Blueberry Pie

Every bad situation is a blues song waiting to happen.
~ Amy Winehouse

Soon I'd turn 30; my hair was long and smooth like silk, I had white skin and the deep, black voice of soul. At my side I had talent, youth, a bit of money and success: an ironic cocktail that would not grant me happiness; that thing called life, thrown in my hands by chance, I felt it on me as hard and heavy as a stone. To the public I was singing of love, betrayal and jealousy, but inside I was chasing a single dream of peace; and I was drowning, swept adrift by my own thoughts, choked with anguish, shame and misery of life; to remain afloat, I sought comfort in chemical clouds and emptied bottles of vodka, starting from scratch every day to defy my will and play poker with my brain.
I sensed myself that I, too, would join that cursed club of the 27's of rock: Jimi and Janis, Kurt and now me; young, angry angels, coward murderers of dreams, united by the invisible thread of our silly illusions, an irrational boredom of life that grew together with success, victims of a dark soul that asked our body for revenge. From life I could have had it all: an almost kind god had given me feline eyes and lips of a star, whispering in my ear the sweet secrets of blues; but in return I paid him with the confusion of being, a solitude without horizon, and that twisted, fragile anger.



Yet, life, I had really loved it, when, as a kid, I used to run down the street chasing my feet and the smell in the air; when Gramma used to talk about Frank, and on Sunday for lunch we'd go to Brook's, Alex and I sharing a slice of blueberry pie, my little corner of paradise not yet washed down by alcohol; and the first guitar, what a dream!, at 13 it was a fairy tale with no poison. In my life I wanted to be a woman, a wife and then a mother, I wanted to stay forever at his side, me and Blake strolling serene on any given day.
I had learned to offer emotions to people, but I couldn't look my father and mother in the eyes anymore; the darkness rising from inside devoured me every day more, leaving room only to fears and goblins of glass. To my father and mother I now ask for forgiveness, for having seen me wasted, for having found me disturbed, intoxicated with suffering, for having to bear the blame forever.
Inside me I had no labels: I was not a star, I was not a singer, a rebel, an angel or a rejection, I was neither a junkie nor an alcoholic. Inside me I was just a woman, curled up in my agony and passed away too quickly. I was just one among many. But me, the words that I wrote and sang to the clouds will forever save my face.

Amy Winehouse
9/14/1983 - 7/23/2011


Blueberry Pie*
for a round pie dish of 9" diameter

For the dough
flour 315 gr
cold butter 225 gr
sugar 1 teaspoon
salt 1 teaspoon
cold water 120-180 ml

For the filling
fresh blueberries 1 kg
lemon 1
sugar 125 gr
corn starch 35 gr
egg 1
butter as needed

*I adapted the recipe from her, the unbeatable, extra blonde, Martha Stewart. In particular, I'd like to recommend everyone the recipe of her pie crust: it's flaky as hell.
Please excuse me and M.S. if we aren't veg today.

For the dough, mix flour, sugar and salt. Add butter, cut in pieces and very cold, and work quickly with a spatula until you get big crumbs. Add cold water gradually and knead until you get a smooth ball and not too sticky. In order to get a flaky crust, there must remain visible pieces of butter in the dough: which is why you shouldn't work it very long nor warm it up too much.
Divide the dough in half, wrap each piece in plastic wrap and let stand in refrigerator at least 2 hours.



Meanwhile, rinse blueberries and mix them with the grated lemon zest, one tablespoon of lemon juice, sugar and cornstarch. Crush about 1/4 of the filling with your hands or with a fork and set aside.
Dust the work surface and the rolling pin with plenty of flour, roll out the dough into two discs and place one of them into a deep pie pan, leaving a border of about 1/2 inch. Fill the base with blueberries, piling them a little more in the middle, sprinkle a few flakes of butter on top, and then cover with the second disc of dough. Seal the edge crushing it slightly with your hands, etch the surface with 5 or 6 concentric cuts, brush with the egg, beaten, and keep in the fridge at least half an hour before baking.
Bake at 380 for 20 minutes, lower the oven to 350 and continue baking for another 40 minutes, until the surface of the pie is golden. Serve warm.

Vegan Apple Cake with Corn Flour

What's left to say about apple pie? Does it make sense to talk about it one more time, and pull out yet another version, different and always the same, when we've already used pages over pages of the blogosphere in its honor, and we've already emptied wagons full of cyber-praises in perpetual memory of it? After years of glorious dipping, do we really need to remind ourselves that not only it still exists, the stoic and fragrant Countess of the five o'clock tea, the soft Queen of breakfast latte, but it also wins the challenge against the sophistry of modern snacks thanks to its moving and unwavering simplicity?
The answer - I think - is all here, in the sincere and soft scent that has inundated my closet kitchen, while I was desperately trying to find a reason and make sense of this post.
So I realize that apple cake needs no justification, whether you like it or not it's like a scrapbook, always nice to browse and always ready to welcome an extra page. Each one has its own, with their personal stories, their grandmother and their summer afternoons; but when you look at the group photos with all the classmates, the snapshots taken at six year old, or the portraits of tanned and light faces under the August sky, as if by magic, in those looks, poses and smiles you'll find the same questions full of certainties, one big illusion flashing in those unsuspecting eyes.
Apple cake speaks a universal language, be it vegan, à la mode or American pie, with its vintage postcard's look and its cozy and pleasant scent; it gathers geographies and generations inside the same ampoule of peace, it surrounds the heart and the mind with the same warm and sincere illusion.
There will never be an end to apple cakes; as thoughts full of sense and mutually enriching, they are coming one after the other eternally separated by a semicolon. After an apple cake you can't put a period, let alone start a new paragraph; apple cake is like spring that returns always new to warm your guts, even if you leave an empty line in the middle.
And so this end of April of mine, without apology and without a reason, is just another apple cake with a semicolon at the end, different but luckily a little bit the same as before, and it adds to the list, to the end of the thought that goes on, it's another page no longer empty in the universal album of memories.




