Lemony Blueberry Buckle

Generous with blueberries, this cake is doused with a lemon syrup.

I first baked blueberry buckle when we lived in western Michigan, where blueberries are a significant presence in the local economy. With such berried abundance, I could afford to over-stuff cakes with what many of us believe are the best blueberries to be found anywhere in the world.

Our dear house rabbit Chloe loved blueberries and we dutifully purchased them year-round. The ones from South America were not up to par. Florida’s were OK, but mostly a herald that Michigan berries would be along in a few months.

This summer, we were able to get our hands on about 30 pounds of Michigan blueberries, thanks to a Michigan native-turned-Iowan who ships them in from his kinfolk. We stocked up. Baking a blueberry buckle was an ode to one of several places I call home.

While my go-to recipe has always been from King Arthur (with trusty and reliable results), I stumbled on this version at David Lebovitz’s blog. (The original source is the cookbook Rustic Fruit Desserts.)

This is for those moments when you want to gild the lily. When a buttery cake abundant with fruit and topped with streusel isn’t enough. There should be lots of lemon zest in the batter and you must liberally douse the cake with a warm lemon syrup.

And if you do all these things, you will be glad you did. I baked this cake at least five times this summer—yesterday most recently.

Something else I like about this cake is the soft layer of warmth from nutmeg. There’s just enough to fill in the blanks without overpowering.

I admit to my own lily-gilding by adding chopped pecans to the streusel. Pecans go well with berries and butter and lemons. Pecans are optional, but do not use walnuts for they are too strong.

You can bake this using frozen berries—just keep them in the freezer until ready to fold in the batter, or else thawed berries will get drippy and stain the cake.

Happy baking!

 

Blueberry Buckle

Adapted from Rustic Fruit Desserts by Cory Schreiber and Julie Richardson
and from David Lebovitz

Note: I’ve played around with this recipe a bit, adjusting type and amounts of sugar. I found the cake did not need the full one cup of sugar and can be reduced by one-third. On occasion, I used half organic granulated sugar and half organic coconut sugar. I also adapted this recipe for a fresh peach cake, minus lemon syrup, here.

Streusel Topping
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, cold
1/2 cup organic granulated sugar
1/3 cup flour
1/3 cup pecans, chopped (optional)
1 teaspoon cinnamon

Batter
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
2/3 to 1 cup sugar
zest from 2 lemons (save the lemons for the syrup below)
1 1/2 cups+2 tablespoons white spelt flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg, freshly ground if you can
2 large eggs, room temperature
1/2 cup buttermilk, room temperature
2 to 3 cups blueberries, fresh or frozen

Lemon Syrup
1/3 cup organic granulated sugar
Juice from 2 lemons, about 6 tablespoons

Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees. Butter and flour a 9-inch square cake pan.

Prepare streusel. Place all ingredients in a small food processor and pulse until the butter is in small pieces and the ingredients are evenly distributed. Remove and put in the refrigerator to stay cold. 

Prepare the cake. With an electric mixer, cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating after each addition.

Combine dry ingredients in a separate bowl. Add half the flour mixture to the batter and beat gently. Then add half the buttermilk and beat gently. Repeat with remaining flour and buttermilk.

Pour batter into the prepared cake pan. Sprinkle the streusel evenly on top. Place in oven and bake for about 45 minutes, until it is nicely browned on top and springs back when you touch it.

Shortly before the cake is done, prepare the lemon syrup. Put sugar and juice in a small, heavy saucepan and cook on medium high heat until the liquid thickens a bit. Set aside.

Remove cake from oven and spoon over the warm lemon syrup.

Asparagus and Mushroom Bread Pudding

Asparagus and Mushroom Bread Pudding from Deborah Madison

My husband is generally pleased with whatever I prepare and so any kind of extreme response is unusual. This Asparagus and Mushroom Bread Pudding, however, elicited a strongly positive review.  Something on the order of “the best thing you’ve ever made.”

How can you go wrong with fresh local asparagus, mushrooms, chunks of bread and cheese?

I know the rule is never try out a new recipe on your dinner guests, but part of the fun in trying new recipes is sharing them with others.

As I planned for two visitors last week, I thumbed through one of my Deborah Madison cookbooks looking for her wild mushroom tart. Turns out I was in the wrong cookbook (has that ever happened to you?) but spied this bread pudding. I had fresh asparagus, some wonderful sourdough bread from New Pioneer Food Co-op and the decision was made.

For those who like texture, this bread pudding gets a bit crunchy and chewy around the top, but the insides are nice and creamy.

The original recipe calls for chanterelle or morel mushrooms, but I did not have access to either (though morel season is getting started here in Iowa). Morels are my favorite, but those sweet little things are so precious that I would not use them in a bread pudding where I fear they would get lost. These organic button mushrooms were just fine.

