{"id":1320,"date":"2008-02-12T02:44:00","date_gmt":"2008-02-12T02:44:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/elitemporaryblog.wordpress.com\/2008\/02\/12\/like-a-lullaby"},"modified":"2008-02-12T02:44:00","modified_gmt":"2008-02-12T02:44:00","slug":"like-a-lullaby","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/orangette.net\/2008\/02\/like-a-lullaby\/","title":{"rendered":"Like a lullaby"},"content":{"rendered":"
For almost a year now, Brandon and I have performed a particular ritual at the start of each new season. It\u2019s going to make some of you want to roll your eyes and gag – and really, be my guest; I gag a little just typing this – but I want to tell you about it anyway, because it\u2019s kind of dreamy. You might even want to join in. Basically, the ritual goes like this: one night, when the season is just beginning, we climb into bed, prop ourselves up on pillows, and I read to him from Edna Lewis\u2019s The Taste of Country Cooking<\/span><\/a>.<\/p>\n Now, I know what you\u2019re thinking: You read aloud to him<\/span>? From a cookbook? Oh, <\/span>PLEASE<\/span>. But before you lean back in your chair and aim that letter opener at your eye, I hope you\u2019ll hear me out. There\u2019s been a lot of talk about Edna Lewis<\/a> lately – the second anniversary of her death is this week, and Gourmet<\/span><\/a> made her the centerpiece of their January issue – and rightfully so. The granddaughter of a freed slave, Miss Lewis grew up in a small farming community in Virginia and went on to become what some have called the South\u2019s answer to Julia Child. The lady was a national treasure. The Taste of Country Cooking<\/span>, her second book, was published in 1976, wrapped a yellow and brown cover with an endearing shot of Miss Lewis on the front, standing in a field of sunflowers, wearing a pinky-white dress and gazing into a bowl of tomatoes. Organized by season, the book is filled with reminiscences on her childhood and the food her family grew, cooked, and ate. In the summer, Brandon and I read from the summer section; in the winter, we read from the winter one. The same goes for spring and fall. It\u2019s like a lullaby in printed form. I don\u2019t know about you, but I think someone would have to be pretty heartless to not feel pleasantly dopey after a passage like this:<\/p>\n One usually thinks of lamb as a spring dish but no one had the heart to kill a lamb. The lambs were sold at the proper time and the sheep would be culled – some sold and a few butchered. My mother would usually buy the head and the forequarter of the mutton, which she cooked by braising or boiling and served with the first asparagus that appeared in along the fence row, grown from seed the birds dropped. There were the unforgettable English peas, first-of-the-season garden crop cooked and served in heavy cream along with saut\u00e9ed first-of-the-season chicken. As the new calves came, we would have an abundance of milk and butter, as well as buttermilk, rich with flecks of butter. Rich milk was used in the making of gravies, blanc mange, custards, creamed minced ham, buttermilk biscuits, and batter breads, as well as sour-milk pancakes. And we would gather wild honey from the hollow of oak trees to go with the hot biscuits and pick wild strawberries to go with the heavy cream. <\/span>(Spring, p. 4-5)<\/span><\/p>\n Of course, I should also warn you: bring some cookies or cake or something into bed with you. You\u2019re going to need them. That, and some cheese, and olives, and salami, and last night\u2019s leftover spaghetti, and a pint of ice cream, and the salted peanuts in that baggie on the counter, and a beer.<\/p>\n Busy-day cake was never iced, it was always cut into squares and served warm, often with fresh fruit or berries left over from canning. The delicious flavor of fresh-cooked fruit with the plain cake was just to our taste and it was also refreshing with newly churned, chilled buttermilk or cold morning\u2019s milk. <\/span>(p. 86)<\/span><\/p>\n I must have read, and reread, those words at least a half dozen times. But for reasons I cannot fathom, it wasn\u2019t until yesterday that I finally made the cake. And all I can say about that is: DO NOT MAKE THE SAME MISTAKE. Hop to it.