A Midsummer Day's Dream . . . Cream Cheese Nectarine Cake with Crumbly Streusel

Nectarines . . . really fine, really sweet nectarines. Not something one can necessarily count on finding here in Michigan. Usually, though, that doesn't matter. Why? Because typically, in mid-July, we're wallowing in a surplus of glorious local cherries, baking them into this and stirring them into that, not giving those pretty nectarines from out of state a second thought. But late winter weather played holy havoc with Michigan's cherry orchards this year, leaving us with the most pathetic harvest in decades. Trees that would normally be bending under the weight of crimson fruit look instead as if they've been ever so lightly dotted with red.  Just a cherry here, a cherry there. Sorry, folks--forget about "pickin' your own" and keep your fingers crossed for next year.

No home-grown cherries? For born and bred Michiganders that scenario is virtually unheard of. So, nothing left to do but rev up the contingency plans. Time to focus on nectarines instead, nectarines that hail inevitably from elsewhere. A sobering thought, no doubt. Miraculously, though, they're incredibly sweet and more than up to snuff. I've been shocked by their quality, thus I've been munching them the last few days with an unbridled sense of righteous privilege, like a koala in a eucalyptus tree. Don't try to stop me.

About this recipe . . . 

I adapted this from The Grand Central Baking Book, by Piper Davis and Ellen Jackson (I love this book, by the way, and recommend it). I started with their recipe for a cream cheese apple cake, but made some significant tweaks.

First, I reduced the overall size of the recipe by about one third, from one that would produce a large 12" bundt cake down to a reasonably sized 9" round cake made in springform pan. I used a relatively small amount of chopped ripe nectarines, unpeeled, in the batter versus a sizable portion of peeled apples. I added in a modest amount of almond flour/meal (if you can't find it in your usual grocery store, check at Trader Joe's, Whole Foods, or health food stores), which lends a subtle richness to the texture without adding any overt almond flavor. I upped the amount of vanilla, in fact using vanilla bean paste instead of extract, and I also fiddled with the proportion of cinnamon. 


The addition of a streusel topping worked out well, too; I just threw together flour, sugar, almond flour/meal, cold butter, and a pinch of fine sea salt and went at it with a pastry blender. You can count on a cake that happily straddles the fence between a coffee cake and a not-too-dense pound cake. A great cake overall, even without our beloved Michigan cherries.

Cream Cheese Nectarine Cake with Crumbly Streusel


(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Yield: About 16 slices

For the cake:
2 and 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1/2 cup almond flour/meal
1 teaspoon baking powder
2/3 teaspoon coarse kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2/3 cup unsalted butter, softened (that's one stick and about 2.5 tablespoons)
8 oz. cream cheese
2 cups granulated sugar
3 large eggs, room temperature
1 and 1/2 teaspoons vanilla bean paste (or vanilla extract)
1 extra-large ripe nectarine, unpeeled, pitted, and chopped into very small pieces

For the streusel:
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup almond meal/flour
1/4 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
5 tablespoons of cold, unsalted butter, cut into small chunks
1 pinch fine-grain sea salt

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour a 9" springform pan.

Make the streusel first:

In a medium bowl, whisk together the sugar, almond meal/flour, and all purpose flour. Toss in the butter chunks and combine with a pastry blender or a fork until most of the mixture is in pieces approximately the size of a large pea. Cover the bowl and put it in the fridge.

To make the cake batter:

In a medium bowl, lightly whisk together the flour, almond flour/meal, baking powder, salt, and cinnamon. Set aside.

In the large bowl of your mixer, using the paddle attachment on medium-high speed, beat together the butter, cream cheese, and sugar until the mixture is fluffy and light in color (beat for at least five minutes and as long as eight). On low speed, add in all of the vanilla, and add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each one. Stop and scrape the bowl and paddle periodically.

Still on low speed, add in all of the nectarine pieces, beating just for a few seconds to combine, then add in all of the dry ingredients. Mix only until the flour looks completely incorporated. Scrape all the batter into your greased and floured cake pan. Sprinkle all of the streusel evenly over the top.

