I'm Back. And I Brought Cake.

Sorry about that silence.

All of my normal activities ceased while my body developed some severe with-child symptoms. I had a good old-fashioned pregnancy scare brought on by some seriously out of whack hormones (now back in balance). While I waited for definitive test results two things happened: my brain immediately split into five sections, each one tasked with anticipating an outcome to this situation and then determining the absolute best way of dealing with it. In this state of evolved multi-tasking my brains figured out where a changing table would fit in our flat and how much of a tax credit I'd be entitled to. I quickly amassed a wealth of knowledge that I will now forget for an undefined period of time.

The other thing that happened was that I got bored with food. I was feeling a bit sick and pretty tired and more than a little freaked out and cooking suddenly dropped off my daily activities. I ate a lot of crackers and fruit and yogurt. Nothing to write about, even if I could have persuaded one of my five brains to stop thinking about knitting tiny mittens and beauty regimes that would allow me to be *very* sexy while knocked-up long enough to complete a sentence. 

J spent this time eating every last piece of stale candy left over from Halloween and pouring over our cycling maps, imagining all of the trips we would now never be able to take.

Domestic Bliss.

Now that my body has decided to behave again and I can again party with my best friend, Beer, it's also time to make some magic in the kitchen. I had a very small but pretty luxe dinner party this week where I tried out three new recipes on the guests at my mercy. And miraculously, they were all really good. I've had some less-than-stellar results from recipes recently, but my faith in the printed word has been deliciously restored. It created an awkward situation for me during dinner because I wanted to continuously exclaim how delightfully wonderful I found the food, but actually voicing that would be pretty intolerable. Instead I said things like, "this is good, but you know, it was so easy" or "I really like this chef, I think their food is great".

I wasn't lying. It wasn't my skills that made the meal. These were solid, simple recipes and their creators get all the credit. The ease of the recipes was the only way I managed a four-course dinner on a weeknight. Honestly, it was doable. Especially if, like me, you don't have kids. (ha!).

I'm going to share these recipes over the next little while, and the first one up is this almond plum cake. As August unravels, I want cakes with dark purple fruit pressed or folded into their batters. A honey cake with figs, a blackberry clafouti, a blueberry cobbler. They both make use of the season's dark and sweet bounty, while easing the palate back into food for chillier days.

My step-great-grandmother used to make a plum cake similar to this when I was growing up. I remember eating slices of it all of the time, sitting in her condo, looking out over the Ottawa canal. It was lovely, moist and sticky with fruit, sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon. It's the food I most closely associate with her. Slowly the cake stopped being made. As she grew into her nineties , her vision and hearing became less reliable. She became a bit frail. But despite these changes, her mind never left her. Everything was still intact up there.

One day, knowing that our time wouldn't last forever, I asked Granny for her plum cake recipe.

She just gave me a look. "I've never baked a cake like that."

"Yes you did! You used to bake it all of the time!"

"I have no memory of that at all."

"oh. okay."

It would have been difficult for me to win an argument like that, especially since her stubbornness, already robust, only distilled with age. Instead, I accepted that I had unearthed Granny's only forgotten memory and that I had to come up with a recipe of my own.

This isn't it. But it's not that far off, either.

It has all of the important parts, a soft, spiced cake with tart plums baked to the point of collapse. It also has ground almonds because I had some in my pantry. That's the main point of departure from my memory of Granny's cake. I found the recipe, by Ursula Ferrigno, online and you can get it here.

Basically, you make a simple cake batter, sprinkle it with ground almonds, place halved plums on top and then pour a mixture of butter, sugar, cinnamon and eggs over everything. The final step seemed a little strange to me, but everything just turned into one delicious layer of dense almondy sponge. Perfect for a dinner on a gloomy, chilly day when our thoughts started to turn to the darkness of winter and the necessity of wearing tights again. Cake, wine, laughter and gossip acting as our insulation from those long months.

When I get home tonight, I will cut myself a slice in the perfect silence that comes from not reproducing. I might make a cup of tea. I will then eat the cake and sip the tea and maybe have a little conversation with Granny. A small chat to let her know what I'm up to these days. And she will be vivid to me then, as vivid as each bite of that spicy plum cake.

Comments

[MBT Shoes]

It's so nice to have you do all of the research for us. It makes our decision making so much easier!! Thanks.

Kool. When are you free? I'll do a 45 hr visit next time, maybe 48...

[Katie]

You've already had soup, M. Two bowls of it. I think that's enough for you for now.

Oh, who am I kidding? When you finally come to visit for more than 45 minutes I'll prepare you a grand feast. We will eat so much we won't be able to write proposals.

[M]

M would like to come to 'a very small but pretty luxe dinner party' please. A two hour commute would be nothing if it's anything on that sausage soup!
xx

[Dad]

you have brought tears to my eyes again! xxoo