Tuesday, April 10, 2012

A New Hampshire Easter

Happy belated Easter, friends! I thought I'd share a few treats from my holiday at home.

To start, the Easter Bunny was very generous - again! - this year. I've written before about how I absolutely love the Easter color palette, so resplendent with whites and pastels and soft metallics. This close-up of my Easter basket should convince you, too, to love these spring shades. The candy, of course, is wonderful, sourced from the Midwest's beloved Fannie May chocolatier. (Once my family establishes a food tradition, it's hard to unseat it, even if it's been over 18 years since we lived where FM was readily available. Thank you, Internets!)

Next up was the Easter breakfast. Ina Garten's enthusiastically citrusy lemon cake made a repeat appearance, and I think this was its best year yet! I was nervous to bake it at first, since my parents just installed a new oven; while my mom testified to the oven's capabilities, already producing such classics as a chicken pot pie and from-scratch brownies without a hitch in its week of existence, I was afraid my contribution would go awry. Fortunately, it didn't. Why do I love this cake so?
  • The recipe makes two loaves. So much dessert, indeed! This allows me to bring several breakfasts' worth of cake back to Boston, while leaving my family with the same.
  • It uses the zest of eight lemons. A citrus lover's dream.
  • It has two lemon-sugar glazes! The first is a warm sauce made of heated lemon juice and dissolved granulated sugar; it is poured over the cakes as soon as they are removed from their loaf pans. The sauce sinks into the porous loaves and infuses them with moist, tangy, citrusy joy. Then, once they have cooled, they are coated with the second glaze. This traditional decoration, of much confectioners' sugar mixed in significantly less lemon juice, covers the cakes' surfaces in solid white, almost like fondant. It has a bright, sweet, concentrated lemon flavor.
The overall effect is one of increasing lemon intensity. The base of the cake is light and fluffy, with a definite lemon presence from all that zest - but, it's still comparatively dainty, and perfect for tea. As you move up the cake, you encounter more of the sugared lemon juice; it makes the cake moister, chewier, and stronger. The very top of the cake is thoroughly soaked in the juice, and then crowned with the fondant-esque glaze for the most robust lemon experience yet. I always save the top bites for last, never tiring of their cheerful citrus zing. That flavor conquers anything else near your palate, even a cup of strongly-brewed Royal Blend!

Never one to be still when there is an excuse for extravagant baking, I did not begin and end my Easter exploits with Ina. It was time to work on the Easter dessert...with Joanne.

My family had fallen into a habit of ordering gourmet cakes from California bakeries as our holiday desserts, with Easter being the latest casualty (after Christmas succumbed to this ravishing buche de Noel). My desire to bake, plus a fortuitous outing to Flour's Fort Point location, changed that for 2012. I ate a carrot cake cupcake at that Flour, loved it, and excitedly found the recipe for the equivalent cake in Flour's cookbook. It took hardly any effort to persuade my parents to let Perfect Endings lie, and grant me a mission in its place.
What a mission it was! Carrot cakes are always time-intensive, but Joanne's recipe - like any good kitchen challenge! - let me try and see new things. Here are some observations.
  • The recipe asks for token amounts of spices. I added significantly more of each spice per usual custom, and the cake absorbed them without any trouble. Heck. I could have quadrupled the cinnamon and everything would have still turned out alright! I like a cake that can soak up so much flavor.
  • I used pre-chopped walnuts. Enough said.
  • I left out the raisins (so gross!), and swapped in the equivalent volume of grated carrots. There's no such thing as too many carrots in a carrot cake.
  • You bake the entire cake in one 8" round cake pan. This pan is filled to the brim when you put it in the oven, and looks as though it might spill over while baking its (oddly lengthy) 1 hour and 20 minutes. Fortunately, no spillover occurred - though the final product was also level with the pan's rim.
  • The baked cake is probably the densest dessert I have ever made.
  • You split the cooled cake into two layers. Baked-good surgery, anyone?! It turns out that all you need to perform this invasive procedure are a quality bread knife, a steady hand, and careful rotation of the cake in question.
  • The frosting is a simple mix of cream cheese, butter, and confectioner's sugar. I believe the desired effect is barely-sweetened cream cheese; the ingredients' proportions definitely accomplish this, but I would have preferred a sweeter, more traditional frosting. If I want a cream cheese spread, I'll leave the butter and sugar to the side, and pick up a bagel instead of a cake. (It did taste much better with the cake than by itself, though.)
  • The recipe suggests chilling the frosting for 2-3 hours before spreading it. I found that was entirely too much refrigeration; I had to let the frosting warm up for an hour or so post-chilling before it was comfortably usable.
  • The split and frosted cake ends up looking pretty close to a "normal" two-layer cake. I was pleasantly surprised! (And anyway, two "full" layers of this cake would have been too much, so I'm glad it passed as is.)
Here's a slice of the cake, followed by what was left after Easter dinner.

Like I mentioned above, the cake's density may be its most noteworthy characteristic. So much is crammed in that one (split) layer that what's normally considered a small-ish slice is actually rather filling. The same could be said about its flavors - in a single tiny bite, you can taste the freshness of the carrots, the roastiness of the toasted walnuts, the warmth of the brown sugar, and the depth of the extravagant spices. Those flavors, in all their variety and richness, remind me of the seasons, which may be why carrot cake always seems like a timely dessert. (Of course, we exploit the carrot content for Easter/spring.) The texture stands out, too - it's extremely gooey and moist thanks to canola oil and buttermilk, but still cake-like. My only complaint, or area of potential improvement, is the frosting. I'm glad it'll be easy enough to just add more confectioner's sugar to the mix next time, and maybe a hint of vanilla extract, too. Here's to yet another sweet success courtesy of Flour!

If you want to see the actual recipe, I cannot recommend the Flour cookbook enough.

I hope you enjoyed a similarly delicious and fulfilling Easter! Are there any particular treats you'd rave about?

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