I sometimes think that people have a misunderstanding as to how professional chefs and cooks work. Yes, there are visionaries out there: there are cooks who come up with something that is so startling, so new, that you wonder how the HECK that happened? Well, word gets out, and before you know it, everyone is doing it. Does anyone remember the heyday of soup dumplings? Or, how about your first taste of basil pesto? And then, when someone, during the winter, came up with walnut/sage pesto? What about butter poached lobster with vanilla? One cook does it, then everyone does it. Everyone does it a little bit differently, but everyone does it.
Cooks "appropriate" from each other all the time. That's the way this field works. If I go to someone's house, or to a restaurant, and they make something I really like, I want to make it. I don't want to have to wait until I am back at the restaurant to taste it again. We're all like that.
Ok, several years ago, Guy and I were in a restaurant in San Francisco, one of our favorites: Woodward's Garden," owned by Margie and Dana, two of the nicest people you will ever meet. Margie runs the front, Dana is the executive chef. Go on the weekend where she is also in front of the stove. You will meet this GORGEOUS Brunnhilde like lady, who cooks in a skirt (brave woman), has legs you would die for, and puts out some of the best food you can imagine - with a smile. And, she does savory and pastry. She learned pastry. When the restaurant opened, it was a weak point. Now, we leave room for dessert. Seasonal fruit, basic cooking (pies, cakes, cobblers , that kind of thing), are what come out.
Well, one year there was blood orange cake on the menu. I expected something along the lines of an upside down cake, and was very pleasantly surprised. It was amazing. They served it with a compote of different citrus, with a simple sugar syrup binding the "supremes." (I won't go into that here: supremes are when you cut the segments out of a citrus fruit and leave the skin behind. Not me , babe. The only supremes I want in the kitchen are Diana, Cindy and Mary talking about how you can't hurry love. Annalena does NOT supreme). When I told Margie how much I loved the cake she smiled and said "talk to me later." And I did. They had found the recipe in a cookbook by an Oakland chef, who I have written about before, and who is one of those rareties: he's a great chef who is VERY RUDE. Last time I wrote about him, I received stinging emails for the inaccuracy of some of my facts. I could not apologize, because he has one of those email boxes that does not let you put an answer in: it's send but not receive. HARUMPH.
Oh well, his recipes are grand. Some are grandiose. But there is no question about it: this is my favorite cake. BUt like I say, not for everyone's taste. There is a decided, bitter edge to it. And because of all the fruit juice in it, the outside is very crusty, and a bit hard to cut into for smaller pieces. Deal with it. If you feel that strongly about it, make a syrup and soften it. But try it first.
It's a blood orange cake, like I say. These incredibly beautiful fruits make a brief appearance in winter and early spring, and then they're gone. So buy some, make it while you can, and let me know.
One thing: most cake recipes can be made as several, smaller cakes. Not this one. It seems the carmelization of the outside, from the juice, just becomes overwhelming in "baby cakes" or individual portions. So, stick to the large one.
One last comment here. I am going to give you the timing for the cake as in the recipe. It always takes me longer. Proceed with care.
You need a nine inch pan, like a tube ban, or a spring form, something that will make the cake EASY to take out. Butter it REALLY well and flour it (I usually skip this step with cakes, i.e, the flouring. But not here). And preheat your oven, to 350
Here's the fun part for me. Cut off the ends of two blood oranges and then cut them into segments - six or eight of them. Now - ready - put them into a food processor and puree them to a pulp. Go for longer than you think. You will want about a cup and a half (one of my problems is I always use more). So, you have pits, pulp, juice and skin here. The skin and pits are adding a bitter element. Put that stuff aside. (incidentally, if you have less than a cup and a half, don't worry. Don't increase it, though).
Now, cream two sticks of softened, unsalted butter with 2 cups of sugar. You want to go until it's almost white - about five minutes. Now add the yolks of 2 large eggs, and mix that in (this is a very yellow orange cake). You should stop and push the batter down at some point, to make sure that everything is incorporated). Now add the orange puree and mix it in further. You will get something that looks almost like a cartoon batter, with little specks of orange and whatnot throughout the butter mass.
Lower the speed on your mixer and add a heaping 2 cups of flour, with 2 teaspoons of baking powder, and a half teaspoon of salt. Just combine this. Optionally, you can add a half cup of chopped walnuts. I never do.
This is a thick, heavy batter, and you will despair of it rising. Fear not. If your baking powder is fresh, it will rise just fine. Spoon it into your prepared baking pan, and bake for 45 minutes. OF course, like I said, check. Use the "straw test" here, by inserting it into the middle of the cake to check for doneness.
Okay, now we have a bit of a controversy. The original recipe suggests turning the cake out immediately. DONT If you do, you have lovely pieces of cake for a trifle. What I would suggest is that you IMMEDIATELY run a knife around the perimeter of the cake, because you have a very thick caramel there from the fruit sugars, and if you don't, you will NEVER get this cake out (trust me on this). Then, after fifteen minutes or so, do it again. Then, when the cake is just warm, turn it out. (you have much more success if you use a springform here).
Like I say, this cake is not for everyone. I like it just plain, but people seem to like it more with something sweet, like fruit salad, or vanilla ice cream, or whipped cream next to it. As you will. If you are lucky enough to be in a place where you have both blood oranges and strawberries in season at the same time, sugared strawberries would be my choice.
Normally, I would be telling you something like "oh, you can substitute regular oranges, or tangerines here." Well, ya can't. I have found that they just don't have the flavor profile needed to make the cake interesting. So, stick to what's in season, make it now, while you can, and who knows? Maybe it will become your favorite cake, or maybe you'll just add another interesting cake to your repertoire.
Let Annalena know.
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