Fredelle and Nina's Poppy Seed Cake

If you're looking for something to win your honey's heart on Valentine's Day, do consider this moist, delicious and oft-requested poppy seed cake.  But you need to comfortable enough with your beloved to engage in a flossing duet, as this cake is so packed with poppy seeds as to make that task de rigueur. (My friend Allen said he counted and found 11,234 poppy seeds in the tiny slice he enjoyed. Not sure how many yards of floss he required.)

This recipe is not from a vintage hand-written card in my collection.  I got it from Joyce Maynard in the 1990s in exchange for signing up for her newsletter or buying one of her books -- the details escape me. And, as there often is, there's a story with the cake. The exact details also escape me, but I think she originally got the recipe from a friend (Nina), made a few changes (adding sour cream and maple syrup) and then made it numerous times for her mother (Fredelle) and family friends while caring for Fredelle during her last weeks and days.

To begin the cake, bring to the boil one cup of poppy seeds and one cup of whole milk.  Take it off the fire, and let the seeds absorb the milk while you prepare the batter.

During the penultimate step of the batter, add the seeds (and whatever milk has not been absorbed). 

This is one of those cakes that require the separation of yolks and whites -- kind of a pain as it involves using an extra bowl to beat the whites, but the technique does lighten the cake enough to make it worthwhile.  I always add some cream of tartar to the whites to ensure they are not overbeaten (and therefore too dry). Fold the whites in, gently, using a spatula.

Spoon or pour the batter into a bundt pan which you've coated with baking spray or greased and floured.

When done, place the pan on a rack for about ten minutes before flipping it over to cool.

Voila!  

Sometimes the cake releases perfectly from the pan (as above).  If it doesn't (as below), don't worry.  

Simply -- and carefully -- remove the cake stuck to the pan and get it back to where it once belonged (can you tell  I'm watching a Beatles special?)

The repaired cake, made a few weeks ago for the DD's birthday, below. At her request, I punched the cake with a lemon glaze (lemon juice and sugar cooked to a syrup).

And now, without further ado, the recipe.  I followed it exactly, but only used a tablespoon each of sour cream and maple syrup.

Fearless Baking (and Living)

The best baking advice is often the best life advice:  Plunge ahead, do not overthink and jump off the cliff with joy (even if your eyes are squeezed shut).

Just as things can go wrong in life, baking is filled with its own landmines.

For example, do you know how many ways you can screw up a simple cake? 

It might not rise properly, the center might sink, the sides might collapse, the texture may be too tough or tacky.  It might also be crumbly, or too dry, or have tunnel-like holes or streaks of uneven color or its surface may be peaked or cracked.  The causes?  Oh, the baking powder was old or the butter was too soft (or not soft enough), the sugar was too course, the batter was over-mixed (or under-mixed), the oven was too hot (or too cold.) or the batter did not contain enough fat (or too much fat.) 

These are just a few pitfalls, all beautifully articulated in Great Cakes by Carole Walter, a lovely book that Rochelle, mother of my dear friend Jay, send me as a gift last week.  

Although I've created many a cake wreck and I'm grateful for Ms. Walter's trouble-shooting advice, I tend to not intellectualize baking.  If I thought of everything that could go wrong, I'd never turn on the oven.

And I learned another lesson in fearless baking last week when I saw a pie-making video featuring writer Joyce Maynard.   Instead of the beautiful and well behaved pie dough I expected (Joyce has been making pies for years), I was shocked to see a crust that was well, shaggy, and that frankly looked much worse than mine.  But where I saw imperfection, Joyce saw "future flakiness."  And she confidently put the whole thing together in a few minutes and you know it was going to be delicious.

It was 29 years ago today that DH and I jumped off the cliff with joy (and eyes squeezed shut) as we wed after knowing each other only a few months. And despite everything that *could* have gone wrong in marriage (but didn't), we're still holding hands.