high summer

Summer is here. It took its time.

We are getting rain and wind all the time, which stuns us. We look up and squint and put our noses into the breezes, we extend our palms upwards, cupped, to feel in disbelief  for the wet weight of thunderstorms. It is gloriously green and unusual. And the markets have fruit. Fruit! Not just the nine dollar a pint raspberries but heaps of apricots and cherries. This is a shock, usually the season for those is a blink and a start and is over.

Of course, when one has fruit to use, one must make cake. One must make cake as if it is one's only purpose in life and one must also eat the cake on shaded patios, with the basil and cornflowers blowing softly and the hummingbirds tangling with one another in the trees.

This cake was adapted from the sprouted kitchen's most recent and lovely idea. The novelty of almond flour has yet to escape me as a replacement for grain flours. While the above recipe was put together to make muffins I knew that, too often, muffins sit swathed in parchment, folded into ziplock bags, and left to fur over with mold in despair. There's something unromantic about fishing a slightly gelatinous-topped muffin from a bag and wishing it had retained its former lofty, somewhat crusty and fragrant glory when first turned from a muffin tin.

So, on the other hand, there is tea cake. Read: muffin batter baked in a loaf pan. Tea cake is seductive, it sits low slung and dark in a loaf pan and beckons knives and fingers to shave it down until only crumbs remain. With coffee or after dinner or in the middle of the day in bare feet at the countertop after one has recovered from miles trekked in the mountains and returned home ravenous. (Or maybe this person goes on treks into the mountains with the sole idea of using the alluring tea cake as a magnet for the return trip, imagining bits toasted with sweet cream butter with every step until the car comes back into view. Just maybe.)


Blueberry, Apricot and Almond Teacake

1/2 cup almond meal (pre-ground or make your own using whole raw almonds whizzed in your food processor)
1/2 cup cornmeal
1 cup 50/50 whole wheat-white flour (or any combination of other grain flours)
1/4 cup oats
1 heaping tablespoon hemp seeds
1 rounded teaspoon flaxseeds
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground or grated ginger
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup coconut sugar or other thoughtful sweetener
2 eggs
3 tablespoons coconut or olive oil or butter
1/4 cup plain yogurt

2 tablespoons raw honey

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 cup fresh or frozen blueberries

2 fresh apricots diced 

(*fancy option: crack one of the apricot stones open, fish out the fragrant soft inner kernel, dice up finely and add to the batter. The inner kernel is faintly reticent of roasted almonds and can impart a mysterious herbal note to recipes that call for apricot. Beware however as too many can overpower anything with a fierce bitterness.)

 

 

Preheat the oven to 350. Combine the dry ingredients (including the sugar) and set aside. Combine the remaining ingredients except for the fruit and whisk vigorously to aerate. This batter is somewhat dense and benefits immensely from a good swish about with a whisk before incorporating the dry ingredients. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and fold until about 75% combined, tip in the fruit and finish folding everything together. Use a gentle hand here now that the grains and the eggs are in the same bowl, an overly thorough mixing is grounds for a touch cake. Smooth into a loaf pan which you've buttered and papered and put into the oven for 35-50 minutes. Test with the blade of a knife for doneness. If the knife comes out with more than a crumb or two give it another 5 minutes and check again. Cool thoroughly before slicing: the cornmeal will remain somewhat firm and will crumble if cut before its had a chance to firm up and cool.

On another note the beginning of July marked some beautiful loops come full circle. It's important to have love move through you, the fierce kind, no matter what kind or where it comes from.

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