The Wednesday Chef

Deborah Madison's Poppyseed Cake

I am stuck. Completely and utterly stuck. I've had these cake photos sitting in this post form for two weeks now and every day I open it up to start writing and every day I close it again because I don't know what on earth to say.

How about this: This cake, it is good. So good! So moist. A little crunchy, too. Not too sweet. Perfect.

My friend Sylee made it for me a while ago, except, because she's Indian-American, she used white poppy seeds instead of black ones. We ate slices of it at her place after a lovely lunch of fava beans and crisped prosciutto on wholesome bread, along with a mug of milky tea. It was such a nice Friday afternoon.

The original recipe uses regular poppy seeds, all chalky and blue. I love the way they pop in the creamy-white batter. I like their slightly stony flavor and the way they taste embedded in the sour tang of the buttermilk batter, the faint whisp of vanilla floating behind them like a nimbus cloud. I like how the cake is almost juicy with moisture, how the top ripples and folds once it's baked. I like the way it makes the house smell.

And that's about it.

If you could peek into my brain right now, I think you'd have a start. There's a crazy ticker tape parade of stuff going on in there at the moment: finishtaxes findacrib buydiapers whenisthisbabycoming owmypelvis shouldibeworried organicchangingpadversusregularchangingpad whocaresjustbuyaflipping changingpad sheets breastpump owmypelvis whenisthisbabycoming taxes crap taxes yikes whatarewegoingtocallhim bureaucraticpaperwork spineproblems willineedanepidural owmypelvisow and so on.

I've been so lucky so far - the baby is healthy and well, I am doing fine, there is absolutely nothing to worry about. And yet. As the gestation comes to an end, I find myself on the verge of anxious tears a lot. Some of it has to do with the annoying pelvic pain, some of it is because I miss my husband, who is working feverishly before he can take time off and come home before the baby arrives, some of it is because - utterly against my nature - I don't really have anything set yet. I know a baby doesn't need much, I know that we don't need to blow our paychecks at the baby store (trust me, we're not the type), but still, for my own peace of mind, I need to start dealing with the fact that we are still missing the most basic basics: enough clothes for the first few weeks, a changing pad, for cripes' sake, even just a few folded cotton cloths or towels.

Until I do that stuff, I'm afraid that ticker-tape parade of to-do lists and low-grade anxiety isn't going to go anywhere and I will lie awake at night as the rain hits the windows, feeling him bump and wiggle inside me, and worry. Which is silly, I know.

But really, that shouldn't stop you from making this cake. It's such a good cake. Especially when sliced thickly and served with milky tea in the afternoon. It's comforting and plain, but not boring and the crunch of the poppy seeds is a treat. In fact, when it cools off this weekend, I might even try to distract myself by baking it again so I can eat slices of it for comfort in the afternoons to come, soothing myself like I'll find myself surely soothing this baby just as soon as he gets here, right into my arms.

And who knows, maybe one day the smell of this cake baking will be something that our boy associates with home.

Deborah Madison's Poppy Seed Cake
From Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone
Makes one 9-inch round cake

1 cup poppy seeds
1/2 cup milk, heated, but not boiling
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
3/8 teaspoon salt
3 eggs, separated
1/2 cup (4 ounces or 113 grams) unsalted butter
1 cup granulated sugar
2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 cup buttermilk

1. In a small mixing bowl, combine the poppy seeds and the hot milk. Set aside until needed. Heat the oven to 375ᵒF. Butter and flour a 9-inch spring form pan. Set aside.

2. In a medium-sized mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt.

3. Place the egg whites in the bowl of an electric stand mixer, fitted with the whisk attachment. Whisk on medium-high until firm but moist peaks form. Transfer the egg whites to a small mixing bowl. Using the same bowl as for the egg whites, but now using the paddle attachment, beat the butter and sugar on medium-high speed until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add the vanilla, then beat in the egg yolks, adding one at a time and beating well after each addition. Scrape down the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula, as needed.

