CARROT APPLE PECAN BREAKFAST CAKE

First we eat, then we do everything else.

- M.F. K. Fisher

What else could she have been talking about but breakfast? M.F.K. (whose name, because profanity always makes me giggle a bit, gives me great pleasure.....so sorry, Mary Frances) Fisher's words were ringing in my ears the other day as I was out for my ritual morning walk* and dreamed up the idea for this hearty breakfast cake. A cake, but a good one, one you can feel good about eating for the first meal of the day. Lots of protein, ground almonds, yogurt, that sort of thing. It shouldn't feel too healthy though, there should be a certain amount of sin built in, just enough to promise fun for the day to come, so some sweet-and-ever-so-slightly-salty toasted pecans and a hit of real sugar in there, too. Gluten-free? Why not. Texture? Grated carrot and apple, for some extra sweetness, as well. Shape? Definitely a Bundt**. Let's do this breakfast thing.

( *The reason for getting out of bed at daybreak and doing that whole morning ritual walk thing in the first place? Two adorable, wet-nosed reasons. See below.

( **I've got Bundts on the brain lately, it seems)

Also, I've got to mention it just one more time....nominations for the 2015 Saveur Blog Awards close tonight, March 13th at midnight EST. Please consider nominating this site for this round of awards (just highlight/copy sweetlaurel.blogspot.com, then click over here to cast your nomination in Best New Voice/Best Writing/Best Photography, it couldn't be easier!), it would mean the world to me even to be a finalist in the best awards in food blogging. 

I promise to keep the recipes for delicious things like Carrot Apple Breakfast Cake coming for a long time to come! Thanks for reading, all. On to the cake!!

Carrot Apple Breakfast Cake with Toasted Pecan Glaze*

( *Gluten-free!)

1 tablespoon butter

1/4 cup tapioca starch, plus about 1 tablespoon extra for dusting the pan

1 cup old fashioned rolled oats

1/2 cup brown rice flour

1/2 cup almond meal

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 tablespoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

3/4 cup light brown sugar

1/3 cup vegetable oil

1 egg

1/2 cup Greek yogurt + 1/4 cup milk (you could also substitute 3/4 buttermilk for this mixture)

1/2 cup grated carrot

1/2 cup grated apple

1 1/2 cups pecan pieces, divided

3/4 cup confectioner's sugar

1 tablespoon water (or more)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Generously butter a cake pan (I used a 6-cup Bundt pan), lightly dust with tapioca starch, then tap off the excess. While oven is heating up, toast pecans on a baking sheet for a few minutes, until warmed and just beginning to brown. Remove from heat and set aside in a bowl to cool (nuts burn easily; if you leave them on the hot baking sheet they may darken too much. Ask me how I know this. Go on, ask me).


Place oats, brown rice flour, almond meal, cinnamon, baking powder, baking soda and salt in a large mixing bowl, stir to combine thoroughly. In another bowl, whisk together sugar and oil, then add egg and beat until well combined. Add yogurt + milk mixture (or buttermilk, if subsituting) and beat until smooth.

Add liquid mixture to the bowl of dry ingredients, stir until everything is blended. Add carrot, apple, and 3/4 cup of pecans (reserving the rest), mix until just blended. Pout batter into prepared cake pan and place in preheated oven. Bake for 50-60 minutes, or until a knife inserted into the thickest part can be removed cleanly. Remove and let cool. Turn cake out onto a plate.

Place 1/2 cup toasted pecans (this should leave you with 1/4 cup of pecans remaining) in a food processor with confectioner's sugar and water, blend into a smooth paste (you may need to sprinkle in additional amounts of water to keep blending, do this sparingly). The ideal, pourable consistency for this mixture is something like honey, it should be a runny enough glaze to spread down the sides of the cake when you pour it on. Add the rest of the pecan pieces, toss to coat, then pour the mixture evenly over top of cake. Serve once glaze has set up a bit, after twenty minutes or so.

Add a cup of coffee to this morning cake ritual and experience paradise. Trust me. :)

ON NECESSITIES, CANDIED VIOLETS, AND THE 2015 SAVEUR FOOD BLOG AWARDS

So, I've been thinking a lot lately on the question of necessity.

Really thinking. I mean, I've pondered and tapped thoughtfully on both my forehead and my keyboard and hummed, typed, erased, re-typed (more on the 'why' of that, later). What do we humans really need? The question has a special relevance for someone who loves to create in the kitchen, I think, because really, you know..........why? Do we need to create special meals? Do we really need dessert, a course on the menu which has always been about pleasure and never about sustenance? Could we not just jam raw nutrients directly into our mouths? Sure, we could do that. But I'd argue that we need beautiful cooking just as urgently as we need books, art, poetry and the music of Tom Waits and Leonard Cohen in our lives. Like we need italics in our typing. We just do.

