use real butter

Well I am a bleeping idiot. I spent so much time fussing over the making of this cake that I didn’t read the last bit through and now I’m waiting for the glaze to crystallize the way it was supposed to. I guess you will find out by the end of the post if it worked out or not!

lemon and orange zest

While flipping through some of my old cookbooks, I was struck by the recipes that appeal to me today as opposed to the recipes that appealed to me three years ago. Funny how our tastes and preferences change as we cooks and bakers evolve… perhaps I dare use the word mature? Nah, screw that!

whisking eggs and vanilla

Lately I’ve had orange on the brain. Don’t worry, I will get around to my chocolate bundt cake experiment soon enough, but not until I’m out of the chemo forest (5 more days, technically). So this recipe for Crystal Almond Pound Cake from Flo Braker’s The Simple Art of Perfect Baking struck my fancy because it has orange and lemon in it.

almond paste and sugar

Each effort to bake the cake this week was thwarted. Fatigue, then no oranges, then no almond paste, then medical appointments up the wahzoo… When I finally got around to making it today, I read through the directions and thought they were a tad fussy. I mean, I really love cake recipes that read: mix everything together and dump it in the pan to bake. These instructions were more picky in the way that hints at disaster if you should deviate in the slightest.

stir in the zest

Flo has her reasons for the specific instructions and I followed them exactly while thoughts of dumping everything together all at once tickled the far corners of my brain. I didn’t make any adjustments to the recipe since the first rule of high-altitude baking is to leave the recipe as is just in case it works.

batter in

But it didn’t work. The damn thing cratered because the cake structure was too weak to support itself during the rise. I read on a high-altitude baking forum (after the fact) that I should use all-purpose flour instead of cake flour because the cake flour doesn’t have enough protein for structural support at this elevation. Great. You know, I’ve used cake flour successfully on just about every other recipe I’ve baked with. But that’s okay, because the cake still tasted fantastic.

glazing the cake

It wasn’t okay though, because in my impatience, I hurriedly glazed my “tunnel of nothing” cake and then sent Jeremy to the neighbors’ house with half of it. I overlooked the part of the recipe that said to wait 4 hours until the glaze crystallized. Aesthetics… aesthetics… The simple art of perfect baking really hinges on not being an impatient dipshit.

While I was catching up on some of my favorite blogs, I noticed that my dear Helen made mention of hosting Sugar High Friday… and citrus. I have never participated in SHFs, founded by Jennifer, The Domestic Goddess. These days, I can barely keep up with the Daring Bakers as it is. Imagine my dumb luck to have baked a citrusy, sweet something the day before the SHF citrus deadline. So this is my SHF submission and after waiting 4 hours, I see the cake looks the same as it did (more or less) 4 hours ago. Okay, whatever… It tastes Damn Good with a moist and dense crumb that mingles almond and citrus in a deceptively light flavor. I say deceptive because it contains a half pound of butter.

slice of sunshine

Crystal Almond Pound Cake
The Simple Art of Perfect Baking by Flo Braker

3/4 cup (75 g) sifted cake flour (use all-purpose flour at high elevation)
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/8 tsp salt
1 lemon, zest of
1 orange, zest of
5 large eggs, room temperature
1 tsp vanilla
7 oz (3/4 cup) almond paste, room temperature
1 cup (200 g) granulated sugar
8 oz (2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature

citrus glaze
3 tbsp lemon juice
3 tbsp orange juice
3/4 cup (150 g) granulated sugar

Position rack in lower third of oven; preheat to 350°F. Grease the bottom and sides of a 8.5 inch tube pan or other 7- to 8-cup decorative baking pan with solid shortening. Dust generously with all-purpose flour, tilt to coat evenly and tap out the excess.

Pour the flour, baking powder, and salt in that order into a triple sifter. Sift onto a sheet of waxed paper to distribute the ingredients evenly; set aside. Grate lemon and orange rinds for the zests; set aside. Crack eggs into a small bowl and add the vanilla. Whisk together briefly just to combine yolks and whites. Place the almond paste in the bowl of a heavy-duty mixer.

With the paddle attachment on low speed (#2), break up the almond past for about 30 seconds. Maintaining the same speed, slowly add the 1 cup of sugar in a steady stream and beat until incorporated (if you add the sugar too quickly, the almond paste jumps out of the mixing bowl). Continue on low speed while adding the butter one tablespoon at a time, taking about 1 minute. Stop the machine after all of the butter has been added, and scrape the sides of the bowl. Increase speed to medium and cream until the mixture is lighter in color and fluffy in appearance (about 3 to 4 minutes).