4. Drain the milk from the poppy seeds, discarding the milk. Add the buttermilk and the drained poppy seeds to the batter. Beat until well combined, then again scrape down the sides of the bowl with the rubber spatula. Add the flour mixture to the batter, in thirds. Again scrape the bowl with the rubber spatula, making sure it’s all well mixed. Fold in about a quarter of the beaten egg whites with the spatula, then fold in the rest, mixing gently until just combined.

5. Transfer the batter into the prepared cake pan, smoothing the top with the rubber spatula. Bake until golden and firm, with the sides just beginning to pull away from the pan, about 40-50 minutes. Remove from the oven and place on a wire rack. Carefully run a sharp, thin knife along the sides of the cake, just against the pan, then gently remove the rim and allow the cake to cool to room temperature before slicing.

Wednesday Morning Link Love

Two of my best friends were here this past weekend from New York and they've just left and I'm feeling bereft. They'd never been to Berlin before, so we spent the days zipping around the city and eating white asparagus. I'm not really that mobile anymore, so I had to keep taking breaks to keep my pelvis from breaking in half (that's kind of what it feels like when I walk, anyways), but I loved every minute.

This interview with Gabrielle Hamilton about the memoir-writing process is interesting to read, but the best thing is buried in the last sentence: She's writing a cookbook!

Max is the vinaigrette master in our house, never failing to make the most perfectly balanced dressing without a single measuring spoon (left to my own devices, I always, always overdo it on the vinegar), so I'm going to be pushing him to try this concoction as soon as possible.

This article on how plastic packing contaminates our food is unnerving, to say the least.

Did you know McCormick's "pure" vanilla extract contains...corn syrup? Depressing.

How to grow your own pea shoots (and then put them in your scrambled eggs).

If I start to write about what the books I read as a child meant to me, I get all weepy, I really do. My childhood books were everything to me, my whole world. Whenever I'm reminded of a particularly good one, the way I felt when I first discovered it comes flooding right back. I so hope our boy is a reader - I can't wait to rediscover those lost worlds with him. If you need inspiration for children's books, Jenny Rosenstrach and Andy Ward, the bloggers behind Dinner: A Love Story, have just written a book about 121 of the greatest kids' books of all time and are giving it away for free with an order of Jenny Rosenstrach's new book, Dinner: A Love Story. But you've got to hurry - this offer is only good until Thursday at midnight. More info here!

Catherine Newman's Donut Cake

This all started when I read Joanna's post about a book she'd read that she'd loved during her pregnancy (this one). In that post, she asked her readers if they had any other books to recommend for pregnant ladies, which was like Christmas morning for me and soon I was clicking and bookmarking away, leading me further and further into an Internet wormhole. I came up for air at Catherine Newman's blog, the author of Waiting for Birdy (ordered, shipped), and soon found myself reading about a cake that tastes like doughnuts, which is a riff on Edna Lewis' Busy-Day Cake, which I'd only wanted to make since, oh, forever and so I decided to take that serendipitous find as a sign from the gods that I should waste not a single moment longer before making it.

So I made it. And, lo, it made my house smell of doughnuts, nutmeggy and sweet.

(Let's not discuss the fact that I was far more inclined to make something called Donut Cake than I was to make something called Busy-Day Cake. I am, in culinary terms at least, apparently something of a magpie.)

It really is the loveliest thing. Buttermilk makes it tender and gives it the faintest, barest tang. A few spoonfuls of cornmeal give it a little crunch. And the intersection of vanilla and nutmeg make your house smell like a old-fashioned doughnut shop, MINUS the stench of boiling oil and the slickness of greasy fingers. It's intensely wholesome and lovely, this cake. If it was a person, it'd have perfectly creamy skin and a natural glow all the time, no makeup or raw spinach smoothies required.

It's the archetypal afternoon cake or breakfast cake, to be dunked in hot chocolate or coffee, and I'd gladly serve it to children, too. You could, I suppose, gussy it up with whipped cream and fruit. But I like how stark and plain it is all by itself. In fact, in the terms of auld, I'd say this is one for the lamination files.

