April 2017: Elvis' Favorite Pound Cake
One of my favorite things about working at the nursery school was that there were always snacks. From the day of my interview, I noticed that the office always had something for munching, whether it was a humble plate of carrot sticks and hummus, or, more likely, a pile of homemade cookies or lemon bars or brownies. The first year I worked there, one of the teachers was training at night to become a pastry chef, and she would come in with all of her practice bakes - eclairs and macaroons and fudgy cakes. I was twenty five, had a metabolism like a garbage disposal, and was in heaven. Extra cupcakes from a kid's birthday snack? I'll eat two. Fried chicken grilled cheese sandwich from the new place across the street for lunch? Why not? There was sometimes a joke about when this metabolism would disappear for me - by 28? by 32? I paid the joke no mind, happy to be of good health and self-love and endless cheeseburgers.
Food is complicated for so many people, in so many ways. I've come to respect it as one of the whack-a-mole vices that can spring up in a person's life, trading places with money or romance or alcohol. (I once heard a woman describe her problems as always being a man, a muffin or a Mastercard - which, while heteronormative, I still find funny.) And so, as I entered my thirties, I ate the same way and began to notice jeans ripping (twice) or sweaters becoming snug, swim suits that seem like a joke and not a purchase from H&M the summer I was twenty eight. It bothered me in the back of my mind, something to be a little bit of aware of, until a doctor's appointment this winter. My blood pressure was high, and the doctor took it once more at the end of my appointment, at which point it was even higher.
She gave me a terse smile. "Let's go back to my office and talk about diet and exercise."
I was diagnosed with high blood pressure and told to embrace a low sodium diet, decrease my fatty foods, and exercise three to four times a week. That night I whined to Emily that it wasn't fair because my favorite food is salted butter. And I considered our local YMCA not my gym but my monthly charitable contribution to an excellent community center. Nothing felt quite as adulthood 2.0 as this news. But here we were.
Cooking a low sodium diet thus far has meant that I make dinner and eat it begrudgingly, telling Emily that it will taste so good with salt. I can tell how wonderful this stew or this chicken or this lasagna would be with a few generous cracks of sea salt. The good news, of course, was that after a month of dragging my butt to the gym ("I can't even picture you on a treadmill," one friend laughed recently) and avoiding sodium and taking my blood pressure twice a day, it's gone down and I am back in the range of a normal 34 year old. With the caveat that this lifestyle change, however much I resist it, should continue.
But all is not lost. While I have forgone soy sauce and bought new running sneakers, I still reserve the right to eat whatever I want a few times a month. So it was that a few weeks ago, when friends upstate gave us a dozen fresh eggs from their chickens, I wondered what I could bake that used an abundance of eggs. The answer? Elvis' Favorite Pound Cake, a buttery, moist vehicle for fresh whipped cream and berry sauce, with a caramelized cake crust that's heavenly. I first had this at a friend's party last summer, where she described the fussy process (flour sifted three times; seven eggs; batter beaten an extra five minutes) while the results were definitely worth it. I could re-name this High Blood Pressure cake and still be in love with it. I've been dreaming of it ever since, and wondering when another excuse to make it will come up again. Fingers crossed that warmer weather hurries up and brings us berry season, because if I make strawberry sauce then of course I have to make a pound cake.
xoxo,
c
Elvis' Favorite Pound Cake
from epicurious.com
Ingredients
2 sticks unsalted butter, softened, plus some for buttering pan [and if you bake with salted butter like I do, more power to you! I can never taste the difference]
3 cups sifted cake flour [Okay, I actually splurged and bought cake flour for this one, because it's all cake with no frosting or layers to hide behind. In a pinch, you can make cake flour with flour and cornstarch.] [I don't have a sifter, so I sifted it into a fine mesh sieve over a bowl.]
3/4 tp. salt
3 cups sugar
7 large eggs at room temp for 30 minutes
2 tp. vanilla
1 cup heavy cream
a 10-inch tube pan (4 1/2 inches deep, no removable bottom) or a 10 inch bundt pan (3 1/4 inches deep)
Butter and flour the pan, gently knocking the excess flour out. Sift flour and salt into a bowl. Then sift once more. In another bowl, beat together butter and sugar on medium speed until light and fluffy, for about 5 minutes (stand mixer lovers, this recipe is for you) or 6-8 minutes with a hand mixer. Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition, then beat in vanilla. [Years of trying to pick egg shells out of my beautiful batter has taught me to crack the egg in a smaller dish then pour it in.] Reduce speed to low and add half of the flour, then the cream, then the second half of the flour, scraping down the bowl after each addition. Scrape down once more and beat for 5 minutes at medium high, until satiny.
Spoon batter carefully into the pan and tap against counter top to eliminate air bubbles. Place pan in (cold) oven and turn oven to 350 degrees. (I think this is where the awesome caramelized crust comes from). Bake until golden, one hour to one hour and 15 minutes, or until a cake tester (or if you're me, a butter knife) inserted comes out with a few crumbs only. Cool for 30 minutes, then run a knife around the edges of the pan before flipping onto rack to cool completely. Serve with berry sauce, jam, whipped cream, fresh fruit, or whatever your butter loving heart desires.
PS - I'm taking a Tiny Letter break in May, but will return in June with more! xo