With mixer still on medium speed, pour the egg mixture in a little at a time (tablespoon by tablespoon). Don’t add more egg until the previous addition has been incorporated into the batter. If the batter gets too watery or shiny, increase the speed until it is smooth and silky, then return to medium speed and resume adding egg mixture. Continue mixing, stopping to scrape the sides of the bowl at least once. When batter is fluffy, velvety, and white (mine was always beige), and has increased in volume (after about 2-3 minutes), detach the beater from the bowl.

Use a rubber spatula to stir in the zests. Stir in half of the flour mixture until incorporated. Then stir in the other half, mixing until smooth. Pour the batter into the pan and bake for 45-50 minutes or until the sides begin to contract from the sides of the pan, the cake springs back when lightly touched and a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean. Place the cake on a rack to cool for 5 to 7 minutes. Mix the glaze ingredients together in a small bowl. Turn the cake out of the pan onto a cooling rack (take care that it isn’t stuck - loosen with a metal spatula if necessary) positioned over a baking sheet to catch drips. Brush the entire surface of the cake with all of the glaze. Let the cake sit for at least 4 hours or until the glaze has set like a sheet of crystals (oops, I didn’t do this) before moving it from the cooling rack to a plate. Serve at room temperature.

What does the passage of a year mean? We read so much into the Earth’s completion of her tiny path around the Sun. A way to mark Time because it doesn’t stop for anyone. I never stopped to think much about how we recognize these temporal ticks and why. Not much until my sister died - out of the blue, just like that. No time for good-byes, I-love-yous, what-do-you-want-us-to-dos. That sick and empty feeling sucking the breath out of me every time I came up for air. Stepping out into the night thinking she’d emerge from the darkness and tell me it was a mistake. A terrible mistake, please. Numb mind. Racing heart, aching heart… broken heart.

Not 24 hours earlier, a blanket for Ben? Sure, I could knit one for him. He may tell you his favorite color is pink, but it’s really green - you know, four-year olds. So glad she loved the blanket I knit for Emily. Only 10 days and already full of piss and vinegar, just like me, just like her mom. Love you. Love you too. Our last words to one another.

Just like that.

kris and me

Rummaging through old letters, old photos, I begged with my self from the past. Please, didn’t you take more? Didn’t you write more? Where are they… Why didn’t you save those thousands of emails? Because I always thought she’d be there. She told me it would always be us. I was grasping desperately to hold on to what was left, even though I knew I had what was most important already - in my head, in my heart. I would bring only what I could carry.

Four times around the Sun - I’ve gone in circles. May 1. That pain is still there if I want it, but I leave it be. I hold on to what keeps me going and what made her so dear to me: my best friend, my only sister. Laughter, snarky remarks, hugs, kisses, tears, practical jokes, heart-to-heart talks, phone calls, emails, visits, surprises, gifts, inside jokes, hopes and fears, plans for the future. Don’t mourn. Celebrate.

organic, ripe strawberries

Cooking is big in my family, yet somehow it skipped Kris. Surprisingly, her petite size 0 (yeah, you read that right) body could put away a lot of food - and good food at that. Whenever I visited Kris, I would cook for her and she would treat me to things we both loved to eat. I think she would have enjoyed these strawberries. I know she would have.

drying

For me, the most important part of the recipe is getting your hands on ripe strawberries, and you can only do that in season. I find that organic is far sweeter and more fragrant than conventional and this time they happened to cost the same. I gently wash the berries and then blot them and set them to dry completely. That’s pretty easy to do where I live as the humidity was somewhere around 50%.

64% Valrhona

If your berries are sweet, then a good bittersweet chocolate will play on that sweetness nicely. The Valrhona I used was just sweet enough. I think overly sweet chocolate kills the strawberry. I don’t bother tempering the chocolate when dipping strawberries because there are too many factors that don’t make it worth it for me.

dipping

I let the strawberries set up on their tops after dipping, because I dislike the foot you get when you set them on their sides to dry. This is probably one of the more aggravating steps - trying to balance the berries on their tops while wet with chocolate. They tend to tumble about and run into one another and smear chocolate everywhere. Maddening, I tell you.

steady…

Once the chocolate has set up in a cool room, I either dip in a different chocolate or do something lazy like drizzle white chocolate. I personally dislike white chocolate, but I find that a little bit adds a hint of sweetness to the shell of bittersweet on the strawberry.

