Apricot Cake

Dear Devon,

Summer, is perhaps my favorite season, not because of its relaxed balmy nights or the promise of vacations, but because of the sweet, ripe fruits. Every summer, I look forward to filling my fridge with apricots, peaches, watermelons, pears, and strawberries. Unfortunately, the fruits of recent summers resemble only in name and shape the fabulous fruits of years past. I can’t tell you the number of times that I have been disappointed by hard peaches, mealy pears, and green apricots. It always broke my heart to walk past those perfect looking but tasteless summer fruits. And, I am sure it’s going to be harder once I return from Barcelona. The fruit here is how I remember fruit from my childhood to taste, feel, and smell.

Juicy, sweet, and gently blushed, apricots are again my favorite summer fruit. Apricots come in two sizes, big and small. It is not the most sophisticated of classification systems, but it’s the best that I can get out of my fruit vendor. I’m partial to the smaller ones, which have a more intense honey-like flavor and are a bit more delicate. Alas, the season is already over for these gems; I will have to make it through with their larger counterparts.

The apricots are so tasty that I debated whether to bake with them. In the end, the temptation to experiment was too strong. I pieced together two of Dorie Greenspan’s recipes and invented an olive oil based cake flavored with lemon infused sugars and a splash of hazelnut oil. The cake turned out nicely, but it also turned me out of the apartment. Barcelona has been experiencing a mild summer, but August brought an inescapable wave of humidity, blinding sun, and scorching heat. (Every tourist wears a sunburn like a badge of honor. I am hidden under dark sunglasses, hat, and an impenetrable layer of spf 75 sunscreen). My tiny apartment is a death trap, especially with the oven on. But when perfectly ripe, juicy, fat apricots are in season, I can set aside temporary discomfort for a delicious slice of cake (or so I thought).


Apricot Cake
(makes one 9 inch round cake)

1 pound apricots, halved
¼ cup white sugar
2 lengths of lemon peel
½ cup brown sugar
9 tbsp olive oil
2 eggs
1 tsp hazelnut oil
1 ½ cup flour
½ cup cornmeal
½ tsp baking soda
½ tsp salt
½ cup milk

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Butter a springform pan and set aside until ready to use.

Pick over and wash apricots, cleaning off any dirt and removing any bruised portions. Using a sharp knife, halve apricots and remove the stone. Continue until all the apricots are halved and pitted. Set aside until ready to use.

Put white sugar and lemon peel in a large mixing bowl. Using your fingertips, crush the lemon peel into the sugar, infusing the white sugar with the fragrant citrus oils. Discard peel and add brown sugar. Add olive oil and mix until a thick soupy consistency. Beat in one egg at a time, followed by hazelnut oil.

In a large mixing bowl, combine flour, cornmeal, baking soda, and salt. Measure out milk. Alternating between flour mixture and milk, add to the sugar-oil batter, beginning and ending with flour.

Pour batter into prepared cake form. Nestle halved apricots into the batter, creating a roughly circular pattern.

Bake in the oven 55 to 65 minutes, until golden brown and fragrant. The cake test works well. Allow to cool on a wire rack before serving.

It is best eaten the day it is made, but will keep well in an airtight container for 2 days after baking.

Quiche Lorraine

Dear Devon,

Farm fresh eggs. A friend gave me a present of four eggs, real farm eggs from her grandmother’s chicken coop in a small Catalan mountain village. I’ve tried to explain the difference between American and Catalan eggs for my friends from Barcelona. I am still surprised by their natural creaminess and neon orange color. That’s when the egg-collecting grandmother entered the discussion. Her small flock of chickens lays eggs for her city living granddaughter.


In the interest of continuing my education, several eggs were carefully packed in newspaper and given to me. That’s the thing about the people here; they are exceedingly generous. If you show the slightest interest in anything, it will be insistently pressed into your hand. Refusal is not an option.


To enjoy this gift to the maximum, I dusted off the tart form and settled on Anne Willan’s decadent Quiche Lorraine recipe. Eggs, crème fraiche and lardons are the major players in this over-the-top quiche. It’s the perfect mix of creamy eggs and smoky freshly fried bacon enclosed in a flaky and buttery crust. It comes out of the oven puffed and steaming hot. Willan suggests eating it straight from the oven for maximum flavor, which we did, but we also enjoyed cold slices for breakfast the next day and the next.