Vegan Apple Cake
with Corn Flour and Olive Oil
for a round cake pan of 9" diameter

type 0 flour 250 gr
fine ground corn flour 180 gr
corn starch 70 gr
sugar 200 gr
salt 1 pinch
soy yogurt 300 gr
olive oil 170 gr
lemon 1
baking powder 16 gr (1 small satchel)
raisins 80 gr
rice milk (or soy, or oat) approx. 1/2 glass
apple 1
cane sugar, cinnamon, powdered sugar to taste

Soak raisins in milk for a few minutes, drain and set aside. Beat yogurt with sugar, a pinch of salt and the lemon zest until there are no more lumps. Combine and sift together flours, baking powder, and cornstarch, and gradually stir them in, alternating the addition of olive oil and enough milk so that the dough gets soft but firm enough to drop heavily from the spoon. Add the raisins and mix. Peel the apple, cut it into thin slices and sprinkle them with lemon juice. Pour the batter into the baking pan, previously greased and dusted with flour, arrange the apple slices on top, and sprinkle lightly with brown sugar mixed with a little cinnamon.
Bake at 360 for about an hour, or until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean. Allow the cake to cool off, then dust the surface with powdered sugar

Vegan Coconut-Lemon Bundt Cake

Words!!!!
WORDS, omg! (mayisayit??), I love them. I bow to the words. I admire them, I dream, I listen to them. I pay respects. Words tease me and fascinate me, I honor them, they light me up, they seduce me and bang me against the wall.
Whispered in the ear on a summer night, eternal and liars like bubbles of soap; shouted to the wind, the rain and the rainbows of the world, full of anger, hope and future; words read and absorbed through the pages of others, intoxicating like opium, fierce and suffocating like a tightening noose; those created, distorted, manipulated; old-fashioned words and modern ones; those twittered, facebooked, painted or sprayed on a wall; those written in the toilets of some bars, printed onto my sick mind, signed by hand inside a greeting card, sent via regular mail or coming from the sky; the yellow and red words of a sign on the street, those sung and cried about, words swallowed by time or forgotten for years under a pillow; those chewed and then spit against me, dreamt under the August stars, wrapped in alcohol, smoke and fog, moved by a kiss or a stroke on the neck; words tattooed on the skin as a final, theathrical gesture; those pronounced in front of an altar, the ones that were deleted, re-written, put in a note or lost. Words of movies, songs, and advertising. Those carved in the stone and forever, or recorded for just one hour, the ones remaining from the memories of that time. Future words, conditional or past ones, the dark words of a foreign language, those roughed out by a growing child; words memorized from a poem or recited as a wicked mantra.
I. Love. Words. I inhale them like benign steam, drink them like a glass of chianti. I get drunk, hit, carried away in a far and distant present. And you knew, you know me well like the back of the hands of our worlds once neighbors. If it weren't for those few words entrusted to modern technology, you and I would be lost forever. You said it yourself, and you knew, what happens to me, when inside that Easter egg, between a bite of cake and an afternoon tea, you gave me this handful of verses:

when was that last time
I saw you and then maybe kissed you
tell me now girl of those days
when and where did you go
why and when did I forget about you.
You thought it would last forever
that absolute and violent love
when was it that the nothing finished
why was it that everything died out
did not see not even September.
~ Francesco Guccini, The Last Time





Vegan Bundt Cake*
with Coconut and Lemon
for 8 mini cakes or one 10-inch bundt pan

sugar 225 gr
all-purpose flour 375 gr
light vegetable oil 100 gr
coconut milk 1 can (400 ml)
soy or rice milk 50 gr
lemon juice 50 gr
grated lemon zest 3 tablespoons
pure vanilla extract 2 teaspoons
baking powder 2 teaspoons
baking soda 1 teaspoon
salt 1 pinch
shredded unsweetened coconut 130 gr
confectioners' sugar for dusting as needed

* Yet another recipe stolen from the sacred text of the Orthodox veganism, that Veganomicon onto which now hangs my fate, only with a bit more of vintageness. And it won't be the last time.

