chocolate-zucchini cake

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I was growing up, my favourite cake was chocolate-zucchini cake.

No matter that I turned up my nose at the zucchini fresh out of the garden that turned up on my dinner plate. 

In fact, I was just saving my zucchini appetite for dessert.

My mom made this cake every year when we were inundated by giant zucchinis that just wouldn't stop growing.

And every time I ate it, I thought to myself: this is much better than a regular chocolate cake.

I have missed it for the past 14 years, as I've been baking gluten-free for my favourite Celiac husband. 

But I'm now happy to say that I've cracked the gluten-free chocolate-zucchini cake code!

So, of course I wanted to share it with you — whether you need a gluten-free version or not.

  

 

 

 

 

one year ago: mary berry's oat rounds

two years ago: german sunken plum cake

three years ago: oat-date slice

 

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chocolate-zucchini cake

Note: This is half the size of my mom's original cake. If you make it with wheat flour, you could easily double the recipe and bake it in a 10-inch tube, 13 x 9-inch pan, or bundt pan.

90 g. (6 tbsp.) butter, softened
200 g. (1 c.) sugar
1 1/2 large eggs (or 2 medium)
1 tsp. vanilla
156 g. (1 1/4 c.) wheat flour 
   or gluten-free:
   62 g. millet flour
   46 g. potato starch
   46 g. sweet rice flour
   1 tsp. xanthan gum
1/4 c. cocoa powder
1 1/4 tsp. baking powder
3/4 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 c. milk
1 c. zucchini, grated
1/2 c. mini chocolate chips
1/2 c. walnuts, chopped

Butter an 8-inch round pan and line the bottom with parchment paper.

Cream butter and sugar until fluffy. Add eggs one at a time and mix well. Mix in vanilla. Set aside.

In a separate bowl, whisk dry ingredients together. 

Alternate adding the dry ingredients and milk to the butter mixture. Stir in zucchini, chocolate chips, and nuts at the end. Scrape into prepared pan.

Bake at 350 degrees for 45 to 60 minutes. The cake is done when a tester comes out clean and it just starts to pull away from the edges of the pan.

 

german sunken plum cake

For the past three years, Classic German Baking has been my favourite cookbook.

By my latest count, I've made 31 of the recipes in the book. Everything from marble cake to choclate-dipped almond crescents to apple-marzipan cake to South German leek tart. And it's all very, very good. It is my dearest wish that Luisa would follow up this book with a classic German cooking book. Just putting that out there.

Anyway. This is the cake we have made the most often because it is endlessly adaptable, according to the fruit you have on hand.

When we lived on the Prairies, we often made it with sour cherries or chopped rhubarb that had been tossed with a handful of brown sugar.

Now that we're in Montreal, I've been finding some nice prune plums that have been crying out to be added to cakes. I happily oblige.

The cake takes only a few minutes to throw together and has such a good buttery flavour with pockets of sweet slumped fruit ... I expect I'll be baking it every couple of months for the rest of my life.

one year ago: overnight oats with raspberries
two years ago: dutch koek
three years ago: salted butter crackers

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german sunken plum cake
adapted from luisa weiss's sunken lemon-cherry cake in classic german baking

130 g. (9 tbsp. + 1 tsp.) butter, at room temperature
180 g. (1 c. minus 1.5 tbsp.) sugar
3 eggs
grated peel of one lemon
180 g. wheat flour
     or gluten-free:
     70 g. millet flour
     55 g. sweet rice flour
     55 g. potato starch
     1 tsp. xanthan gum
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt
300 — 400 g. (about 1.5 cups) quartered plums, pitted sour cherries, other stone fruit
icing sugar to dust (optional)

Turn the oven on to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Use parchment paper to line the bottom of a 9-inch/23 cm springform pan.

Beat the butter and sugar together until fluffy. Beat in the eggs one at a time. Mix in the grated lemon peel.

In another bowl, stir the flour(s), baking powder and salt together. Stir into the butter mixture until just combined. Make sure you've scraped the sides down to mix everything. If you are putting fruit in the batter (you may just put it on top), fold it in now.

Put the batter into your prepared pan and smooth the top. If you're putting fruit on top, do it now.

Bake for 50 — 60 minutes until it's golden brown and starting to pull away from the side of the pan.

Cool on a rack for 20 minutes before taking off the springform ring. You may dust with icing sugar before serving.

lemon curd

As a teenager, I used to make lemon curd all the time.

I remember pulling out the double-boiler and setting the bottom pot on to boil while I measured out the lemon, sugar, eggs and butter for the top pot.

I'm not sure where I got the recipe — maybe the church cookbook?

In any case, I was smitten. I spooned it thickly between layers of cake and dolloped it on vanilla ice cream. Sometimes, I just spread it over buttered toast.

All that to say: why did I forget about it for 20 years?

As I have just re-realized, there's something about transforming the lemon into a wobbly, rich curd that makes it taste even more intensely of lemon. And it is wonderful.

I got fully back on the lemon curd bandwagon last weekend when I tried Regina Schrambling's lemon-almond butter cake. In it, you make lemon curd, then plop great spoonfuls onto the almond dough. The cake rises up around the curd and it all mingles together to create a homely cake with surprising pockets of lemon flavour. It is very good.

Then on Shrove Tuesday, Scott and I were invited to a pancake dinner. I, of course, offered to bring a pancake topping. Because — really — I'm always up to the challenge of making a new pancake topping.