Quiche Lorraine
(from Willan, Anne. The Country Cooking of France p. 46)

Pate Brisée
1 2/3 cups flour
1 egg yolk
¾ tsp salt
3 tbsp water
6 tbsp butter

Filling
1 tbsp butter
7 oz lean smoked bacon, cut into lardons
2 eggs
1 cup crème fraiche

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

In a food processor, combine cubed, chilled butter with flour and salt. Pulse until small peas form. Add egg yolk and pulse, three or four times. Add water, tablespoon by tablespoon, pulsing the machine until the dough just comes together. The amount of water used depends on the humidity of your kitchen. You may not need to use all the water. When a rough dough forms, turn out the dough and lightly knead on a floured surface. Form into a ball and rest in a lightly oiled bowl. Cool in the fridge 15 to 30 minutes.

Roll the chilled dough to ¼ inch thick on a lightly floured surface. Line tart pan with dough. Using the tines of a fork, prick the dough all over and fill with pie weights. Bake the shell until light golden color, roughly 20 minutes. Remove from the oven and cool on a cooling rack.

For the filling, cook lardons until lightly browned and crisped. Remove from the pan using a draining spoon and cool on a plate lined with super absorbent paper towels. In a bowl, whisk together eggs and crème fraiche. Line the cooled pie shell with lardons and pour in the egg mixture. Bake until the filling is set and golden brown, 30 to 35 minutes.

Blood Orange Olive Oil Cake

Dear Devon,

Last year on Valentine’s Day, slightly blue scones— made with blood oranges— appeared on your kitchen table. I thought I’d pick up where you left off. This morning, I threw together a blood orange and olive oil cake. Blood oranges are in season. And the fiery skinned fruits are all over the market stands.

These oranges were bursting with juice and color. The smell was completely intoxicating. I felt a bit wasteful using the juice to flavor my cake. It seemed much more appropriate to drink the sweet and slightly acidic juice. I called the still groggy eyed boy into the kitchen to share in the sweet flowery smell of freshly squeezed juice.

I have tried to keep kitchen equipment and utensils to the bare minimum. Not an easy task, given my love of smooth ceramic mixing bowls, enamel coated Dutch ovens, and silicon molds. I am now forced to be a bit more resourceful. This is how I ended up using my terracotta cazuela as a baking dish.

A traditional cooking vessel, the cazuela is used for just about everything: roasting, boiling water, stewing…the list continues. Baking a cake seemed a natural extension. The thick clay walls would act almost like an oven within the oven, insulating the cake nicely and providing even heat. I suspected that these same properties would result in a beautiful crunchy crust. (I was not disappointed).

In general, it is good practice to measure the capacity of the baking vessel before filling it with batter. I only wish I had thought to measure the capacity of my mixing bowl too! Half way through the recipe, I realized that it was not possible to mix the liquids and the flour in my medium sized bowl. A bit frantic, I had to press my aluminum pot into service.


Mixing the blood orange juice into the batter, I issued a silent prayer that my cake would not turn out that light blue color of your scones. I reread your post before starting for some advice. To try to avoid the blue effect, I mixed in tangy yogurt instead of lowfat milk. I hoped the acid from the yogurt would help balance the pH of the batter.

As I poured my gooey batter into my lightly oiled cazuela, I admitted my doubts aloud. My remarks were answered with an eager request to lick the sides of “mixing bowl.” The largest spoon in the house was plopped into the mixing bowl and handed over.

The cake emerged from the oven golden on top with a wonderful crusty edge. It was moist and light with the subtle orange flavoring. The cazuela baked the cake evenly and a bit surprisingly, released the cake easily and in one piece. I cut two generous slices and served the cake with a cup of strong dark coffee. My slice wasn’t quite generous enough and as I rose to cut myself another piece, a bright voice asked for a second slice even though there was still half a slice remaining on the plate!


Blood Orange Olive Oil Cake
Makes one 10 inch round cake or one 12-cup bundt cake

2 ¼ cup flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 cup sugar
2 tbsp blood orange zest and lemon zest
2/3 cup blood orange juice (roughly 3 oranges)
3 eggs, beaten
8 oz olive oil
1 cup yogurt

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly oil the baking round. I used a 12-cup capacity baking dish. The recipe is styled for a 12-cup bundt pan or equivalent round cake pan.

In a large mixing bowl, mix together flour, baking soda, and salt.

