Next to yogurt cakes, I’m a big fan of any cakes that use olive oil and show it with pride right in the recipe name. Despite the kind of citrus used in this recipe, the cake actually has more of a lemony flavour than grapefruit, as my brother described it; he was my first taster and loves this cake.
The original recipe, which I found on Smitten Kitchen, uses the grapefruit segments in the cake. I used a small amount of the grapefruit segments, cut up, into some of the batter and baked a test batch in a little cupcake liner. While I loved the extra fruit in the cake it left a bitter aftertaste that I wasn’t fond of, which I did not get when I ate the grapefruit raw. I’ve read about citrus becoming bitter after baking, even with copious amounts of sugar, but had never experienced it in my own baking until then. Oh well, it did look pretty.
I’ve wanted to make a yogurt cake for absolute ages, and when I had the opportunity to make it I turned it into something else that could only be reminiscent of a soufflé.
This is a recipe I’ve been promising for the better part of this month, so I’m happy to be finally sharing it with you.
It all started when I said that I wanted to make a yogurt cake with some fresh blueberries we had. It quickly turned into an idea of a lemon yogurt blueberry cake. It was on a whim but as I ate a bowl of lemon yogurt, I got that baking itch and I acted on it. Going my way again of feeling out what felt right, at that crucial moment when I would add flour I thought that the batter already looked so lovely, what if I just baked it?
As I took photos and followed along with my artist’s temperament that day, I virtually jotted down recipe notes in my shorthand: simplified instructions, details minimal since it’s for me. Most of my recipes are written like that, before I flesh it out. It’s quite a contrast to how I write recipes for this site. This was just one of those times I decide to write it down as I go along, so that I can recreate it again when I want to without trying to remember what I did.
This soufflé, really a flourless cake, is a wonderful thing. Puffed up and beautifully domed, shortly after being pulled out of the oven it sinks into itself. A golden brown exterior makes a striking and elegant contrast to the sunny yellow inside. The lemon flavour itself is delicate; it’s light and satisfying, a lovely way to end a meal.
I mentally wailed, but like Julia, did my best to keep a stiff upper lip about it – this cake was not gingerbread. Yesterday I had made the coconut flour gingerbread cake that I posted Wednesday with just coconut flour, making it nut-free. (Recipe originally used a combination of almond flour and coconut flour.) For some reason, the spices did not come across as strongly in the cake as when made with almond flour. Light and fluffy as chiffon, it had become pumpkin spice cake.
My personal misgivings were quickly extinguished, though, after my brother’s O.T. (Occupational Therapist) had tasted it, whom I had given a slice to. She’s from Australia and loves pumpkin spice, but she explained that it is hard to find there since Thanksgiving isn’t celebrated and pumpkin is used as a savoury food, not sweet, and pumpkin spice is usually imported when it appears at the cafes.
Practically speaking, this is a kissing cousin to the coconut flour gingerbread cake. This could be another gingerbread cake but I haven’t troubled myself yet to up the spices to make it gingerbread-y. Though only briefly musing in my last post, I am now seriously wondering about the role of pumpkin spice in pumpkin pie: is it really those spices I’m tasting and not so much the pumpkin when I’ve had the ocassion of eating a commercial or traditional (condensed milk and sugar) pumpkin pie? I’ll stop – this isn’t about pie, it’s about cake.