Why am I bringing this up today? The 2015 Saveur Food Blog Award nominations opened up on March 3rd, and I've been thinking about them ever since. I mean, are accolades necessary? We don't need them, I suppose. And yet, we just do. Like the candied violet (and yes, more on the 'how' of that later) on top of a beautiful cake, don't they just they add a shiver of unexpected pleasure here and there? Do I want to win a 2015 Saveur Food Blog Award?

Dear readers, I've gotta admit to you, I very much do.

Do you have thirty seconds to spare? Because that's all the time you'll need to help me out by nominating Sweet Laurel for this award (you don't even need to register to nominate!). Just follow this link and then make your screen look like mine does in the photo above. And thank you! The freshly baked lavender-lemon shortbread cookies are in the mail, I promise. ;)

Why all the thoughtful tapping, typing, erasing, re-typing? Well, I hate to ask. Simple. I don't write to win awards (wouldn't that be a bit like spending years falling in love and getting married just to ultimately get your hands on a blender? A pretty shameful example of totally missing the point along the way), and I don't like to solicit attention unless it's towards a worthy goal. But as a real flesh-and-blood human with a soul and an ego, I'm not going to lie to all of you following along at home......this one matters to me. Saveur is one of the last print publications doing real food journalism, and their sixth annual blog awards are a real-deal Big Event to me. Some of the most well-respected blogs (and favorite daily reads of mine) have been finalists and winners of this same award along the way. I'd be beside myself with happiness and gratitude just to be in their company as a finalist. I'll try not to say too much more on the subject until the results are announced.

As to that nagging question of necessity, there's no real answer, as is true of the best questions in life. There's no question in my mind that we need cooking as a form of self-expression. Likewise, in 2015 there's no question for me that we need food blogs themselves; many of us depend on them even more than cookbooks these days (although of course many of us are still hopelessly addicted to buying cookbooks, as well). But food blogging awards, a necessity? Of course not. They're not the main meal itself, awards are really just the candied violets on top. And that's quite all right with me.

You may remember these particular candied flowers making an appearance in last month's Chocolate-Covered Cherry Cake post, but I thought I just couldn't do these little darlings sufficient justice without a post of their own, so here we go!

Candied Edible Flowers

These make a spectacular topping (almost like edible confetti) for any cake you're particularly proud of, whether it's a show-stopping centerpiece or a pile of darling little cupcakes. Still, don't feel limited to the world of desserts. These little beauties look magically dipped in crystallized fairy dust, and add an otherwordly, 'forest floor' touch to any course on your menu. Try a sprinkling of candied flowers on a mixed green salad, or as an unexpected garnish on a sweet & savory main course like honey-glazed pork tenderloin. Or just try a handful, inserted directly into your mouth! Few things in the culinary world feel stranger and better than eating handfuls of flowers.

Violas*, as shown (make sure they're grown without pesticides, specifically to be eaten)
1 egg white
1/2 teaspoon water
Fine granulated sugar
One small paintbrush (use a brand new synthetic-bristled one for this, you can pick one up at any art or craft supply store for just a few dollars)
Parchment paper

( *Plenty of other flowers, including roses and marigolds, have edible petals that can be candied)

In a small bowl, lightly beat the egg white with the water just until thoroughly combined. The slightly thinner texture created by adding water will make the mixture easier to brush onto the delicate petals.

Leave the stems on your flowers during the sugaring process to use as a handle (they're not edible, so just snip them off once flowers have set). Dip the bristles of your brush in the egg white mixture and gently paint it onto the petals of each flower. Gently. I can't stress that enough. This is an easy task, unless you're impatient or in a hurry, so just, you know......chill. Get into the whole slow, repetitive, satisfyingly crafty nature of completing this task. Just don't rip those petals! 

After you've brushed one flower thoroughly with egg white, hold it over a small plate or saucer and shower it with granulated sugar. Shake off the excess, repeat if necessary until no more sugar will stick. Set flower aside to dry on parchment, repeat with remaining flowers. 

The coating will set on your flowers after a few hours, after which you can gently snip or pinch the stems off and use them to decorate to your heart's content! Your candied blossoms will keep in an airtight container for up to three months, but with all the cupcakes, salads and roasts you'll be decking out in flowers, they're not likely to stick around that long.

SUNDAY, BLOOD ORANGE SUNDAY

Greens. They're what's for dinner. 