Bake the cake on the middle rack of the oven for about 55-65 minutes. You'll know it's done when the top is lightly golden, the sides are just beginning to pull away from the pan, the top of the cake doesn't jiggle at all when you move it, and a toothpick inserted in the center come out mostly dry. Check your cake after about 40 minutes and if it appears to be browning too fast, lay a piece of foil loosely over the top. Let the finished cake cool in its pan on a rack for at least 15 minutes, then run a thin knife around the sides, remove the springform carefully, and let the cake finish cooling on the rack.

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Vanilla Rose-Petal Madeleines . . .

My bakery merchandising class, which just ended last week, was interesting, fun, and a lot of work. One of my final projects involved baking, packaging, displaying, and promoting a selection of madeleines to be sold in the culinary school's retail bakery. We were allowed to make just about anything we wanted to, with our teacher's approval, and most of the items we created sold really well. There were neopolitan marshmallows, chocolate dipped meringue cookies, coconut macaroons, small decorated layer cakes, three-dimensional cookies that looked like the Eiffel tower, mocha brownie whoopie pies, petit fours, and mini-tarts. Along with all of that was the usual bakery fare--breads, pies, pastries, cookie bars, you name it. In light of all that was offered, I was astonished that the madeleines, which were packed in small boxes of six, sold out in a couple of hours. Because of their out of the ordinary flavor profiles I expected they might not fly off the shelf, but luckily that wasn't the case.

I made three varieties--honey and lavender (made with dried culinary lavender and mild clover honey), orange blossom (made with orange blossom honey, orange flower water, and orange zest), and vanilla rose petal. After baking about 150 of the petite and tender cakes, I lightly glazed them and, once dry, carefully tucked them into boxes atop a frilly paper doily. The boxes were tied with narrow organdy ribbon (lavender, pale orange, or pink, depending on the flavor) and each was given a pretty label. They were on sale in conjunction with a festive Paris-themed dinner that was open to the public.

 

Have you ever made madeleines? They're simple to prepare but have their own idiosyncrasies and, contrary to what one might think, the assortment of recipes available to make them is pretty diverse. Some formulas make a big point of requiring that you chill the batter for hours, while others don't bother with this step at all. Some emphasize egg yolks, while others may require beaten egg whites. Some say that almond flour is de rigeur, others don't even bring the topic up.

And then there's the controversial hump on the back of the madeleine: does its presence signal a better madeleine, or is the debate just a tempest in a teapot? I guess it's cute . . . as bumps, humps, and lumps on cakes or cookies go . . . but why all the hoopla? I cranked out many experimental batches of madeleines over the last several weeks and, as far as I can tell, that little hump--present or not--doesn't impact taste or texture one iota. In my humble opinion, you haven't failed if your madeleines don't emerge looking pregnant on one side, so don't worry. (Today's recipe is non-hump, just fyi.)

About this recipe . . . 

Adapted from a plain madeleine recipe found in the Cook's Illustrated website, this gives you a soft little cake. The use of dried rose petals, along with rose water, was my idea; I am crazy about them. They both smell so beautiful. I ordered these dried culinary roses from an organic farm in Ohio, and they were remarkably inexpensive. To grind them finely, I pulsed them in a clean, small, coffee grinder that I often use as a spice grinder.

Have you ever baked with roses or rose water? No doubt about it, they don't show up in typical American baking very often, but they're absolutely worth a try. To the uninitiated, their perfume may seem startling. And it feels strange, at first, to put something that smells so floral into food (also true for orange flower water, or lavender), but it's the purity of the scent that wins you over. They smell like the genuine essence of the flower itself, not soapy or synthetic. Use each sparingly, as a little of either ingredient goes an extremely long way.

Madeleines are good with a cup of tea, it's true. Bite into one, take a nice hot sip of tea, and let your thoughts drift like Marcel Proust's. Perhaps you'll evoke an "involuntary memory," something wonderful from your childhood, all prompted by the mysterious taste of a flowery madeleine.

Vanilla Rose-Petal Madeleines
(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Yield: 12 large madeleines

Carefully butter and flour a 12-cavity madeleine pan. (I use inexpensive pans from a company called Fox Run; they work just fine. I butter and flour more than just the cavities. To be entirely on the safe side I prep the entire top of the pan. Biggest potential problem with madeleines is getting them out of the pan. Take no chances!)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Ingredients for batter:
2 large egg yolks, not cold
1 large whole egg, not cold
1/4 granulated sugar
3/4 tsp. rose water
3/4 tsp. vanilla extract
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup cake flour
1 pinch kosher salt


3/4 tsp. crushed or ground culinary rose petals (dried)
1/4 cup melted butter, not hot

Ingredients for glaze:
Approximately 1 cup confectioners' sugar, sifted
1 to 2 tsp. crushed rose petals
1 tsp. rose water, or adjust amount to taste
About 2 Tbsp. plain water (more or less depending on how thick you want your glaze)

To make the batter:
In a medium bowl, sift together the flours, salt, and ground rose petals. Set aside.