In a large bowl, combine sugar, oil, coconut milk, rice milk, juice and zest of lemons, and vanilla extract. Stir well. In a separate bowl, sift together flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt, and gradually add them to the wet ingredients, mixing well after each addition. Lastly, fold in the dried coconut.
Pour the batter in one 10-inch bundt pan (or 8 smaller pans), previously greased and floured, and bake at 350 for about one hour (45 minutes for the smaller pans), until a knife inserted through the middle comes out clean.
Let the cake rest in its pan for about 10 minutes, then flip it onto a rack and let it cool completely. Sprinkle the surface with confectioners' sugar and serve.
w.v.&v.<3





When was that last time
you heard your mother sing
when at home reading the paper
you saw your father smoke
while you were going back to study
in those days now too far away
all was present and the future
something left for tomorrow
an expectation of dreams and darkness
a something uncertain and insecure.
~ Francesco Guccini, The Last Time

Pistachio Olive Oil Cake

So don't be afraid to let them show
your true colors
true colors are beautiful
like a rainbow
~ Cindy Lauper, True Colors


Vegan cake, round two.
At this point I would almost say it's official, I don't even do it on purpose and I find myself coming out...
Olé! Love me the same amount, because I'm still the same girlinthekitchen with a soul a little vintage and a blog a tiny bit messed up. Don't panic, I don't bite, and I'm not bad. I'm simply differently fed, and yes, maybe even a little dreamy.
With or without tofu, I keep listening to music, arguing with artichokes, and falling in love with Robert De Niro inside a bookstore in New York. With or without tofu, I keep being moved with no shame by some orange marmalade during winter mornings. With or without tofu, I have the same tender heart, I do.
With vegan love, please accept a slice of this soft and fruitylicious cake, and peace.
And if someone wants to ask me why, I just say why not.





Pistachio Olive Oil Cake
for a 9" diameter springform pan

toasted, shelled pistachios 85 gr
soy yogurt, plain 140 gr
extra-virgin olive oil 65 gr
unrefined sugar 150 gr
silken tofu 170 gr
flour 150 gr
baking soda 1/2 teaspoon
baking powder 1/2 teaspoon
salt 1 pinch
vanilla extract 1 teaspoon
For the topping
organic orange 1
organic lemon 1
unrefined sugar 100 gr
water 240 ml
Grand Marnier 60 ml
toasted, shelled pistachios, unsalted 40 gr
pomegranate seeds as needed

Pulse pistachios in a food processor until finely ground, being careful not to overdo it, or else they will release their oil. Set aside. In a large bowl, mix yogurt, tofu, sugar, oil and vanilla, and beat well until smooth and with no lumps. Sift together flour, salt, baking powder and baking soda, and add to the tofu mixture. Mix well, then add ground pistachios and incorporate to the rest.
Pour batter into the springform pan previously greased with oil and lined with parchment paper on the bottom, and bake at 325 for about 30 or 40 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean. Allow the cake to cool on a rack.
Meanwhile, prepare the topping. Wash the orange and the lemon ( moi? Meyer lemon, ça va sans dire... ), cut them in half and then into slices about a 1/4" thick. Remove seeds, and place them in a pot with water, sugar, and liqueur. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, cover and simmer gently for about an hour until the fruit is very tender. Transfer the mixture to a food processor and blend until it becomes thick. Spread it on top of the cooled cake, and finish it off with chopped pistachios and pomegranate seeds.
So delicious and I mean it!



The recipe comes from this new best friend of mine, which I bought in a tenth of a second after seeing it by accident in a window downtown (I see it, I go in, Iwant that, I pay, thank you, I go out).
And if he and I now sleep together, it is also because of this cake, I want you to know that.
w.v.<3

Vegan Guinness Chocolate Cake

He was a wise man who invented beer.
~ Plato


... to say nothing of the one who invented dark chocolate, and sunglasses, the one who gave birth to chamomile tea, summer at the seaside and facebook, that who developed hair gel - even better if it smells like cookies -, flared jeans, fragolino wine and focaccia, and even the one who created Snoopy, the bicycle, the toaster and the sky full of stars.
But we digress. Or maybe not, who knows, I like to think that everything is held together by the same thread, a shaggy cord full of knots, powered by candies, raspberries, and popcorn, that passing by Plato with his pint of beer, and through Calvin & Hobbes, Amélie Poulain and Lucio Battisti, has resisted time, the whims and storms of the mind without ever breaking at all, and has surprisingly led me in front of this cake, super chocolaty, very elegant and total black, to put it as he does.



GUINNESS?? CHOCOLATE?? CAKE?? Have I heard it right? Three of the things that make life worth living, joined together in a soft and spongy hug. Impossible not to be seduced. Impossible not to capitulate.
And therefore, when they virtually suggested me the same warm, tender, and fragrant hug in veganlove version, as a gesture of love towards myself, as a tribute to a dusty 50mm lens and a trunk full of mismatched bowls and crumpled rags, but also as an act of trust for this crazy little blog and this crazy little world, I jumped at the chance without thinking about it too much.
And just like a cochobeersugar boomerang, after adjusting, sanding and repainting it my way, I throw you the same hug full of love and hope, on top of an ideal off-white vintage tray.
Call it what you will, delusions of a romantic foodblogger, sweet paranoia of a mid-autumn night, special effects of one Guinness too many, but if that same thread, passing through some semi-secret door, managed to get to you, I recommend you capitulate with me, grab this boomerang and share a slice, before re-launching it through space as it should be.
Because it was certainly a wise man or woman who invented beer, but even more so the one who dared mixing it with chocolate.
To say nothing of the one who one day tried adding some tofu...
w.v.<3





Vegan Guinness Chocolate Cake
for a 9" diameter springform pan

flour 250 gr
unsweetened cocoa powder 100 gr
sugar 300 gr
baking soda 2 teaspoons
baking powder 1/2 teaspoon
salt 1 pinch
guinness extra stout 450ml
sunflower seed oil 100 gr
vanilla extract 2 teaspoons
silken tofu 125 gr