Seriously, like every day. Ever since my household joined a local CSA last month, our weekly box has been overflowing with tender baby lettuces, kale, turnip and beet greens, darling baby onions and green garlic, and a whole bunch of other little spring treasures. While I don't think of salad as the only way to use up extra foliage in the kitchen (I have been known to cram greens into just about anything, including chopped fresh herbs in everything from bread to soup, kale in meatballs, and anything leafy into imaginative and highly-subjective 'pesto'), it's certainly a good one. This recipe is particularly great, showcasing not only the tender salad greens that are so prevalent right now, but also another standout of the late winter/early spring season......citrus. Paired with perfectly ripe avocado slices and a handful of crumbly, satisfactorily salty cotija cheese, this humble salad can easily be elevated to entree status.

Citrus Salad with Baby Lettuce, Cotija & Avocado

Makes two servings

3 loosely packed cups of baby greens (or your lettuce of choice)
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon honey
1/4 teaspoon of fresh orange zest (grate from whole blood oranges before slicing)
salt & pepper
1/4 cup chopped scallions
1/2 cup sliced radishes
1/2 ripe avocado, sliced
blood orange slices, peel & pith sliced away
cotija cheese, crumbled

Wash and dry your greens, tear them into bite sized pieces and set aside. 

In a medium sized mixing bowl, whisk together olive oil, lemon juice, honey and orange zest. Add salt & pepper to taste. Place greens in bowl with vinaigrette and toss to cover. Add scallions and radishes to salad and toss gently to combine. 

Divide salad onto two plates, top with sliced avocados and blood oranges. Garnish with crumbled cotija cheese to taste. Enjoy!

IN WHICH I HAVE A DATE (WITH DESTINY)

I'll be the first to admit, I don't always get it right. 

Case in point, there's a forlorn bulb of kohlrabi languishing in my fridge right now, due in large part both to the fact that we recently joined a CSA and also that I have absolutely no idea what to do with kohlrabi*. Life via social media can look tantalizingly crisp and glossy, but it's important to remember that the reality might look more like sweaty pajama bottoms for the third day running, or a nonstop crying jag because I'm almost thirty-four and I'm never gonna figure any of this adulting out or because I just broke that handmade plate** or because taaaaaaaxes, man. Sometimes the onions burn. Sometimes I have to admit my powerlessness over caramelization. Sometimes the best laid plans go awry, sometimes the path the night is taking can only lead away from a homecooked meal and straight to the door of a Szechuan takeout place. Sometimes vegetables wilt unnoticed in the crisper and get furtively thrown away before their time, to be replaced by a fresh infusion of guilt and a new weekly box of produce.

[ *Shortly after writing this, I peeled, cubed and roasted the sucker with some onions and a drizzle of maple butter, snuggled up in the pan next to a whole chicken. Highly recommended. ]

[ **Almost immediately after taking the photographs above, while gingerly hand-washing and whispering to myself don't don't don't break it please, I broke the beautiful handmade blue plate seen here into three brutal pieces. Boom. Done. C'est la vie, c'est la guerre, c'est la frickin' pomme de terre. ]

Just please know that there are times when I'm standing in the kitchen, hair in disarray and a desperately clutched saucepan in hand, thinking I can't, there's no way, I have absolutely no idea what to feed my family. And also know that at this point, that family only consists of two adults and two small dogs (who eat identical bowls of kibble at nearly every meal).

But then. Oh, then. There are those sublime times when I figure out how to make delicious truffles out of juicy dates, tender coconut, rich dark chocolate and flakes of smoky sea salt. These are the times when I feel like I get it very, very right.

I can feed these to my gluten-sensitive friends. I can offer them to my paleo-observant warrior mom. I can & will pop one of these delightful date truffles into my mouth, crackling dark chocolate shell giving way to sticky, chewy date filling made more intriguing by a hint of coconut and light sweetness. And then maybe one more--straight out of the fridge at midnight--to celebrate the fact that I am a mostly-functional adult person who does have a few things figured out, after all.

Chocolate helps. The magical combination of sweet dates, dark chocolate and delicate flakes of smoked sea salt helps even more.

Date Truffles with Coconut and Smoked Sea Salt

Makes about thirty small truffles

1 1/2 cups pitted Medjool dates

1 tablespoon coconut oil

1/4 cup shredded unsweetened coconut, plus more for rolling

3 tablespoons almond meal

2 tablespoons honey (or maple syrup/agave nectar/sweetener of choice, if you'd like to make these vegan)

1/4 teaspoon salt

3 oz. dark chocolate

Optional, but recommended: smoked sea salt, for sprinkling over the truffles. Mine is super-fancy, super-flakey Halen Môn smoked sea salt from Wales, but it's also available from a number of other places.