I used fresh marjoram, but you also can substitute tarragon, but don’t use both. These herbs have  pronounced and distinct flavors and would not work together. Marjoram isn’t something I use often, but after making this dish, I went out and added a plant to my herb garden. So there it will be amidst the oregano, thyme and four varieties of mint.

At this time of year, there is no shortage of good asparagus recipes and here’s one to add to your list. Do give it a try. Perhaps your loved ones will say it’s the best ever, too.

Asparagus and Mushroom Bread Pudding

Adapted from Local Flavors by Deborah Madison

3 cloves of garlic (Deborah calls for green garlic, but it’s too early in the season here)
3 c. milk
1 (1 lb) loaf sourdough bread (Deborah calls for a white bread but I really liked the sourdough flavor)
1-2 lbs. asparagus, peeled if it’s thick
 salt and freshly ground pepper
3 T. unsalted butter
1 large shallot, finely diced
1/2 to 1 pound mushrooms (the recipe calls for chanterelle or morel, but I used white button)
4 large eggs
1/3 c. chopped parsley
3 T. chopped marjoram (or you can use tarragon)
2 c. Gruyere cheese, grated

Preheat to 350 F. Lightly butter or oil a 9 x 13 inch baking dish. Add the garlic to the milk and bring to a boil. Turn off the heat and set aside to let the garlic steep.

Unless your bread is stale, you will want to let it dry a bit. Slice the bread and put it on a baking sheet until it gets a little golden but not hard. Break it into chunks, put it in a large shallow baking dish, and strain the milk over it. Occasionally turn the bread so that it soaks up as much of the milk as possible.

Slice the asparagus on the diagonal about 1/3 inch thick. Fill a skillet with water and, when it boils, add salt to taste and then asparagus. Simmer until bright green and partially tender, about 3 minutes. Drain, then rinse with cold water to stop the cooking.

Melt half the butter in a medium skillet. Add the shallot, cook for 1 minute, then add the mushrooms. Cook over high heat until the mushrooms turn brown in places and release their liquids. Season with salt and pepper and set aside.

Break the eggs into a large bowl and beat until smooth. Add the marjoram and parsley, 1 t. salt, and plenty of pepper. By now the bread should have soaked up most of the milk. Add the bread and any milk that is left to the bowl, along with the asparagus and mushrooms plus any juices, and two thirds of the cheese. Toss well. I found that it was easier to use my hands to toss everything around.

Pour all of this mixture into the prepared baking dish. Dot with the remaining butter. Scatter the remaining cheese over the top and bake until puffy and golden, about 45 minutes. Let cool for a few minutes, and then serve.

Cherry Pistachio Slice and Bake Cookies (Gluten Free) for #Baketogether

Cherry Pistachio Slice and Bake Cookies

I’m a bit late in posting this recipe for the December #Baketogether, but that’s how it has been lately in my neck of the woods. When I read Abby’s December recipe for Spicy Ginger Slice and Bake Cookies, my thoughts immediately came up with dried cherries and pistachios.

That’s because of a food memory that won’t go away. Years ago, I tasted a cherry pistachio cake while on a restaurant review. The bistro I visited was a shiny hopeful spot in a Michigan lake shore town that was climbing back from hard times. The bundt cake, with its drizzle of tartly sweet cherry sauce, was amazing. The restaurant has closed and the town still struggles, but that cake has not been forgotten. I probably should try to make one.

In addition to using dried cherries and roasted pistachios, I adapted Abby’s recipe by using a gluten-free flour. I’m not gluten-intolerant per se, but I do like baking with almond flour. I happened on this almond flour blend from Gluten Free Mama and decided to give it a try. It yielded a nicely crisp and slightly sandy textured cookie that my husband and I liked a lot.

Cherry Pistachio Slice and Bake Cookies

adapted from Abby Dodge

2 1/4 cups (10 1/8 ounces) all-purpose flour (I used an almond meal blend from Gluten Free Mama)

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon table salt

12 tablespoons (6 ounces) unsalted butter, softened

1 cup (7 ounces) raw cane sugar

1 large egg, at room temperature

1/2 cup finely chopped dried cherries
1/2 cup chopped roasted pistachios
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon almond extract


Whisk flour, baking powder and salt in a separate bowl until well blended. In a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the butter and sugar until smooth and creamy, about three minutes. Add the egg, chopped dried cherries, chopped pistachios, and vanilla and almond extracts, then beat on medium about one minute. Add the flour mixture and beat on low speed until the dough begins to form moist clumps.