<\/p>\n Edna Lewis\u2019s Busy-Day Cake<\/span> For this cake, Miss Lewis called for 4 teaspoons of a particular single-acting<\/a> baking powder called Royal Baking Powder. It is no longer being made, so I used my standard baking powder, Rumford<\/a> brand, which is double-acting<\/a>. (Most commercial baking powders today are.) Because I was using the double-acting type, I should have used less than Miss Lewis indicated, but, uh, I didn\u2019t think to. (See here<\/a> for information about ingredient substitutions like these.) As a result, my cake collapsed(!) in the center – as cakes with too much leavening can do – and had an especially coarse texture. I happen to love it, though, so to tell you the truth, next time, I might not change a thing. I don\u2019t mind a cake with a crater in the middle; it<\/span>\u2019<\/span>s rustic<\/span>! But if you want the cake as Miss Lewis intended it, decrease the amount of baking powder to about 2 \u00bd teaspoons. Or make your own homemade single-acting baking powder. It\u2019s very simple: mix \/ sift together 2 parts cream of tartar and 1 part baking soda. Ta da<\/span>, it\u2019s ready. You\u2019ll use 4 teaspoons of this mixture, as Miss Lewis calls for. Any extra can be kept for weeks, or even months.<\/p>\n Also, the original version of this recipe calls for the batter to be mixed by hand with a wooden spoon. But since I\u2019m a little lazy, I used my stand mixer. (Come to think of it, I don\u2019t believe I\u2019ve ever creamed butter without a machine. I hope Miss Lewis will forgive me.) You could also use a hand-held mixer, or, if you\u2019re a better woman than I, you could do it by hand. I imagine you might end up with an especially nice texture that way.<\/p>\n 1 stick (8 Tbsp.) unsalted butter, at room temperature Preheat the oven to 375\u00b0F. Grease a 9\u201d springform pan with butter or cooking spray. (Miss Lewis used a 10\u201d x 10\u201d pan, but I don\u2019t have one. A 9\u201d springform pan has a similar capacity.)<\/p>\n In the bowl of a stand mixer, blend the butter and the sugar until light and fluffy. One by one, add the eggs, beating well after each addition. Add the vanilla extract, and beat to blend.<\/p>\n In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt, and nutmeg.<\/p>\n Add about \u00bc of the flour mixture to the butter mixture, and beat on low speed to incorporate. Add 1\/3 of the milk, and beat again. Add the remaining flour mixture in three more doses, alternating each time with a bit of milk, and beating to just combine. Do not overmix. Using a rubber spatula, scrape down the sides of the bowl and stir to incorporate any flour not yet absorbed.<\/p>\n Scrape the batter into the prepared pan, spreading it evenly across the top. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. This cake has a tendency to brown quickly on top, so after about 20 minutes, you might want to peek into the oven and tent the cake with aluminum foil if necessary.<\/p>\n Serve warm.<\/p>\n Note<\/span>: This cake is pretty wonderful plain, although it\u2019s also good with cr\u00e8me fra\u00eeche, and I\u2019ll bet it would be lovely with some warm, crushed berries.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" For almost a year now, Brandon and I have performed a particular ritual at the start of each new season. It\u2019s going to make some of you want to roll your eyes and gag – and really, be my guest; I gag a little just typing this – but I want to tell you about it anyway, because it\u2019s kind of dreamy. You might even want to join in. Basically, the ritual goes like this: one night, when the season is just beginning, we climb into bed, prop ourselves up on pillows, and I read to him from Edna Lewis\u2019s The Taste of Country Cooking. Now, I know what you\u2019re thinking: You read aloud to him? From a cookbook? Oh,…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[1],"tags":[],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n<\/a>
Ever since I got my copy of the book, I\u2019ve had my eye on one recipe in particular. It\u2019s from the summer section, and it\u2019s called \u201cBusy-Day Cake or Sweet Bread.\u201d If that name alone doesn\u2019t win you over, I don\u2019t know what will. Maybe Miss Lewis\u2019s description? Let\u2019s see:<\/p>\n<\/a>
The busy-day cake is exactly what you might imagine, only even better. It\u2019s a simple, quick-to-make white cake composed of the usual suspects: butter, sugar, egg, flour. But it bakes up into something uncommonly fragrant, moist and nubbly-crumbed. When Miss Lewis called it \u201csweet bread,\u201d she was onto something. More than a cake, really, it reminds me of cornbread: dense, chewy, and only moderately sweet; the kind of thing you want to keep nibbling long after you\u2019re full. I baked it yesterday afternoon, just in time to spoil our dinner, and as of this writing – a scant 25 hours later – we\u2019ve already eaten over half of it. Miss Lewis, I think, would be very pleased. I\u2019m usually a chocolate-cake-and-banana-bread kind of girl, but now, I don\u2019t know. I already feel another busy-day cake coming on.<\/p>\n
Adapted from The Taste of Country Cooking<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n
1 1\/3 cups granulated sugar
3 large eggs
2 tsp. vanilla extract
2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
2 \u00bd – 4 tsp. baking powder (see headnote, above)
\u00bc tsp. salt
1 good pinch freshly grated nutmeg, or more
\u00bd cup whole milk, at room temperature<\/p>\n