Place dates & coconut oil in bowl of a food processor, pulse to combine until a rough paste begins to form (it should not be perfectly smooth but instead should have bits of fruit still visible, try to keep the blending to a minimum). Add almond meal, honey and salt, pulse a few more times to combine.

Roll mixture into balls about the size of a quarter (mixture will be sticky; it may help to throw the entire bowl of date filling into the fridge for about thirty minutes prior to rolling), set aside on a sheet of parchment.

In a double boiler over medium heat or in a microwave-proof bowl, gently heat the dark chocolate until just melted, stirring vigorously until smooth. Remove from heat. Drizzle over each ball of date filling, sprinkle with smoked sea salt (if using), and allow to harden until set.

If you're chocolate-averse, these are also amazing simply rolled in shredded coconut, as also shown here. Either way, good for the soul.

EVERYONE SAYS I LOVE YOU......WITH CAKE.

[Originally posted on 2/14/15]

As symbols of romance go, some are unmistakable.

A single chocolate smudge clinging languorously to china. The whisper of a kiss etched in lipstick on the edge of a tipped over glass. An abandoned napkin, hastily swept from a lap, cast aside to lie in a mass of wrinkled linen as the main action switches from the dining room to another room entirely. A wisp of sinuous, bluish-grey smoke trailing from the wick of a just blown out candle.

But a single, chocolate-covered cherry may just be one of the most unmistakable edible symbols of all. In super-sized cake form? It might just turn out to be irresistible.

Romance is a difficult subject for some people, especially in this era of instant dating apps and Fifty Shades of Grey nonsense. I'm always all for romance, though, no matter what form it takes in your world. A meaningful gesture (beyond just clicking 'like' and adding a heart emoticon, please) is the very heart and soul of true romance. Stumped for ideas? There are just so many ways to show love. Give a handwritten note, a handful of picked flowers, or just an extra smattering of 'just because' kisses, just above the neckline. Give a freshly baked cake steaming from the oven, a naughty glance, an arched eyebrow. Give a hand-lettered note, give a smudgy and intense pencil sketch, give a heartsick glance, give a low whistle. Go corny, or be original. Just give your sweetheart something, choose to mark this all-too-often-fumbled-and-abused occasion with something more than digital ephemera.

In other words, you can't text your way out of this one, kids.

Go with a time-honored symbol of St. Valentine's Day, if you want to keep it classic. Give the waxy but heartfelt mixed chocolates in the red satin box, the dusty-sweet astringent 'conversation hearts'....or perhaps, the rich perfection of one syrupy cherry encased in deep dark chocolate. Love them or hate them, the chocolate-covered cherry is here to stay, and can be found absolutely everywhere--from velvet-draped tables in high end food markets to dusty, forgotten gas station shelves full of last minute gifts--in the days surrounding Valentine's Day. Sometimes they're amazing and sometimes they're truly terrible, especially if high fructose corn syrup doesn't fit with your vision of 'romance'.......but this year, why not re-invent the whole concept?

After all, the rich perfection of one syrupy cherry encased in deep dark chocolate is pretty hard to beat. I decided to expand the idea into one large dream of a cake, made of two shapely bundt layers of rich, sweet cherry-laced cake, draped in dark chocolate ganache. One slice of this will erase the memory of every unworthy chocolate-covered cherry you've ever been given in the past, and make you consider starting a new tradition with your sweetheart......romantic baking? ;)

Chocolate Covered Cherry Cake

Makes ever so many more than two servings, so you can just go ahead and keep celebrating Valentine's Day over and over and over again.,...

Although February is a wonderful time for romance, it's not always the best time of year for fresh, juicy summer fruits like cherries and raspberries. I used frozen fruit this time because it's often the best out-of-season option, but if you miraculously happen to find some lovely fresh berries in your local market, I say go for it! Just substitute an equal amount of fresh fruit (be sure to pit the cherries, of course.....pits aren't romantic!).

For the cake:

5 cups flour, plus two extra tablespoons for flouring the pans

6 tsp (1/8 cup) baking powder

1 1/4 teaspoon salt

8 egg whites

3 1/2 sticks room temperature, unsalted butter, plus one extra tablespoon for buttering the pans

4 cups sugar

2 cups pureed raspberries (thawed completely if using frozen)

1 1/2 cups pureed dark sweet cherries (thawed)

3/4 cup milk

2 cups dark sweet cherries, halved

For the ganache:

8 oz dark chocolate, chopped (I used Lindt Dark 70%, this is two bars plus a little extra)

1 cup heavy cream

pinch of salt (1/8 teaspoon)

Preheat oven to 350. Melt one tablespoon of butter and, using a pastry brush, cover the inside of one 12-cup bundt pan and one 6-cup bundt pan. Sprinkle the inside of each pan with a tablespoon of flour, tap and rotate pan until inside is evenly, lightly floured. Combine remaining flour, baking powder and salt in a mixing bowl, set aside.