Dump the dough onto a large piece of plastic wrap. Using the plastic as a guide, gently knead into a smooth dough. Shape into a 14-inch-long log, square or round, and wrap well in the plastic. Refrigerate until chilled and very firm, about 4 hours.

For baking, position an oven rack in the center of the oven, and preheat oven to 350°F. Depending on how many cookies you are baking, line or two baking sheets with parchment paper.

Using a thin-bladed sharp knife, cut the dough into slices between 1/8 and 1/4 inch thick. Arrange the slices about one inch apart on the prepared sheets. (If your cookies look uneven, reshape their sides with your hands. Press cookies lightly with the bottom of a glass to create smooth out the surface.)

Bake one sheet at a time until the tops look dry and the edges are golden brown, about 11 to 13 minutes. Move the sheet to a cooling rack and let the cookies sit for five minutes and then transfer them to a cooling rack and cool completely. Repeat with the remaining dough using cookie sheets that are completely cold.

TWD From Baking with Julia: Hungarian Shortbread with Cherry Preserves

Hungarian Shortbread from the book Baking with Julia

A few years ago, one of my husband’s many cousins — this one on his mother’s side of the family — discovered Great Grandfather’s naturalization papers in an attic trunk. The paper suggested their lineage was Hungarian — not the Slovak they’d always believed.

This caused some vexation over which side to choose.

“We don’t know it’s accurate,” my husband said of the artifact. “People who came through Ellis Island had all kinds of crazy things written on their papers.”

Indeed. We’re pretty sure my husband’s paternal great-grandfather’s Italian surname was considerably longer when he arrived at Ellis Island.

My mother-in-law, for one, does not accept the Hungarian designation. She was told her grandfather was Slovak and that’s how it will remain.

As for this Hungarian Shortbread, well, I suppose it could be Slovak. It doesn’t matter.

All that matters is that butter, sugar and flour bake up into something good, and if you spread a little jam between the layers, so much the better.

This layered shortbread is a recipe from the pastry chef Gayle Gand which appears in Baking with Julia. The recipe directs you to handle the often sticky shortbread dough by freezing it first. Freeze it, then grate it into the pan. Brilliant.

I’ve used this technique to grate butter into flour for making biscuits and pie crusts, but would never have thought to try it here.

This is a flexible recipe that can accommodate a baker’s busy schedule.

Being in somewhat of a hurry (and also being short on butter), I made one quarter of the recipe. The ingredients are easily adjusted into fourths. I used white whole wheat flour, which made me feel healthier, and half raw cane sugar, which contributed a richer flavor.

It’s worth mentioning that I accidentally melted the butter instead of softening it. It wasn’t a problem, especially as the dough was going to be frozen.

Sadly, I did not get to prepare the rhubarb jam called for in the original recipe. Instead, I used a jar of commercially prepared tart cherry preserves, which were a good foil for the sweet dough.

Instead of baking in a sheet pan, I used my mini muffin tin. I put a layer of grated dough in each section, then spooned a small amount of preserves before sprinkling on the final layer of shortbread dough.

Into the oven and out in short order.

Today’s Hungarian Shortbread recipe is being hosted by Lynette of One Small Kitchen and by Cher at The Not So Exciting Adventures of a Dabbler. Visit their blogs to get the recipe. And while you’re at it, take a look at other Tuesdays with Dorie bloggers.

Recipe for Almond Angel Food Cake with Blackberry Curd for #BakeTogether

Almond  Angel Food Cake with Blackberry Curd

April has been a busy month. I started a new job after more than a year of the housewife life. I enjoyed my little break but it was time to get back into the working world.

It’s a writing post in the fundraising world, something I can feel good about every day. What I did not anticipate was the actual adjustment the job would require. Deciding who would get up first (I do, at 5:30 am, which is drastic to friends who know me well), making sure the rabbit’s morning routine is disrupted as little as possible (he has adjusted beautifully), remembering to pack a lunch.

Where, when and how to fit in exercise (right now it’s after work). And how to sit down to a healthy supper before 8 pm. I haven’t yet figured that out.

I’m trying to carve a sweet and balanced life for my family.  I’ve slowed a bit in posting here, but hope to resume a more regular schedule once I’ve figured out a new rhythm.

Coincidentally, April is the one year anniversary for Dust with Flour. Thank you, dear readers, for visiting and leaving such kind comments along the way. I’d wanted to start a blog for many years but the workaday life was a hurdle. I was definitely baking, but it didn’t get beyond that.

TWD: Lemon Loaf Cake from Baking with Julia

Lemon Loaf Cake with Three-Citrus Curd

While I derive a certain thrill from tackling complicated dishes, I never tire of simple recipes that deliver rewards in flavor and reliability.