Using the whip attachment on your mixer, beat the egg yolks, whole egg, vanilla, and rose water on medium-high speed until frothy and fluffy, about three minutes. Slowly pour in the sugar, beating on medium-high speed for about five minutes or more, until you can see a ribbon of batter in the bowl when you stop the mixer and and lift the whip attachment. The batter should be very light and fluffy.

Take the bowl off the mixer. Gradually fold in the dry ingredients using a spatula. Fold very gently and carefully.

 Then do the same with the melted butter.

Spoon the batter evenly into the madeleine pan, filling the cavities all the way. It's okay if the batter mounds over the top a bit. Don't bother smoothing the batter; you don't want to deflate it, and it will smooth out on its own in the oven.

Place the pan on the middle rack and bake for about 10 minutes, or until golden and the madeleines spring back when lightly pressed.

Spread out a clean dishcloth on your work surface. When the madeleines come out of the oven, turn them out right onto the dishcloth. You need to get them out of the pans while they're still very hot. Do not let them cool in the pans.

While they're still warm, glaze them. Make the glaze by whisking the sifted confectioners' sugar with the crushed rose petals. Stir in rose water and plain water and keep stirring until the glaze is lump free. I think it's best to make the glaze pretty thin. The madeleines are delicate when warm, so they're easily broken. The heavier the glaze, the more likely they'll be damaged. I glaze mine by holding some glaze in a large spoon over a small bowl of glaze, and I dip just the shell-shaped top in the glaze.

Let the glazed madeleines dry on the dishcloth. Store them tightly covered after they're dry and fully cooled. They're best when very fresh, but are pretty good for about the first two days.

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Raspberry Euphoria Coffee-Cake . . . A Tale of Magnetron Redemption

It was 11:00 on Wednesday morning and I stood in my kitchen, face to face with a kindly appliance repairman. "Whatcha need here is a new magnetron . . . that's whatcha need." His tone was laced with sympathy. He knew the very word sounded expensive: Magnetron. Like something Superman might keep stashed under his cape for emergencies.

I gaped at him silently. "Why not just tell me I need a new cyclotron?" That's what I wanted to say, but I  merely nodded and let him continue. "Now, you might still be under warranty, but I dunno. Gotta go to my truck and check it out." While he was gone I pondered the implications. The odds were slim and none that I wouldn't have to pay to replace this futuristic-sounding part. All I wanted was for my once-high-end built-in microwave oven to heat stuff again, and to do so without making aggrieved grinding noises. It had suddenly conked out a couple of days before. My 15-year-old son, a devoted user of the thing, stuck a little note on it that read, "May God help us all."

Imagine my surprise when the friendly repairman popped back in the door and glanced at me reassuringly. Yep, I was still covered and he actually had the part with him! He finished the job within half an hour and my bill was minimal, relatively speaking. I was so happy I just had to bake something. Not in the microwave, of course, but you know what I mean. Sometimes when little daily events like that actually go well, a girl gets the urge to celebrate by baking. It's a perfectly natural response, don't you think?

About this recipe . . .

This one is all mine. Yep, a completely original recipe right from the get-go (whoo hoo!) and I thought the cake turned out really well--not overly sweet, not too rich, just right. It's a simple formula that makes use of ricotta cheese in the batter, and a small amount of cream cheese in the streusel. Fresh raspberries and a smidgen of seedless raspberry jam factor in as well. So, all in all, it was a very good day. I made the cake shortly after the repairman, whose name I never did catch (Clark Kent, maybe?), drove away. If he'd still been here, I'd have given him a nice big wedge of it to take home.

Raspberry Euphoria Coffee-Cake
(or, if you prefer, Raspberry Ricotta Coffee-Cake with Cream Cheese Streusel)

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. This can be made in a 9" round regular cake pan, or a 9" found springform pan.