Place egg whites in bowl of a stand mixer (or in mixing bowl to beat by hand), beat on high until they reach the stiff peak stage. Transfer beaten egg whites to another bowl and wipe out bowl of stand mixer. Cream butter and sugar together in stand mixer (or by hand) on medium until light and fluffy, about two minutes. Reduce speed to low and add fruit purees slowly to avoid splattering. Add milk, mix until smooth. With mixer on low, slowly add flour mixture just until thoroughly combined (do not over-beat). Fold in egg white mixture just until combined.

Divide batter between the two pans. Sprinkle halved cherries over the batter, poking them gently down into the cake and smoothing the top of the batter afterward. Bake at 350 degrees for approximately 60 minutes for the small pan, 75 minutes for the large pan, or until a knife inserted at the center of each cake can be removed cleanly. Let the cakes cool for 15 minutes, then carefully invert onto plates and remove from pans.

Prepare ganache by breaking up chocolate and placing in a heat-proof bowl. Heat the cream just to a boil, then pour over chocolate and let sit for five minutes, undisturbed. Sprinkle salt over ganache, whisk to emulsify all ingredients. The ganache will at first look streaky, then more homogenous, and will eventually thicken into a creamy chocolate glaze that can be poured or spread over a cake. Be sure to taste some off a spoon first. You know, for science.

Once cakes have cooled completely, stack the small one on top of the larger one. Drizzle ganache slowly over cake. Decorating with candied, edible flowers (Gardenista has a great tutorial for sugared violas exactly like the ones I used) or fresh fruit is optional, but looks gorgeous. Pairs well with flickering candles, pearls, half-full crystal glasses of wine, and moodily draped floral arrangements, of course. Here's to romance! <3

KALE ME NOW.

I know, guys. I know. 

Kale recipe posts in January are as inevitable as cherry pie in July or hot apple cider in October. Fresh off the last round of New Year's resolutions (but not so far into the new year that we've all fallen off that wagon and begun eating chocolate by the handful....yet), it seems everyone's eating big bowls of dark leafy greens in between juice cleanses and probiotic shakes, right? Well, this is a kale recipe. And I did warn you it was coming. And I'm a well-known kale enthusiast from way back. 

But this is no mere austere bowl of greens....it's got style. Soul. Swagger. Cojones. Whatever. It's got tender bits of prosciutto, mingling with the brightness of fresh lemon zest and a hint of red pepper. It's got silky shreds of sauteed kale, woven cozily into a bowl of golden pasta, all snuggled under a sprinkling of grated parmesan and a drizzle of olive oil. Seriously, isn't that just about the coziest thing you could imagine right now? Let's make some of this tonight, and let's keep eating it until the weather outside is warm again, shall we? It's one resolution you won't mind keeping.

 Pasta with Kale, Prosciutto, Lemon & Parmesan

Serves 2 generously

6 oz. pasta of choice (in my house, it's Barilla's GF spaghetti)

1/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon of olive oil

3 oz. prosciutto, sliced into roughly 1/2" squares

1 bunch of organic kale, washed, ribs removed & roughly chopped (size of bunch will vary, but you should have at least 3 loosely packed cups of chopped kale)

1 tablespoon shallot, minced

1 garlic clove, minced

2 tablespoons fresh lemon zest

1 teaspoon red pepper flakes

salt, to taste

freshly grated parmesan, to taste

 Fill a large pot with water, add salt generously and bring to a boil. Add pasta and cook until done to your desired degree of firmness. Drain and set aside.

In a skillet over medium high heat, add one tablespoon of olive oil (reserving the rest) and heat until shimmering, then add prosciutto and saute quickly until it just begins to color. Add kale one handful at a time, stirring constantly. The kale will wilt quickly in the heat and make room for the next handful, continue doing this until all the kale is in the skillet. Add minced shallot and garlic and continue to saute, stirring frequently with a wooden spoon. The mixture is done after about five minutes, once the kale has turned dark and tender. Remove from heat and add the lemon zest and red pepper.

Return warm pasta to pot and add kale mixture, tossing to combine thoroughly. Drizzle with remaining olive oil and let sit (cover the pot to keep remaining warmth in) for a few minutes to allow flavors to intermingle. Serve in bowls, showered with freshly grated parmesan, and enjoy!