Which reminds me that I actually meant to tell you guys about a different cake entirely before I got completely sidetracked by this one. But that will have to wait until next week.

Catherine Newman's Donut Cake
Makes one 9-inch cake
Catherine says that the cake is destined to sink once it cools, but I had no such problem.

1 stick butter, room temperature
1 1/3 cups sugar
3 large eggs, room temperature
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour, sifted
2 tablespoons cornmeal
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1/2 cup buttermilk, room temperature

1. Heat the oven to 375°F. Butter and flour a 9-inch springform pan, and set it aside.

2. Beat the butter and sugar together until light and fluffy, about two minutes. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating to incorporate after each addition, then add in the vanilla. Scrape down sides of bowl with a rubber spatula. Set aside.

3. Whisk together the flour, cornmeal, salt, baking powder, and nutmeg. Add the flour mixture to the batter in 3 parts, alternating with the buttermilk, starting and ending with flour. Make sure each addition is incorporated before adding the next, but don't over-beat it at the end. Spread the batter in the prepared pan and smooth the top.

4. Bake until the top is puffed and golden brown and a tester inserted in the center comes out clean, 30 to 35 minutes. Cool on a rack before serving warm or room temperature.

Diane Kochilas' Tomato, Oregano and Feta Risotto

I've been feeling a bit like a wrung-out dishrag lately, creatively speaking, I mean. A reader very kindly pointed out the other day that you all would be a lot happier if I posted more often, to which I could only bleat "I'm so sorry, I know!" at the screen and sink my head in defeat. I mean, I'm the first to feel bereft when my favorite blogs go silent for more than a few days.

I guess I poured so much energy and heart into finishing the book that now that it's over, instead of feeling full of inspiration and moxie, I'm feeling a little empty when it comes to cooking and writing about it. For a few weeks after I finished work on the manuscript (and the final testing of the recipes), I could not turn on the stove to save my life. I just couldn't. I couldn't stand the sight of the measuring cups, the mixing bowls, the sink waiting to be filled with dirty dishes. I had to stop seeing it as the final frontier, the final battle zone between me and the finished manuscript before I could enter it again with hunger and a lust for cooking.

Add that to the fact that I am now single-digit weeks (eeep!) away from giving birth and you'll understand why sometimes I sit here in front of the computer trying to think of things to tell you, but coming up empty. I mean, I can spend hours thinking about organic baby mattresses, what on earth - WHAT - we should name our baby and, uh, trying to wrap my head around labor, but then dinnertime rolls around and I'm eating a handful of sliced cucumber and a peanut butter sandwich. You know?

But enough about that.

Remember Elaine Louie's wonderful The Temporary Vegetarian column in the New York Times? The source of such delicious things as Heather Carlucci-Rodriguez's Chana Punjabi, Aytekin Yar's Zucchini Pancakes and Julie Sahni's Green Beans Bihari? I loved that column so much. (It no longer exists, but you can buy the book it was turned into right here.) Slowly but surely, I'm hoping to cook my way through most of the recipes she published (Cabbage Strudel, anyone? I'm still kicking myself for having lived mere minutes away from the strudel shop on Queens Boulevard for almost three years and never having made it there.).

The recipe with which Louie retired the column was from Diane Kochilas, Greek food writer and consulting chef at Pylos: a Greek riff on the classic Italian risotto, using ouzo instead of white wine and feta cheese instead of Parmesan and butter. I made it for dinner last night and the one thing I kept thinking as I ate it was, forgive my ineloquence, woah.

The risotto looks like it will just be a sweet little tomato-ey thing, flecked with some well-meaning oregano, but it turns out to be a flavor bomb, an umami explosion, if you will, almost too intense to actually eat. The convergence of the feta and the anise liqueur and the fresh tomato and the lemon zest is sort of epic, really. I practically had to wipe my brow as I worked my way through the bowl. (And this was without adding any salt besides what was already in the broth, people.)