For the chocolate frosting
semisweet chocolate 170 gr
coconut milk 120 ml

In a large bowl, sift flour, cocoa, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Add sugar, stir and set aside. In another bowl whisk together oil, vanilla extract, beer and tofu (yesyesyes, you've read that right, oil+Guinness+tofu, it sounds like Star Trek disguised as Grandma Duck, but trust me, it'll all work out that way...) until the mixture is smooth and without any lump. Gradually add the flour&cocoa mixture and stir until well blended. Pour batter into a springform pan previously greased with oil, and bake at 350 for about an hour. Let the cake cool on a rack.
Meanwhile, prepare the frosting. Finely chop the chocolate and place it in a bowl. Heat coconut milk over medium-high heat and bring it to a boil, stirring occasionally to prevent it from sticking. Pour boiling milk over the chocolate, so that it completely covers it. Allow to sit for about 5 minutes before mixing it to yield a smooth glaze. Let it cool down for about 30 or 40 minutes until it thickens and becomes spreadable (if it's not thick enough, add one teaspoon of corn starch and stir well). At this point, beat the frosting with an electric mixer so that it incorporates air and feels lighter. Gently spread it on top of the cooled cake and serve.
Cheers!

Lemon Olive-Oil Cake

...I'm back to my world
And we're back to being friends
Wait and see me,
Tonight let's do this thing...
(Dave Matthews Band, Say Goodbye)

Yes I'm back to my world. For one day, for one night, or who knows. Because there's nothing to do, despite the laziness, the hot weather, the cold weather, the tiny kitchen, the empty fridge, despite vacations, work, the ticking of time, the sleepless nights, love that comes and go, removals, birthdays, Christmas and mid-summer holidays, despite the road trips - with an RV or a sidecar -, new boots and vintage shopping, licorice candies, sunglasses, bathing suits and cowboy hats, that happy moment always comes, when you decide to bake yet another cake. And maybe it's one of those simple and reasonable cakes, those who ask nothing but surprise you with their supersoft deliciousness. And they make you think you are inside a slice of peace.
So tonight let's do this thing, and tomorrow... who knows.

Lemon Olive-Oil Cake
for a springform pan of 9" diameter

flour 250 gr
sugar 150 gr
eggs 4
lemons 2
extra virgin olive oil 180 ml
baking powder 7 gr
buttermilk 100 gr
salt a pinch

Grate the zest of the lemons and mix it with flour and baking powder. Whisk the egg yolks with 100 grams of sugar until the mixture is thick and pale, then add juice of one lemon, olive oil and buttermilk, and beat. Gradually add the flour mixture and stir until the batter is combined.
In a separate bowl, whisk the egg whites with a pinch of salt, then add 50 grams of sugar and keep beating until stiff. Gently mix the egg whites into the rest of the batter, folding them in from top to bottom, taking care not to deflate them.
Transfer batter into a springform pan greased with oil and lined with parchment paper at the bottom. Sprinkle the surface with a tablespoon of sugar and bake at 350 for about 45 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean. Let the cake cool off in the pan, then remove the parchment paper and transfer it to a serving plate.

Beet Cake

Falling in love at first sight.
With a stranger met on the street; a pair of shoes seen in the window of a cute retro store; an annoying cat found behind a bush. Or with this thing below, discovered by accident thanks to a friend's recommendation.

beet cake from tiger in a jar on Vimeo.

Now, tell me if this is not the most chocolaty romantic, deliciously intriguing and wonderfully nostalgic video-recipe you have ever seen.
For something like this you can forgive everything. Even beets in the batter.

Beet Cake
for a round cake pan of 9" diameter

red beets, cooked and pureed 2 cups
flour 2 cups
dark brown sugar 1 1/2 cup
semisweet chocolate 4 oz.
butter, room temperature 1 cup
eggs, room temperature 3
baking soda 2 teaspoons
salt 1/4 teaspoon
vanilla 1 teaspoon

Cook beets by boiling them in slightly salted water until tender. Peel them and puree them with a food processor. Allow to cool and set aside. Coarsely chop the chocolate, place it in a small pan and melt it in a double boiler.
In a large bowl, whisk the sugar with the butter, cut into small pieces, until mixture is smooth. Add eggs, one at a time, then beets, warm chocolate and vanilla. Keep beating until the batter gets puffed and fluffy. Add flour, previously mixed with salt and baking soda.
Pour the batter into a greased and floured round baking pan and bake at 375 for about 45 minutes, until your toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean. Let the cake cool off on a wire rack and then dust the surface with confectioners' sugar.

And now, at the end of the story, how did this cake behave, you may ask? I'd say it's been a very interesting experience, with a super soft subject, spongy and moist, a slightly chocolaty flavor and not at all beety (at least for me, but I'm a sucker for beets, so maybe my opinion doesn't count...). It's worth risking the adventure just to enjoy all the preliminaries, and most of all that super romantic pink batter.
Approved!

