The national trust cake, a battle that never ends
Yes we're still fighting online about recipe headnotes!
There is a war going on about recipe headnotes (that’s what you’re reading, if you’re reading this). This is a war that has gone on since the dawn of the food blog (and maybe before, but I have no cultural memory of it) and will continue until the internet ends.
There’s certain groups of people who really enjoy writing online, proudly, about how they wish there were not recipe headnotes. There are other people who respond that since most food bloggers are women, you’re just saying to a woman “shut up and cook.” I find this whole conversation fatiguing, myself.
Obviously, as someone who does lengthy personal writing before getting to “the point” of providing a recipe most of you will never make, I think that headnotes are great. Without the great headnotes written by Marcella Hazan, I would not have nearly the since of her as a person, and Italian cooking as its own character as I do. For myself, my writing about myself has always been framed around food, and the recipes themselves “the point” of food writing, have been an occasional afterthought.
I provide recipes that reflect how I am feeling. When I am depressed, I provide none at all, but sometimes I want comfort, and sometimes I want something delightful, and sometimes I feel inspired, I feel bold, I feel confident.
I think what people miss when they dismiss head notes and other “non serious” bits of writing about food is that we do it not just out of some urge to make ourselves seem more important or interesting, but out of a need to define our own eating as something distinctly human.
What is it that makes something alive? Eating? Consuming energy? That’s a real question, because I nearly failed intro bio, but I’m pretty sure that all living things need to eat (“eat”). Okay, let’s not think about funguses, but animals, we can agree, need to eat.
Dogs and cats we know, have preferences, they even enjoy variety. Patsy loves to eat room temperature butter. The other day she tried to immerse herself in my bag of bonito flakes. A bag of a similar size, half-full of old tortilla chips sat open on the counter for a week, and she expressed no interest in them. Patsy is an animal, and a dumb animal at that, but she still has opinions about her food. She expresses her feelings about food by yelling at us, and by biting my ankles. Why would we, theoretically more evolved, have less to say?
Patsy screams if she does not get her wet meat by 6 pm. What would her recipe headnotes look like?
Eating and enjoying food, even communicating preferences about it, is not uniquely human, but writing to share our experience about it is. Remembering a particularly stunning meal, or reflecting shamefully on the Worst Pasta I Ever Made, those are very human things to do. Patsy is not proud when I open her can of meat, and give her half of it. She accepts that it is her due, and she wonders why I did not give it to her before, but she does not think “wow I’m really hot shit,” whereas I made an exceptional challah this weekend, and I am still reflecting on how great I am for having done so.
When I had covid I lost my ability to taste. For a week I gained no pleasure from food, only a sense of disappointment. I was scared. I was terrified that it would last forever. In that week, I was so unsure of how I could endure my life if I had been able to experience the wonder of food, and then had it taken away. So I appreciate headnotes, because I cannot eat everything, and do not wish to, but there is still some pleasure to be gained from another’s joy, something for me to get from their description of that animal experience, shared in such a human way.
Here’s a simple recipe for a cake that I love. I’ve made it over and over. It’s an easy cake, and it makes me happy to eat it. The use of a huge amount of lemon zest in the cake, but no lemon juice, gives it a lovely floral aspect. It’s really good. I didn’t make the glaze this time, because we were out of powdered sugar, and you know what? It’s still a good cake. It’s better with the glaze, but it’s still good.
Lemon and Poppyseed Cake (National Trust version)
From Sweet by Helen Goh and Ottolenghi
For the cake:
3 large eggs
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons (225 grams) granulated sugar
1/2 cup (120 grams) sour cream (I used creme fraiche, because Noah made some and we didn’t have sour cream)
5 tablespoons (70 grams) unsalted butter, cubed, plus extra for greasing
1 tablespoon poppy seeds
Finely grated zest of 3 lemons (1 tablespoon)
1 1/3 cups (170 grams) all-purpose flour
1 1/4 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
For the glaze:
3/4 cup (90 grams) confectioners' sugar, sifted
2 tablespoons lemon juice
Heat the oven to 325° F (160° C). Grease the loaf pan(s) and line with parchment paper, then set aside.
Place the eggs and granulated sugar in the bowl of an electric mixer with the whisk attachment in place and whisk on medium-high speed for about 2 minutes, until pale and frothy. Add the sour cream and continue to beat for about 2 minutes, until the mixture has combined.
In the meantime, melt the butter in a small saucepan over low heat, stir in the poppy seeds and lemon zest, and set aside.
Sift the flour, baking powder, and salt together into a bowl, then use a rubber spatula to fold this into the egg mixture before folding in the butter, poppy seeds, and zest.
Spoon the mixture into the loaf pan(s) so that it rises three-quarters of the way up the sides. Place on a baking sheet and bake for 55 to 65 minutes, or until a skewer inserted into the center comes out clean. Do not open the oven door to check the cake during the first 45 minutes of baking.
To make the glaze, whisk the confectioners' sugar with the lemon juice in a bowl.
Pour the glaze over the top of the cake as soon as it comes out of the oven, spreading it over the top so that it sinks in and creates a nice coating. Set aside to cool for 30 minutes before removing from the pan. Leave to come to room temperature before serving.
I hope that you are well. Let me know if you make the cake, although I expect that you will not. That isn’t really why you subscribe to this, is it?