adding visual and flavor contrast

Jeremy tells me the strawberries are perfection. I did take a nibble, despite knowing I wouldn’t be able to taste the full range of flavors because of the chemo. It’s like playing piano with mittens on your hands. However, the berries smelled right and I knew what the chocolate tasted like when I was healthy… Beethoven composed even when he was deaf. Of course, he was a genius and I’m just a tool ;)

to celebrate

Chocolate-Dipped Strawberries

24 ripe strawberries (I prefer organic)
8 oz bittersweet chocolate, chopped (used Valrhona 64%)
1 oz white chocolate, chopped

Rinse strawberries and gently pat dry. Set on a rack to dry completely. Melt bittersweet chocolate in a double boiler. Dip strawberries in chocolate and shake off excess. Set to dry on a rack (on the tops as shown in the photos) or on parchment (on the bottoms which will give you a foot of chocolate) in a cool, dry location. When chocolate has dried, melt the white chocolate and drizzle over the strawberries. Or, you can melt more white chocolate and dip the strawberries a second time.

lemon petits fours glacés

The last time I participated in a cancer-related food blogging event was for the Boobie Bake Off. I hate the color pink. I really do. All of my life I have fought the girly-girl look and pink was pretty central to being a girly-girl in my mind. But I could overlook that aversion for a good cause. What a hoot when a month after the Boobie Bake Off, I was diagnosed with… you guessed it - Boobie Cancer aka breast cancer at age 36. WTF, right?

W.T.F., indeed.

The news was more of a shock for others than for myself. Some folks reacted as if I had died while others assured me that I’d get through this, no problem. Still others said nothing and some said too much. The two best things I was told: “Love you. Anything you need,” [Sam(antha)] and “We’ll do this together,” [Jeremy].

slicing the sheet of lemon chiffon cake

As my regular readers know, I am undergoing my chemo treatment now. My oncologist is a very sweet man who reminds me of Captain Kangaroo. He poisons me every three weeks - he even got me on Valentine’s Day. But he tells me that I’m going to be okay. I would like to believe him.

I don’t blame anyone. I don’t pity myself. I don’t want pity. Cancer blows, but I know there can be worse in life (um, my PhD comes to mind). Reading this blog, it looks like I’ve been a total ski whore during my chemo, but I fight hard for my good days. I put my carcass on the treadmill, the bike, the rower and work my ass off as soon as I can walk again after each chemo even though it hurts in ways I never knew I could hurt. I work to take back my body, keep my mind sane, and maintain a positive attitude. I bounce back and feel great and then I get hit again and it gets harder each time. I don’t drag you guys through my personal hell because… it’s mine and it’s personal and you might stop reading :)

layering buttercream then lemon curd

The first time I met with my surgeon to have the lump biopsied, he was sure it was some sort of cyst. I asked if I could sign up for a women’s telemark ski program. He said to go ahead and do it. When he called me a week later to tell me the results were cancer, my mind wandered to the ski program. I’d have to withdraw. But eventually I decided not to. I decided I needed that program as long as I could physically participate. With the cooperation of my surgeon and anesthesiologist and oncologist, I missed only one out of six classes. One morning, while waiting for my advanced group to show up at the lifts, I was chatting with some of the ladies in the intermediate group. Someone, we’ll call her Leslie, learned I had breast cancer and she said, “I have lumps in my breasts.” Another woman chimed in, “I have lumpy breasts too.” Leslie corrected, “No, I have lumps in my breasts.” Turns out she’s had these for years and she was too afraid to see a doctor because… because she didn’t want to know. I wanted to cry. I wanted to take her by the hand and drive her to my surgeon and have him take care of her the way he took care of me. At the same time, I couldn’t whole-heartedly recommend chemo (freaking chemo…) - couldn’t tell her it’s great and she’ll be fine and it’ll be worth it. I encouraged her to see a physician, to please see someone about the lumps. Please. I don’t know if my words had any impact, but she thanked me before she got on the lift and I never ran into her again.

brushing limoncello simple syrup

If I make it through my treatments, will I call myself a cancer survivor?