The Non-Linzer

Excuse me, may I? With your permission, I'm here today to pass on the recipe for a cake that in my house has always been touted for Linzer, but to be honest is not a Linzer. Why, why... well, yes, why?
Because it's not a tart, here, I say it. To my discredit, I admit that this is kind of a short-cut that has little or nothing to do with pastry crust; it's rather a Linzertorte cake, softer than the classic and certainly very little flaky. In addition, if we want to tell the whole story, it's also one that is not offended if you use hazelnuts instead of almonds, it doesn't get cranky if instead of mirtilli rossi* jam (certainly not a genre that's in great demand here in San Francisco and surrounding areas) you use a raspberry one (in this case, I even used a raspberry & plum jam), and it doesn't take it personally if - given the dough's consistency - it's practically impossible to give it stripes that are all perfect and regular.
Subtleties? Semantic sophistry? Culinary quibbles? I don't know. The thing is, despite the obvious shortcomings, it'd really like to be allowed to qualify as Linzer for its taste, of Linzer. Is this something contemplated and permitted?
Waiting for a verdict, and always with your permission, I'd still like to offer it to you, this Linzerwannabe.


Non-Linzer Torte
for a round cake pan of 9" diameter

butter, room temperature 105 gr
neutral flavored oil 105 gr.
eggs 3
sugar 210 gr.
flour 210 gr.
hazelnuts 210 gr.
baking powder about 7 gr. (1/2 package)
salt one pinch
plenty of cinnamon
raspberry, currant or mirtilli rossi* jam as needed

Toast hazelnuts in the oven for about ten minutes, let them cool and then grind them finely in a food processor, adding a few tablespoons of sugar taken from the total amount, to avoid them releasing oil.
Beat butter and oil with remaining sugar until the mixture is creamy; add eggs, one at a time, salt and plenty of cinnamon. In the end, add sifted flour, baking powder and ground hazelnuts. Mix well.
Pour the dough in a greased and floured cake pan, keeping aside about half a cup to use for the covering. Gently spread the jam on top, leaving a border of about 1 inch. With a pastry bag, create the classic pie strips using the leftover dough, leaving some space between each one, as they get a lot wider while baking.
Bake the cake at 350 for about 50 minutes, until the usual toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean. Let it cool down, and if you wish, sprinkle it with powdered sugar before serving.

*Mirtilli rossi are a type of wild berries, red and very tart, popular in Northern Europe. You can't find them here, but they are very close to cranberries.

Almond Cake with Blood Orange and Olive Oil

Well, I mean... it may be Citrus Week in my house, but a small treat fits in as well, definitely. I got the idea reading here (which in turn refers to this article, recently turned into this paper thing - and for those who are curious, no, I didn't buy the book, in fact I haven't even looked at it (oh well, only a peek), because to me, the dining section of The New York Times and its bookish extensions mean exclusively one thing, aka Mark Bittman; but I promise to return on this soon, I hope very soon, given that these days - apart from citrus - I'm hooked on M.B., and I feel compelled to share...), ok, where was I? ah, yes, Citrus Week. Just to make it a little less healthy, I thought I'd sneak in this cake. The suggestion came to me through the streets of the ether that I mapped above, but then I ended up changing the recipe and adapting it to my taste, and I added the almonds to make it a lot less light and vitamin-loaded. Or much more energetic, take it as you please. :-)


Almond Cake
with Blood Orange and Olive Oil
for a 9" loaf pan

flour 225 gr
almonds 100 gr
sugar 185 gr
eggs 3
extra-virgin olive oil 125 ml
plain yogurt 120 gr
organic blood oranges 3 large
baking powder 1/2 package (= 8 gr)
almond extract 1/2 teaspoon
salt 1 pinch
butter and flour for the pan as needed

Grate zest of the oranges and mix it with sugar, taking care not to remove the white, bitter part. It would be best to do this somewhat in advance, so that the sugar is well soaked with orange aroma. In a separate bowl combine flour, baking powder and salt. Toast almonds in the oven for about ten minutes, grind them in a food processor until they're reduced to a powder, and add to flour. Keep aside.
Squeeze the oranges in order to have 125 grams of juice (and please mind the precision with which I've measured it... oh yes, it's a tough life that of a fooblogger; one can never bake a simple cake in full relax!).
Beat eggs with orange infused sugar until the mixture becomes sort of fluffy; add almond extract, olive oil, yogurt and orange juice. At the end mix flour and almonds, stir well and pour the batter into the pan that has been previously buttered and floured. Bake at 350 for about 60-70 minutes, or until the classic toothpick stuck in the center comes out nice and clean.

Chocolate Walnut Cake by Pellegrino Artusi

About Pellegrino Artusi you probably know everything, and I'm also sure that unlike me, you've already tried a hundred of his recipes. For me, this would be... uh... the first time. After giving the go-ahead to Donna Hay, I thought to devote myself to another celebrity. And I must say, I like this Artusi, not only because this cake is delicious (plus it has no butter, and this makes it much less violent than the caprese, which is actually vaguely similar); but also because, reading here and there, I've learnt that he devoted himself to the culinary art only after he retired, and that he published his famous recipe book at his own expense at the tender age of 71 years. Which is to say, hope revives for all, whatever the road that everyone chooses to follow.