Zest one blood orange and half a lemon. Juice three blood oranges. In a second mixing bowl, mix citrus zest and sugar. Whisk in three beaten eggs, olive oil, orange juice, and yogurt.

Pour wet ingredients into the flour mixture. The mixture will look a bit curdled but it will be fine. Gently whisk until combined. Transfer batter to the prepared baking dish. Bake for 1 hour to 1 hour 15 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean.

Bake 1 hour to 1 hour 15 minutes.

Note: my baking time may vary from the standard metal baking dishes. Clay cazuelas generally take longer to heat up and probably take a bit longer when baking. I advise checking the cake at the 45-minute mark.

Jelly Donut Muffins

Dear Devon,

Orwasher’s Bakery on East 78th Street between 1st and 2nd Avenues has memorable jelly donuts. They are made daily in small batches and usually sell out by noon. Bigger than a clenched fish, the donut is rich and dense, capped with an even layer of powdered sugar, and filled with a thick red jelly. These are probably the best jelly donuts I have ever eaten.

I used to live around the corner from Orwasher’s. On Sundays, I often intended to rise before noon to capture one of these coveted confections. I was disappointed many times -- evidently I wasn’t the only person enjoying them. About a year ago, I decided to settle my craving for jelly donuts and crossed the Park before noon on a Sunday. To my surprise, the bakery is under new management. Though they kept the Orwasher’s name, the secret of the jelly donut disappeared with its previous owner. Quel horreur! With the memory of this jelly donut floating in my thoughts, I attempted to create something that embodied the character of the jelly donut.

What exactly made these donuts so good? Perhaps it was the spongy texture, or the overwhelming density? Maybe the thick, almost opaque jelly, or the generous dusting of powdered sugar? I like to imagine Jewish grandmothers placing them into the sticky hands of their grandchildren before the days of transfat regulation.

Having identified the three most important traits of the donut, I referenced the Joy of Cooking for inspiration and guidance. I combined three recipes 1) the basic muffin recipe 2) “donut” muffins and 3) filled muffins. Basic muffins batter is self-explanatory. “Donut” muffins are muffins dipped in melted butter and tossed in sugar and filled muffins have jelly or cream centers. These three recipes served as my launching pad.

I substituted half and half to get a richer, denser crumb and to create a fattier, creamier morsel. A high quality cherry jelly is essential to the success of any jelly donut. The jelly squeezed into an Orwasher’s donut was more like a custard than jelly -- thick and opaque, deep ruby red, and smooth. I loved taking that first excited bite and tasting the sweet jelly that oozed into my mouth. Each consecutive bite became more treacherous as jelly mischievously seeped out of hidden pockets. I opted not to pipe jelly into my muffins. Instead, I filled each muffin cup half way full of batter then dropped in a generous spoonful of jelly before topping with second large dollop of batter. Surprisingly, the jelly doesn’t sink to the bottom, and remains intact throughout the baking process. In place of powdered sugar, I sweeten the muffin tops with a much tidier cinnamon sugar. The spicy fragrance of cinnamon enhances the first bite and contrasts nicely with the sweet cherry jelly. I don’t think Mr. Orwasher will mind.

In the end, I was more excited by the idea of making jelly donut muffins than the result. The muffin tasted fantastic, and looked good. Cinnamon sugar pairs nicely with the simple creamed based muffin and tangy cherry jelly. There were no complaints at my brunch table: I would definitely make them again. I enjoy their whimsical character. But, in the end, I was doomed from the start. Muffins will never be donuts, and I probably shouldn’t have tried to deceive myself. So far, I still haven’t found a substitute for Orwasher’s jelly donuts…


Jelly Donut Muffins
Makes 12

2 cups flour (1 cup all purpose, 1 cup cake flour)
1 tbsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
2 eggs
1 cup half and half
6 tbsp vegetable oil
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 cup cherry jam (more as needed)

1/4 cup sugar
1/4 tsp cinnamon
3 tbsp melted butter

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Butter a 12 tin muffin tin. To maintain the illusion of a donut, I do not line the muffin cups with paper liners. I like the rough texture of the muffin bottom. Set aside buttered tin.

Whisk flours, baking powder, and salt together in a large bowl. In a separate bowl, whisk together thoroughly half and half, eggs, vegetable oil, and vanilla extract. Add egg mixture to flour and stir until just combined. Be careful not to overmix.

Fill each muffin cup roughly 2/3 full. Top with a small spoonful of jelly, roughly 1/2 tsp each, centered in each muffin cup. Cover each muffin with a generous spoonful of the remaining batter.

