This was not the cake I wanted. But it happened. I am glad in retrospect.
These days, I find time giving me the slip all too often. While I sit glued to my work, tweaking here and tuning there, the sun rose high to midday, and, seemingly dipped behind the horizon, without my noticing any of it. I turn around and I am surprised to see the moon is hanging full and radiant where I fully expected the sun to be; The lightness of day given away entirely to the sticky inkiness of night.
Suddenly, I realize I forgot to breathe all day. In a striking moment of clarity, it dawns on me that I have not been particularly been productive for the last few hours, yet, have been mulishly pushing myself. It all seems laughable. Except I am not. I am annoyed. For the unconscious passage of time. For the lapsed focus. For the absence of awareness of my slipping efficiency. For the stubbornness that is me. For the annoyance I feel right now, this instant! ;-)
I am fuming. I push back my chair in disgust, not resolution. I pace. I take a sip of water. I stare. And, staring back at me, is the inviting oasis of my open-spaced kitchen. The moment of tension breaks. Only to be replaced by the urgency of wanting to make something. Feverishly, I scout the web, standing. I want to get to the kitchen instantly. Sitting may just threaten that.
I find
. Chocolate. Yes. Endorphins. Needed. Yes, yes! The blood pounds to my brain. I run to the pantry. No chocolate. I deflate. Even as I slowly close the pantry drawer in disappointment, I realize I need to breathe, slowly.
I take a tentative step. I steady my mind and tell it to be patient. Slow down. Take time. Stay in the space of the moment.
I reach for my cookbook bibles. Julia Child. In the absence of chocolate, I want butter; lots of it. It helps that I have freshly churned butter sitting in my fridge. Standing by my kitchen counter, I flip through the pages, surprisingly, in leisure. My mind seems assuaged by the thought that some thing will get baked. And, it will be sweet, very likely, very good.
I find a recipe for a pound cake. As many cakes and other sweet stuff as I have baked, the pound cake never quite made that list. Until now. The abject simplicity of the recipe spoke to me. If you are looking for a completely unprocessed recipe, this is it. In its humbleness, lies its strength. 4 ingredients. All of the same weight. Folded together. Gently, respectfully. Baked slowly.
Sliced in warmth. Melted into hot tea. Savored deeply. Recaptured time. A pace behind and happy for it.
The subtle floral citrus notes from the orange makes this cake. Its aroma perfumes the room and rounds off the palate. The cake was divine on its own, the richness of the ingredients coming through solidly. Pound cakes have longer shelf life; the amount of butter, ensures its moistness for longer. But, if you ever tire of eating slices of it as is or toasted, it can be easily reincarnated into another dessert, like a trifle.
Orange Pound Cake
{remembering the 4 main ingredients and that they must be of equal weight is all you need to know for this recipe. The rest is simply working them together.}
1/4 lb flour
1/4 lb butter, room temperature
1/4 lb eggs
1/4 lb raw sugar, finely ground
zest of one orange
Preheat the oven to 350F.
Whip the eggs and sugar until really airy and fluffy.
Rub the zest into the flour, using the tips of your fingers.
Pulse the flour into the egg mixture in three parts.
Add the butter in two parts and pulse for 15 seconds each time until the batter is just mixed. Do not over mix, the cake will come out too dense.
Pour the batter into a 5 inch loaf pan and strongly pat down on to the counter to let any air bubbled escape. I didn't do this well enough as you can see in the holes in my crumb.
Bake for 35-40 minutes until the cake is springy to touch, golden on top and the house is filled with the aroma of the orange.
Transfer onto to rack, cool for a few minutes.
The beauty of this cake is you can slice into it warm!