Chocolate Walnut cake
by Pellegrino Artusi
for a round cake pan of 9" diameter

dark chocolate 140 gr.
sugar 140 gr.
walnut, shelled 140 gr.
eggs 4
vanilla extract 1 tablespoon
candied lemon (or citron) 30 gr.
butter and bread crumbs for the pan as needed

Coarsely chop the nuts with some of the sugar (of course Artusi says in a mortar, but if we modernize everything and use a mixer instead, it'll be all right...), and pour them in a large bowl with the rest of the sugar. Coarsely chop the chocolate too, then the candied citron or lemon (yes yes... green light to the mixer!), and combine them with the nuts as well. Add vanilla extract and egg yolks, and stir well until the batter comes together. Whip the egg whites until firm, then add them to the nut-chocolate mixture, stirring gently from top to bottom. Grease a round baking pan with a dot of butter and sprinkle it with bread crumbs, pour in the dough (which should be not higher than one inch), and bake at 350 for about half an hour.
It's the classic Sunday cake, which is also well accepted today, although we're only on Wednesday, what you think?

Crumble Cake with Ricotta and Amaretti

If you decide to make yourself a bowl of ricotta (or ricotta-like stuff, call it the way you want...), you'd better have an action plan ready in order to get the most out of it. And if by any chance these past two days some of you have been losing sleep trying to figure out what happened to my home-made batch, here's the answer.
The recipe is by Elena di Giovanni, and it's been in the Hit Parade of CI forum (the online forum of the Cucina Italiana Magazine, ed) for long time. I think it has circled around the blogosphere more than a thousand times, but if, for some reason, some of you don't know it yet, I suggest you immediately run in the kitchen and get down to work. I'm almost going back myself...


Crumble Cake
with Ricotta & Amaretti
for a round cake pan of 9" diameter

For the Dough
flour 300 gr.
butter, at room temperature 100 gr.
egg 1
sugar 100 gr.
baking powder 1 package (16 gr.)
vanilla extract 1 teaspoon
milk as needed

For the Filling
fresh ricotta 300 gr.
egg 1
sugar 90 gr.
amaretti about 20

For the filling, mix the ricotta with the egg and sugar, beat well until the mixture is smooth and homogeneous. Crumble the amaretti and mix them with the filling. Cover with plastic wrap and keep refrigerated until ready to use.
For the dough, mix the flour, butter, egg and sugar until large crumbs form. Add baking powder and vanilla and, if necessary, a couple of tablespoons of milk, which will help to blend the mixture and to get large crumbs. Grease the pan with butter and dust it with flour (I've used 4 smaller pans instead), then cover the bottom with about half of the crumbs, leveling the layer with a slight pressure of your hands. Spread the ricotta mixture on top, leaving a free border of about half inch. Cover with the rest of the crumbs. Bake at 350 degrees for about 40 minutes. Allow to cool completely, then sprinkle some confectioners' sugar on top before serving.

Orange Cake

I've followed him for weeks, I've been making eyes at him, I kept smiling at him while drinking his coffee, and in the end I've made it! The owner of the coffee shop near my work finally forked out the recipe of those little round cheese breads that I'd never been able to decipher. I then found out that Pao de Queijo is a Brazilian specialty, eaten as a snack or with coffee.
And what does this have to do with the post? The thing is, while I was busy copying the recipe of Pao de Queijo, handwritten on a Post-It stuck on the wall behind the cash register, my eyes fell inadvertently...ehm...more or less inadvertently on a series of ingredients listed under the words Orange Cake.
And while I haven't been able to make the cheese rolls yet (you have to use special tapioca flour, which - believe it or not - I still don't have...), for this cake I din't have to think twice. Quick, simple and all in all pretty light as well. Et voila'.


Orange Cake
for a 9" diameter pan

organic orange, large 1
sugar 250 gr.
eggs, room temperature 4
vegetable oil 100 gr.
water 50 gr.
flour 225 gr.
baking powder 1/4 teaspoon
baking soda 3/4 teaspoon
salt a pinch
powdered sugar for dusting to taste

Puree orange in a food processor (the whole thing, with the skin, yes, yes, for this cake nothing gets wasted, and obviously the orange must be organic). In a large bowl beat egg yolks with sugar until you light and smooth, add oil, water, pureed orange and salt. Mix well, then add flour sifted with baking powder and baking soda, and stir well. In a separate bowl, beat egg whites until stiff and then fold them gently in the batter. Pour everything in the cake pan, properly buttered and floured, and bake at 350 for about 45-50 minutes. Let the cake cool off, then dust it with powdered sugar.

Almond Cake

This cake is really a bomb. Of calories and tastiness. I've been bringing the recipe along ever since I started working in a coffee-shop in Berkeley, which I'd already told you about, here. Over the years, I've changed it a little bit to better suite my taste, reducing both the amount of sugar and that of almond paste.

Yesterday I decided to make it again and pair it with pomegranate syrup, to ease the almonds’ sweetness with the fruit's tangy taste. To tell you the truth, everything started off with the syrup, or rather, even further back, with a bottle of pure pomegranate juice that wanted to slip at all costs in the cart while I was grocery shopping. At home, it begged me not to waste it for an ordinary glass of juice and to give it a second chance instead. Fair enough. I gave in and turned it in syrup, thinking that that was it. Instead even this one started whining and to make it shut up I had to put something next to it, for it to slide down. This is how I eventually got to the cake.
Now tell me, does this happen to you as well?