Meet my new low maintenance friend, this Lemon Loaf Cake from Baking with Julia.

This citrusy loaf bears all the traits we love about pound cake — a fine, even crumb surrounded by a sturdy, tender crust. What I really appreciate is that this impressive richness must’ve been designed with busy cooks in mind.

For one thing, you can mix this beauty in one bowl. No need for a stand mixer. I used a whisk and switched to a spatula at the very end.

Curd made with lemon, lime and blood orange.

Meyer lemon, Persian lime, and Moro orange zests.

Not only will you dirty fewer dishes, but you don’t have to plan too far in advance. For instance, there’s no need to set the butter out to soften. You melt it and then let it cool, which doesn’t take very long at all. The melted butter is added as a final step — which differs from many traditional cake recipes in which softened butter is creamed with either sugar or eggs as a first step.

That one little difference makes me happy. I cannot count the times I’ve started to bake a cake only to realize the butter is still very, very cold.

I followed the recipe as written, except I used the zest from three fruits — Meyer lemon, Persian lime, and Moro orange. While the cake was in the oven, I juiced the fruit and made a lemon, lime and orange curd in the microwave using the super easy recipe Lemon Curd for the Easily Distracted.

And there you have it. A simple but elegant pound cake made with a minimum of fuss.

Today’s Lemon Loaf Cake is being hosted by Truc at Treats and Michelle of The Beauty of Life. Visit their blogs to get the recipe. While you’re at it, visit the sites of other Tuesdays with Dorie bloggers.
 

Pizza Rustica with Cheese and Pesto for Tuesdays with Dorie

Pizza Rustica filled with ricotta, mozzarella and pesto

For years I put off making Pizza Rustica, avoiding what I thought was a high maintenance ordeal. I’m not sure where I got that idea because this was one of the easiet pies I’ve ever made, savory or sweet.

I know you’re thinking this doesn’t look like pizza, but this deep-dish, lattice-topped pie is Neapolitan in origin. The fillings might include all cheese, or a combination of meats, or vegetables such as spinach and chard. For my vegetarian household, I omitted the recipe’s proscuitto, and added more mozzarella. I also spread a layer of spinach-basil pesto between the filling.

The pastry crust is pasta frolla — an Italian tradition that calls for flour, butter, sugar and egg. It was a joy to work with — yes, I meant to use that word. Not touchy and overly sensitive. Amiable.

While you might think a savory filling would not work with this slightly sweet crust, trust me, the combination is very tasty. And I think the time is right for such a flavor contrast, what with the popularity of sweet-salty partnerships cropping up in the blogosphere and elsewhere.

I will definitely make this recipe again, experimenting with fillings. I can’t wait to use the pasta frolla in a pie of summer fruit.

This Baking with Julia recipe is from pastry chef and author Nick Malgieri. The recipe is hosted by Emily of Capital Region Dining and Raelynn of The Place They Call Home so go on over there and see how to make your own. Click right here to see the works of 300-some participating Tuesdays with Dorie bakers.

Savory Cheesecake with Chèvre and Gremolata for #baketogether

Savory Cheesecake with Chève and Gremolata

When an idea won’t go away, it’s time to preheat the oven. This Savory Cheesecake with Chévre and Gremolata is a recipe I could not get out of my head.

A ripple of gremolata (lemon, parsley, garlic) runs through the lemony filling, making a fine choice for first course or as a party appetizer.

A ripple runs through it: preserved lemon, sautéed garlic, parsley, and capers.

It’s my second cheesecake for Abby Dodge’s February #baketogether, the first being sweet, with pumpkin and blackberry flavors.

As I considered ways to adapt Abby’s original recipe, I wanted to use ingredients that I keep on hand so the recipe would become one that I could turn to without much effort. I kept thinking of that jar of preserved Meyer lemon and its lively citrus flavor and how nicely it would complement the tangy goat cheese.

And I thought of parsley for color and flavor. If we don’t have parsley on hand, things get ugly. It’s the primary component of a happy and healthy house rabbit’s diet. We go through a lot of parsley here.

Pizza from Scratch: Cornmeal Crust

Cornmeal Crust Pizza

For more than a decade, on most Friday evenings, we ordered pizza from a restaurant down the street. Nearly always the same thing: Mushrooms, garlic and a lighter serving of cheese. There was only one crust — thin and chewy — and it was made on site.

The pizza joint was in a building about the size of a postage stamp with an even smaller parking lot. By the time we moved this past winter, it had risen to a grand, two-story affair with a bar, a more extensive menu and an upstairs section where musicians sometimes played.

At some point during those years, the owner recognized us by the order. “Is this for M—?,” he’d ask after I made my request. “OK, 25 minutes.”