Bake for 17-20 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool on a drying rack before removing from the muffin tin.

Combine sugar and cinnamon. In the bowl of a double boiler, melt butter. Brush muffin tops with melted butter. Dip muffin top into prepared bowl of cinnamon sugar. If you are feeling extra decadent, double the recipe for cinnamon sugar and toss the entire muffin in this sweet, spicy mix.

Eggs En Cocotte

Dear Devon,

There is little to complain about and much to celebrate in Barcelona. That being said, adjusting to life here has its challenges. Aside from the obvious language barrier, which will soon be conquered, my biggest annoyance is the plumbing. Europeans built incredible, soaring cathedrals in the 12th century- how can the logic of the bathroom escape them? It seems that every bathroom should come equipped not only with a toilet, sink, and shower, but also with a mop. The flimsy plastic curtain doesn't quite reach the lip of the shower floor, which pretty much guarantees that water will splash everywhere. After three nights, I solved the mystery of how to shower without flooding the entire bathroom. Long American-style showers are not an option in our narrow, coffin-like ducha. I won't even get into the funky smells. After all, this is a food blog.

We have already had a slight laundry mishap. I don't blame our small, but adequate, washing machine. It was a case of operator error. Unfortunately, what began life as faintly rose colored t-shirt has blossomed into a still desirable, if unintentional, purple one. I'm not sure which was the culprit: The dark blue shirt, the detergent, or the water temperature (a scorching 40 degrees C or 104 degrees F for the unschooled). The difference between 40 degrees C and 40 degrees F is pink to purple.


The apartment is equipped with a washing machine, but no dryer. Using a clothesline four floors up in a narrow light shaft is a tricky operation. As of now, no articles of clothing have been lost to the neighbors' cantilevered radiator hood... but I'll let you know if my favorite shirt ends up there.

Your big question for me is: How is the food? My reply: I don't really know yet. So far, I can only tell you about the markets. Covered markets dot the landscape of Barcelona. In three days, I've been to four, two of them twice. Dining out is always nice, but what's the need when the markets are stocked with amazing produce? I bought fresh eggs from a lady who only sells eggs. I made an easy scramble with pasta, beans, and tomatoes, and fried them for ham sandwiches. These are eggs like I've never tasted before. The yolks are practically orange, when cooked they have the richness of butter and an almost cream-like consistency. I already regret when American eggs will once again be the norm.

Before leaving New York, I became obsessed with baked eggs. I first tried out this recipe for an intimate brunch hosted on our roof deck. I loved them so much that I made it three more times that week. The elegance of the dish obscures the relaxed ease of the recipe. All you have to do is crack an egg into a ceramic ramekin filled with a splash of hot cream and top it with cheese and dill. It's hard to imagine how something so simple can taste so incredible. The egg white firms up in the oven, while the yolk remains gooey and buttery. Dill and eggs are a natural combination, and when mixed with freshly grated Fontina cheese, they bring out its grassy undertones. Puncture the bright yellow yolk with a large shard of buttered grilled toast for maximum enjoyment.

Spanish eggs will pump up this already amazing dish another notch. I'm dying to try it out. But first, I have to find an apartment with an oven.

Eggs en Cocotte
(serves 2)

2 eggs
2 tsp cream
1 tsp butter
1 tsp dill
1 tbsp shredded fontina cheese
2 wedges of tomato

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Arrange two ramekins on a baking sheet. Add 1 tsp of cream and 1/2 tsp of butter to each ramekin. Bake in the oven on the top shelf until cream-butter mixture is bubbly, about 5 minutes.

While the ramekins are in the oven, prepare your ingredients. Cut one tomato in 1/8's, finely chop dill, and shred fontina cheese. Remove the baking tray with bubbling hot cream-butter mixture from the oven. Crack one egg into each ramekin. The egg should start sizzling as it hits the hot cream. Place one tomato wedge into each dish. Be careful not to hit the yolk. Sprinkle with a small pinch of salt. Top each dish with 1/2 tsp of dill and 1/2 tbsp of shredded cheese. Pop in the oven and cook until the whites have set: 5-7 minutes for a runny yolk, 10 -12 minutes for a hard yolk.

Serve with large shards of buttered toast.

P.S. These photos were taken pre-Barcelona. As of now, nothing extraordinary has emerged from my kitchen here.