Almond Cake
for a 9" diameter round pan

almond paste 1 200 gr-package
sugar 200 gr
butter, room temperature 250 gr
eggs, room temperature 6
flour 150 gr
vanilla extract 1 teaspoon
salt one pinch
baking powder 1 and 1/2 teaspoon
sugar, water, slivered almond and powdered sugar to finish to taste

Work sugar with almond paste, and break this apart very well (I recommend using the Kitchen Aid rather then the electric mixer for this). Add softened butter and vanilla extract and mix well until the batter is smooth and creamy. Add eggs, one at a time, stirring well before adding the next one. Add flour, sifted with baking powder and salt. Mix well, then pour the batter in the pan, properly buttered and floured, and bake at 320 for about 1 hour and 15 minutes.
Let cool on a rack. Meanwhile toast the slivered almond in the oven and make a light syrup dissolving two tablespoons of sugar in a pan with some water.
Brush the syrup on top of the cake, sprinkle with almonds and dust with powdered sugar (you can also skip the almond covering and simply dust the cake with powdered sugar). Serve with pomegranate syrup or another sauce of your choice.
I'll post the syrup next time : )

Pistachio, Yogurt and Olive Oil Cake

I have too many books (maybe). For sure I have too many recipe books. And less and less space to keep them.
Please note that this is not a sudden revelation on the way to Damascus, but the result of an infallible formula that takes into account the following factors:

• the total cubic feet available, times the hopes of getting a bigger place one day;
• the total possible recipes, divided by the number of days in one year;
• the difference between good intentions and the cost/time ratio of take-away;
• the average conversion to buy of the emails I receive every week from Amazon, where they tempt me with a Dear Sara, since you bought the fabulous Book on Jams, we thought you may be interested in the latest publication about Cream Puffs.

From whichever side you may want to take it, the formula yields always the same result: I have too many books (maybe). For sure I have too many recipe books. And less and less space to keep them.

With the objective of finding a remedy for this dramatic situation, I came up with the following strategy:
1) Take a random book from the shelf;
2) Open a random page of the aforementioned book;
3) Test the recipe;
4) If the recipe doesn't work, recycle the book by putting it for sale on Amazon(the proceeds cannot be allocated to the purchase of another recipe book);
5) If the recipe works, you're allowed to keep the aforementioned book;
6) In order to maximize the effort, use the final product of the test as subject of your daily post.

Needless to say, the cake under discussion here is the first act of this brilliant strategy. The book it comes from is safe for now, as for me, I may not be yet.


Turkish Pistachio Cake
with Yogurt and Olive Oil
for a 9" diameter spring form

pistachios, unsalted and without the shell 140 gr.
flour 125 gr.
baking soda 3/4 teaspoon
baking powder 1/4 teaspoon
salt a pinch
eggs, room temperature 6
sugar 150 gr.
plain yogurt 180 gr.
extra-virgin olive oil 85 gr.
cream of tartar 1/2 teaspoon
confectioners' sugar for dusting

Toast pistachios in the oven at 300 degrees, paying attention not to let them become too dark. Rub them between your hands to remove as much skin as possible, and then grind them finely.
In a bowl, sift flour with baking powder, baking soda and salt. Beat egg yolks with half of the sugar, until thick and foamy. Add yogurt, olive oil and mix again. Fold in flour and ground pistachios. In a separate bowl, beat egg whites with cream of tartar. When they are thick enough, add the rest of the sugar and keep beating until they are thick and shiny. Gently fold egg whites to the batter, paying attention not to make them go flat.
Pour the batter in a buttered and floured spring form, and bake at 350 for approximately 55 minutes. Let it cool on a rack, dust with confectioners' sugar and serve.

Light Carrot Almond Cake

Like everyone's Grandma, mine also is the best cook ever, with her simple yet flavourful meals that had fed an always growing family for decades. And like everyone's Grandma, mine also cooks and bakes without scales, weights, measuring tools or gadgets of any kind. Nicht. Nada. All that counts are her instinct and experience, along with the availability of ingredients and the imagination of the moment. As a result, you can't find in her kitchen the classic Recipe Notebook, and the few ones she had written here and there on loose paper sheets are those she's never tried, so you might as well not bother...

Every time you try asking her Can you tell me how you make these?, you already know that it'll be useless, the recipe she tries to dictate goes all like this: Add a little flour..., Yes, but how much? I don't know, the right amount, as much as the dough can absorb; ...ehm....; Then add a handful of sugar... But more or less? Well, I don't know, just taste it...And then you fold in some eggs...; Eggs are easy, Grandma, how many? It all depends on how big they are... And the egg whites, do you need to whisk them stiff? I don't remember, it will occur to me once I make it...
So I usually give up, thinking that maybe it's better that way, some dishes wouldn't make sense outside of her kitchen where the dog is always seated at the head of the table acting as the official taster. Other times I can torture her to the end and I'm able to write out everything with the accuracy of a medieval monk, only to find out when time comes that the cookies turn out hard as stones, the tart crumbles under the filling's weight and the gnocchi don't come back to the surface anymore. It's like when those famous chefs go on TV, you already know that their recipes will be obscure, or, if you are lucky, they will omit one of the main ingredients. And all you get is a legendary, unforgettable disaster.