Butter your pan. Line the bottom with a round piece of parchment paper, then butter the parchment. Flour the inside of the whole pan, tapping out the excess.

Ingredients for the streusel topping, and glaze:
3 oz. cold cream cheese, cut into 1/2" chunks
2 oz. cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2" chunks
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1/3 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
1 small pinch salt (I used regular salt)

3 Tbsp. seedless raspberry jam (to drizzle atop the streusel when you assemble the cake)

For the glaze:
1 cup (or more) confectioners' sugar
2 Tbsp. milk (add more if you'd like a thinner glaze)
1/8 tsp. almond extract (optional)


Ingredients for the cake:
1 cup traditional ricotta cheese, not too cold
2 large eggs, room temperature
1/3 cup unsalted butter, melted but not hot
1 cup granulated sugar
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
2 and 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. coarse kosher salt
6 oz. fresh raspberries

Make the streusel first:
In a medium size bowl, mix the sugar, flour, and salt with a fork. Cut-in the cream cheese and butter chunks using a hand-held pastry blender or a couple of knives (you can even do this with your fingers if you're quick about it), until small visible chunks of miscellaneous size remain. Cover the bowl and chill the streusel while you prepare the batter.

Make the batter:
In a medium size bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt; set aside.

In the large bowl of your mixer, using the paddle attachment on medium-low speed, mix together the ricotta, eggs, melted butter, sugar, and vanilla until smooth; about two or three minutes.

Now on low speed, add the flour in gradually, mixing just until well combined for a minute or so. 

Spread half the batter into your prepared pan.

Dot the batter with half the fresh raspberries and gently press them partway down into the batter.

Spoon the rest of the batter on top and smooth it out with a small offset spatula; scatter the remaining berries and gently press them into the batter.

Stir the chilled streusel with a fork, and evenly scatter all of it onto the top of the cake batter. Drizzle the seedless raspberry jam here and there in little streaks over the top of the streusel.

Bake the cake on the middle rack for about 35 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out mostly dry. The cake should be just lightly golden on top, and more golden on the sides. The sides of the cake should look like they've begun to pull away from the sides of the pan.

While the cake is starting to cool, mix up the glaze. In a small bowl, stir together the confectioners' sugar, milk, and almond extract. Just keep stirring until the glaze is completely smooth. Add more sugar if you'd like a thicker glaze; add slightly more milk if you prefer a thinner glaze. 

Let the cake cool for 15 minutes, no more and no less, on a rack before attempting to remove it from the pan.

Run a thin knife or metal spatula around the sides of the pan. Place a plate over the top of the cake and quickly invert it, tapping firmly on the bottom of the pan to help knock it out. Lift off the pan, then place the cooling rack on the cake bottom; still holding firmly onto the plate, re-invert the cake back onto the rack to let it finish cooling.

 

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Fresh Apple Cake with Boiled Cider Glaze . . .

Maybe you saw from my previous post that my father passed away recently? I mention this again only because, while he was ill over the latter half of the summer, my urge to bake just about completely fizzled. It was kind of like my inner pilot-light temporarily flickered out. I had other things on my mind, of course, and my energy was directed elsewhere. I guess baking for pleasure seemed like a frivolous pursuit.

But now, as I restart my internal baking engine, so to speak, I realize that I want to make things that are distinctly comfort inducing--dishes that remind me of why I love baking to begin with, and that evoke the sense of contentment I knew as a kid while watching my mom move confidently about her kitchen. I can still see the silver beaters on her Sunbeam mixer whirling in place as she hovered nearby, spatula poised, her blue eyes riveted on a bowl of pound-cake batter or thick chocolate icing. I don't think it would be stretching the truth to say that my dad enjoyed just about every food she ever prepared, and each night as we finished dinner, he'd thank her for having made it. I know that left an impression on me.

My dad loved the fact that I was always baking and I recall how surprised and charmed he was a couple of years ago when I informed him I was entering culinary school part-time to study the baking and pastry arts. He often asked me what I was working on, and occasionally requested that I make homemade bread for him, or peanut butter cookies, or creamy clam chowder. Eventually, he couldn't keep it in his mind that I was in culinary school at all, but that was okay. Though in the last several weeks he couldn't have told you what decade it was or what he'd had for lunch one minute after he ate it, he still recognized the most important things in life and, even up to the end, was still alert enough to give and receive expressions of love. I'll always be grateful for that.