No. I’ll not don the cancer survivor label because I don’t believe in letting cancer define me as an individual. I know a lot of folks who were diagnosed with cancer said it changed their lives. I don’t doubt that it did. Cancer has royally inconvenienced me, but I have been through tragedy boot camp before. I suppose that prepared me to deal with cancer better than I would have otherwise. So instead of calling myself a cancer survivor, I think I will say that I kicked cancer’s ass. I accept that cancer could come back and kick MY ass. One way or another, one of our asses is getting wupped. I’m hoping medicine will get its act together in due time so that I will be the one to serve up the final can of Cream of Whoopass Soup should it come to that.

glazing with poured fondant

A Taste of Yellow is an event hosted by Barbara of Winos and Foodies in support of LiveSTRONG Day which is on May 13 this year. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to participate since the deadline was so close to one of my chemo days, but I managed to pull it off today. I’m not blogging this entry for me…

It took me all day to make these petits fours. While I folded the batter for the chiffon cake, I thought of Leslie. As the lemon curd thickened, I recalled the kind words of support from loved ones. Okay, I swore like a sailor when I glazed the darn things, but these tiny bites are made with hope, thanks, and love. These petits fours are for Leslie, for Jeremy, for friends, family, my doctors and nurses, my readers, for anyone touched by cancer. Live life. Live Strong. The Soup du Jour: Cream of Whoopass Soup.

a small bite with big meaning

Lemon Petits Fours Glacés

1/2 sheet chiffon cake
2 cups lemon swiss meringue buttercream
1 cup lemon curd
1 cup limoncello simple syrup
poured fondant icing
blackberries and lemon zest for garnish

chiffon cake
makes 2 11×17 sheets or 2 9×3 rounds (you need only 1/2 of one sheet)
this recipe originally intended for baking at 5300 ft.

14.5 oz cake flour
8.75 oz confectioner’s sugar
6.75 oz whole milk
6 oz canola oil
3.25 oz eggs
0.5 oz baking powder (omitted at 8500 ft.)
13 oz egg whites
9.5 oz granulated sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
3-4 oz lemon juice

Oven 375F. Prep pan by buttering bottom and sides. Place parchment in pan and butter the parchment. Sift dry ingredients (except granulated sugar) into a large bowl. Mix all ingredients (except the 13 oz of egg whites and granulated sugar) in the large bowl until combined. Whip whites and granulated sugar to medium peaks. Fold into batter gently. Bake until set, about 20-25 minutes. Remove from oven and remove from pan. Let cool on a rack. Cut one sheet in half. Wrap the other half and the other full sheet for other use. With a large serrated knife, cut the cake into two layers.

lemon swiss meringue buttercream
makes about 2 cups

4 oz egg whites
8 oz sugar
1/2 lb butter, room temperature
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
3 oz lemon juice

Combine egg whites and sugar in a Kitchenaid mixing bowl. Whisk constantly over a bain marie until 140F is reached. Place on mixer with whisk and whip until stiff. Turn down whip speed to 3rd and whip until cool to the touch (this takes a while - should be cooler than your hand). Change to a paddle and gradually add soft butter by tablespoon pieces. Mix to emulsify. Once desired consistency has been reached, add vanilla and lemon juice.

lemon curd
makes 3.5 cups

6 oz fresh lemon juice, strained
9 oz sugar
3 oz butter
3 oz heavy cream
6 eggs
1 tbsp fine lemon zest
pinch of salt

Boil lemon juice, sugar, butter, salt, and heavy cream in a saucepan. Place eggs in a bowl and whisk to loosen up the whites and yolks. Temper hot lemon mixture into eggs. Add mixture back into saucepan and bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring constantly until thickened and nappé consistency. It should be quite thick or else it will be too runny in the final product. Strain, add zest, and stir. Place plastic wrap directly on curd and cool over an ice bath. Refrigerate when chilled. Can be frozen for up to 4-6 months.

limoncello simple syrup

4 oz sugar
4 oz water
2 oz limoncello

Heat water and sugar in a pot until sugar is dissolved. Bring to boil and turn off heat. Let cool. Mix in limoncello.

poured fondant icing

4.5 cups confectioner’s sugar
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup light corn syrup
1/2 tsp vanilla
1/2 tsp lemon extract
drop of yellow food coloring (optional)

Combine all in double boiler except coloring. Heat until lukewarm. Remove from heat and stir in food coloring. Ladle over petits fours.

assembly
Set first cake layer on a sheet of wax paper on a cutting board. Use a pastry brush to apply the limoncello simple syrup to the layer. Spread a layer of buttercream frosting, then carefully spread a layer of lemon curd on top. Set the second layer of cake on top and brush with more simple syrup. Using a ruler and a good sharp serrated knife, cut the cake into 1×1 inch squares. Place the squares on a rack over a pan or wax paper (to catch the drips) with enough space between each square for glazing. Take warm glaze and pour over the squares. Garnish and serve.