Yesterday, when I found this recipe in the middle of my old notes, I thought that maybe that day Grandma was hiding me the fat element. No oil, no butter, cream or yogurt. It sounded a bit odd, but I wanted to give it a try anyways, exactly how I had written it down. And for once the result was really satisfying: a super soft and light cake, perfect for breakfast. It's a sort of carrot sponge cake.
To make it richer, I filled it with some ricotta cream, but I think it'd go well also with some vanilla or lemon scented pastry cream. Or even simply paired with a huge latte : )


Carrot Almond Cake
Very Very Light
for a 9" diameter spring form

eggs 5
confectioners' sugar 150 gr.
carrots 250 gr.
almond 200 gr.
corn starch 100 gr.
baking powder 3/4 teaspoon
lemon 1
confectioners' sugar for dusting

Beat yolks with confectioners' sugar until light and fluffy. Add grated carrots, finely ground almonds, grated zest of lemon and a couple of spoons of its juice. Mix well, then add corn starch, sifted with baking powder. Whisk egg whites until firm, then gently fold them in.
Bake at 350 for about 40 or 50 minutes. Let it cool on a rack. Cut the cake in two layers, moist them by pouring over few teaspoons of milk and then spread over one of them the lemon scented ricotta cream (work about 250 gr. ricotta cheese with 2 tablespoons of confectioners' sugar and grated zest of 1/2 lemon until it gets smooth; whisk two egg whites until stiff and fold them gently into the cheese).
Reassemble the cake and dust generously with confectioners' sugar.

Birthday Cake (Rum Cake)

When I was a kid, I used to think that wind was made by trees, who collectively decided to move air around by shaking their branches. I used to believe that by the time you had grown up, you would get a new name, because to me there were names for kids, like mine and that of my brother and sister, and names for adults, like that of my parents and grandparents.

At four, I didn't think that one could long for a whole closet full of shoes, because the only thing I wanted was a pair of black lacquer ballerina flats. Back then I was sure that inside my grandma's clock there were two goblins throwing the pendulum to each other, like if they were playing table tennis, and sometimes I felt sorry for them because I knew they were really tired. I also used to think that on Saturday night it was required to eat pizza, and I used to believe that this one was the only cake possible. Certainly to me it was the best cake in the world.
The first time I ate it was here, a summer afternoon of many years ago, at a time when me, my brother and sister were still forced to have the same haircut. When our hair got too long, my mum would put a bowl on our head, upside down, trying to pair the edges with fine scissors' strokes.

Now that I see the cake again, covered with cream puffs or chocolate icing, I think that both of those variations must have been a lot tastier than this one. Yet, the version with whipped cream and sliced pineapple is the one I remember the most and to which I'm more attached. Maybe it's because me and my brother would always fight to get the pineapple juice that was left in the can, right after licking what had remained of the pastry cream on the wooden spoon.
Its name was Torta Margherita (literally Daisy Cake, it's Italian for Sponge Cake) and it was really special because my mum would always make it for our birthday (and for our birthday only). I know for a fact that if you ask my brother and sister which is the dish from their childhood that they remember with the most salivation, they will put this cake in the top three as well, along with the rabbit with salame and chicken liver and the white cannelloni we used to have for lunch on Sundays.

Few years ago I copied some recipes from the old family notebook and I stuck them in my suitcase. But I've never wanted to try any of them, whether because I was too lazy or because I felt some sort of awe. Up until today, when I finally made up my mind, and it was the best gift I could get.


Torta Margherita
for a 9" diameter round pan

For the Sponge Cake
sugar 150 gr.
vanilla sugar 1 package
(can be substituted with vanilla essence)
eggs 6
type 0 flour 75 gr.
potato starch 75 gr.
baking powder 1/2 package (about 1/2 teaspoon)
grated zest of one lemon
rum, sugar and water to moisten the cake

In a bain-marie, beat the eggs with the sugar and the vanilla sugar until the mixture gets white and firm. Remove from the stove and keep mixing until it cools off. Sift flour with potato starch and baking powder and add to the egg mixture along with the lemon zest.
Pour in the baking form, properly buttered and dusted with flour, and bake at medium temperature (350) for approximately 35-40 minutes.
When the cake has cooled down (it's better to do it the next day), sliced it in three layers and moisten them with some rum, diluted in warm water with a little sugar.

For the Pastry Creams
milk 1/2 liter
1 vanilla stick
sugar 150 gr.
flour 50 gr.
eggs 2
egg yolks 2
butter 25 gr.
grated zest of one lemon, cocoa

To Finish
fresh whipping cream 1 pint
confectioner's sugar 2 tablespoons
sliced pineapple in juice 1 can

Bring the milk to boil with the vanilla stick, scraping out the seeds. In a separate bowl, beat sugar with the eggs and egg yolks. Add sifted flour, mix well and then pour the batter little by little over the hot milk. Stir well and cook at low heat for about 10 minutes, always stirring.
Let it cool down, add butter and mix well until melted. Divide the cream in half and add the lemon zest to one half and a couple of teaspoons of cocoa to the other half. Fill the cake with the two creams, one per layer, and reassemble it.
Whip the cream with the confectioner's sugar until it gets very firm, then spread it evenly over the cake. Garnish with coloured sugar crystals and pineapple slices.

If you're interested, I'm copying here the recipe for the chocolate icing, exactly how I found it in the notebook.

For the Chocolate Icing
dark chocolate 1 bar
oil 1 tablespoon, scarce
water

Chop the chocolate bar and let it melt in a pan with a little water. Add a bit of oil and stir until mixture is fluid. Let it cool down, then cover the cake.
Easy, isn't it? : )