 
About this recipe . . .

That desire of mine to bake comfort food brings me to today's fresh apple cake. Adapted from a recipe for apple rum cake found in pastry chef Nick Malgieri's book, Perfect Cakes, I omitted his use of the rum altogether and substituted a larger amount of boiled cider for the primary flavoring ingredient. I also used boiled cider in the glaze instead of rum, and I left raisins out of the batter as well.

What the heck is boiled cider, you may be asking? It's exactly what it sounds like. It's apple cider that has been slowly reduced in much the same way maple sap is cooked down into maple syrup. You can buy boiled cider in a bottle, like the kind I used for this recipe, or you can try making it yourself by simmering two cups of cider in an uncovered saucepan over low heat until it's shrunk down to 2/3 of a cup (that last bit of advice I found in my old copy of Richard Sax's indispensable book, Classic Home Desserts: A Treasury of Heirloom and Contemporary Recipes). Boiled cider still tastes exactly like cider, but in a richly concentrated form; it's very good.

I adjusted this cake recipe further by adding in restrained pinches of nutmeg and cinnamon--only enough to hint at their spicy presence, and of course I reworded it to reflect exactly what I did. Moist and satisfying, this simple cake is just right for early fall. Not too sweet, and the use of the boiled cider really pumps up the apple flavor. A good bet for brunch, dessert, or a nice afternoon snack with a cup of tea.

Fresh Apple Cake with Boiled Cider Glaze
(For a printable version of these recipes, click here!)

Yield:  One 9" cake, baked in a springform pan.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter the bottom and sides of a 9" springform pan, line the bottom of the pan with a 9" parchment paper circle, then butter the parchment.


Ingredients for the cake:
2 large tart apples (I used Granny Smiths), peeled, cored, halved, and sliced into pieces about 1/8" thick
3 Tbsp. boiled apple cider

2 and 1/4 cups all-purpose flour (I used unbleached)
2 tsp. baking powder
Scant 3/4 tsp. kosher salt
1 scant pinch ground cinnamon
1 scant pinch ground nutmeg

12 Tbsp. (1 and 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, at soft room temperature
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3 eggs, large
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
2 Tbsp. milk


Ingredients for the glaze:
1 to 1-and-1/4 cups confectioners' sugar
2 to 4 Tbsp. boiled cider (depending on how thick or thin you prefer your glaze to be)

* * * * * 

Mix the sliced apples and the 3 Tbsp. of boiled cider together in a bowl. Set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, kosher salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg.

In the large bowl of your mixer, using the paddle attachment, beat the butter and sugar together on medium speed until fluffy and light. One at a time, beat in the eggs, still on medium speed. Add in the vanilla.

Take the bowl off the mixer. Using a rubber spatula, fold in half the flour mixture.

Set a colander over an empty bowl and dump the apples along with their liquid into it. Let them drain a minute or so.

Add the milk into the cider drippings, then pour this liquid into the batter and stir it in.

Fold the remaining flour into the batter.

Evenly spread half of the batter into the bottom of the prepared springform pan. Use a small offset spatula (ideally), or the back of a spoon, to spread it out.

Scatter all of the apples over the top of the batter (they do not need to be neatly arranged); try to leave just a narrow margin of uncovered batter close to the sides of the pan.

Plop the remaining batter over that and spread it out smoothly.

Bake the cake on the middle rack of your oven for approximately 55 to 60 minutes, or until the cake feels  firm, is golden brown, and apples seem tender. Test it with a toothpick if you like.

Cool the cake in its pan, set on a rack, for 15 minutes before attempting to remove the sides of the pan.

Run a thin metal spatula or knife around the edge before removing the sides. Then, invert the cake quickly and carefully onto a flat plate; lift off the bottom of the pan, peel off the parchment circle if it's stuck to the cake, then quickly reinvert the cake-bottom back onto the cooling rack. Let the unpanned cake cool fully on the rack.

To make the glaze:

With the confectioners' sugar in a medium-small bowl, begin adding in the boiled cider one tablespoon at a time, adding in more and stirring continually until all lumps are gone and the glaze is as thick or thin as you prefer.

Drizzle the glaze over the cooled cake, or serve it warm, drizzled over individual slices.

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