I left out the garlic that was in the original recipe, because I think garlic in risotto should be against the law, and I used Pernod instead of ouzo because that's what I had in the house and if I made this again, I would use water instead of broth, probably, and also a bit less feta, because I actually don't really like to feel like I'm fighting my way through dinner, even if it does taste very good. But eating it in the soft dusk light that came in from the balcony and being reminded of our trip to Greece last September was lovely, really, and just the kind of thing that makes me want to cook again and again and again.

Diane Kochilas' Tomato, Oregano and Feta Risotto
Serves 4
Note: To grate a tomato, halve crosswise and grate the cut side with a coarse grater over a lipped cutting board or bowl. Grate as close to the skin as possible, then discard the skin.

3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 medium onion, finely chopped
4 to 5 cups vegetable broth
1 cup Carnaroli or Arborio rice
1/3 cup Pernod
1 1/3 cups grated ripe tomato (about 3 or 4 large plum tomatoes)
2/3 cup crumbled feta
2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh oregano leaves
Finely grated zest of a lemon
Salt and freshly ground black pepper, optional

1. In a large, deep skillet over medium-low heat, heat olive oil until shimmering. Add onion and stir until soft, about 6 minutes. Place broth in a small saucepan and bring to a simmer.

2. Raise heat to medium, and add rice to skillet. Stir until well-coated with olive oil and starting to soften slightly, 2-3 minutes. Add 1 cup of the simmering broth. Keep stirring gently until the rice absorbs all the broth. Add Pernod and stir until absorbed.

3. Add grated tomato and stir gently until the mixture is dense. Add remaining broth, 1 cup at a time, stirring until each addition is absorbed, until the rice is creamy but al dente, 25 to 30 minutes.

4. Add feta and stir until melted and risotto is creamy and thick. Stir in oregano and lemon zest, and season to taste, if needed, with salt and pepper. Remove from heat and serve immediately.

Friday Morning Link Love

Here in Berlin, today and Monday are holidays, so the city gets all quiet and serene. Shops close, streets empty and peacefulness descends onto our red-roofed buildings. It's lovely. On Sunday, I'll be having a bit of that magnificent, sweet, yeasted rooster for breakfast, moist and tender and studded with marzipan eggs. We'll be over at my friend Joanie's that morning, though "friend" is hardly a good word for everything that this woman is to me - but you'll read more about her in the book when the time comes. (The book that now has a cover!) What you need to know for now is that Joanie is the queen, the empress, of sweet yeasted doughs scented with cinnamon, lemon peel and fairy dust. What starts out as a pallid lump in a ceramic mixing bowl gets transformed into sweet little rabbits, great roosters, feathered and wattled, and more. This particular rooster was last year's Easter breakfast and while it almost pained me to watch her slice into it to serve us all, it was even more delicious than it was beautiful, if you can imagine that.

Elsewhere:

This corn bread (not cornbread, mind you) is haunting my nights. It's on the to-do list for the weekend.

The cutest grocery tote I've seen in a long time.

I had lunch at ABC Kitchen in New York with Deb last week and this deceptively simple appetizer served in a pretty bowl (no spoon, though) stayed in my thoughts all week: Roasted Beets with Yogurt.

Are you brave enough to eat wildflowers?

I love reading about what other people eat, even more than I love looking into people's shopping baskets at the grocery store, so I got a kick out of Phoebe Cates's diet.

I've always wanted to make sushi at home, but I never actually do it. These rice balls (a rounder version of onigiri) somehow seem more approachable. Also, mouthwatering.

I've become anemic during pregnancy and a month of iron supplements hasn't made much of a difference. My doctor says to eat more millet and this spiced millet breakfast bowl sounds like the best way to start.

Yet another reason I can't wait to be in L.A. for the book tour this fall. (Yes, Los Angeles is on the list!)

Have any of you read Bringing Up Bébé (UK folks: French Children Don't Throw Food)? I had no intention to, but then I was given a copy by my publisher and my best friend couldn't stop raving about it and I had nothing else to do on the airplane back home (besides bemoan the hideousness that are well-fittting compression stockings), so I read the whole thing in one swoop...and liked it. Can we discuss?

Happy Easter, happy Passover, happy weekend, folks!