Lemon curd it was. We had it again yesterday morning on our leftover pancakes. It might be just be our new favourite pancake topping.

At this rate, I'll be making lemon curd every three days. I think we'd both be OK with that.

one year ago: roasted rhubarb with wine and vanilla
two years ago: buttermilk pancakes with apple-pear tops
three years ago: salted butter break-up cookies

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lemon curd
very slightly adapted from Regina Schrambling*
makes a scant cup

grated zest and juice of 1 lemon
7 tbsp. sugar
2 extra-large eggs**
3 tbsp. butter, cubed

If you have a double boiler, put water in the bottom pot and get it started boiling. If you don't, start a regular pot. Place a fine-mesh sieve over a medium bowl and set aside for later.

In the top pot of the double boiler or a heatproof bowl, beat the zest, juice, sugar and eggs well. Add the butter. Set it over the boiling water pot. Stir constantly with a rubber spatula or a wooden spoon until it thickens into curd, about 5 to 8 minutes. I found mine was ready when the spatula would leave a trail on the bottom of the pot that wouldn't completely fill in with curd.

Strain into the bowl you already prepared. Press plastic wrap over the curd to keep it from forming a skin and cool in the fridge. Put in a clean jar or another container with a lid. Some recipes say lemon curd keeps for weeks in the fridge. Enjoy!

*I halved the recipe. Also, the original recipe (halved) calls for 6 tablespoons sugar. I mistakenly used 7 the first time I made it and I've kept using 7. I find it's just the right amount of sweet —any less and it would be too puckery.

**I do tend to have extra-large eggs on hand because they're a good price at the Italian Centre. However, I'm pretty sure this would work with large eggs, as the difference in weight is usually very small. Try it and let me know?

kladdkaka: sticky chocolate cake

This simple chocolate cake is apparently ubiquitous across Sweden.

I haven't visited Sweden yet, so I think I should probably do a serious research trip soon to confirm that.

But in the meantime, I can make kladdkaka at home in approximately two seconds. (Or half an hour, which is the equivalent of two seconds in the cake-baking world.)

Kladkakka is the original Swedish word and it's pretty fun to say. Kladdkaka is sticky and dense with ground hazelnuts and practically breathes chocolate. It also has a fudgy centre. In other words, it's just what I want in a quick weekend dessert.

The original recipe in the lovely Fika calls for unroasted almonds ... but hazelnuts are my very favourite nut, so I went with them. I also roasted them first because a roasted hazelnut is the ultimate hazelnut.

This cake seems pretty forgiving, though – I think you couldn't go wrong with roasted or unroasted almonds, hazels or walnuts, or even a combination of all three.

Kladdkakka also has the fun option of sprinkling poppy seeds on top! How unexpected is that? That's why I love these recipes from other parts of the world. I didn't have any poppy seeds in the house, but I'll definitely put them on next time.

So, if you have some nuts and cocoa, go ahead – make kladdkaka!

one year ago: ginger meringues
two years ago: hazelnut cacao nib granola
three years ago: japan in pictures


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sticky chocolate cake (kladdkaka)
slightly adapted from fika by anna brones and johanna kindvall
note that this recipe halves beautifully

1/2 c. (71 g., 2.5 oz) hazelnuts, if possible roasted and rubbed in a tea towel until their skins come off*
1/2 c. (113 g., 4 oz) butter
2 eggs
1 c. (198 g., 7 oz) sugar
1/3 c. + 1 tbsp. (28 g., 1 oz) unsweetened cocoa powder
1/4 tsp. salt
3 – 4 tsp. poppy seeds (optional)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit (175 Celsius). Grease a 9-inch (23-centimetre) springform pan.

Put the nuts in a food processor and grind until almost fine.

Melt the butter. Set aside to cool.

Whisk the eggs and sugar together in a bowl. Stir in the cocoa powder and salt. Then add the almonds, then the slightly-cooled butter. Stir until smooth.

Pour into the prepared pan. Sprinkle the top evenly with poppy seeds. Bake 15 to 20 minutes, until it's set on top but still a bit sticky inside. To check this, carefully lift one side of the pan. It's done if it doesn't move. If it still looks runny, let it bake a little longer.

Cool before serving – either alone or with a dollop of whipped cream.

*The original recipe calls for unroasted almonds. I think walnuts would be good too.

fresh plum kuchen

You know when you have something in mind, maybe something you haven't eaten properly since you were a child? And you set out to make it but you're not very hopeful because you haven't eaten it for so long and recreating recipes almost never works out on the first try?

That's how I felt going into plum cake.

I knew what I wanted: plum cake like I had from German bakeries when I was a child. Possibly plum cake that my mother even made, although I'm not sure.

What I do remember is that it had a hearty, buttery crust that was the furthest thing from a grocery-story white cake you could imagine. Plums in the top, sunken and weeping purple juice. On top of the plums there's this light crackling of sugary something.

We would eat it, my mom, my dad, my brother and I sitting under the cherry tree on our front lawn, around 4 o'clock in the afternoon on a weekend when it's officially coffee time if you're German.

I hadn't had such a plum cake for years, but I bought Italian prune plums at the market this week and they were just crying out for a dough resting place.

I found this recipe for fresh plum kuchen in The Essential New York Times Cook Book by Amanda Hesser. This particular cake dates from 1947, which gave me hope that it wouldn't be too modern or light. As far as I'm concerned, plum cake has heft and is not meant to be a mere wisp of cake.

I adapted it to have gluten-free flours and sent it into the oven with a hope and prayer.

Before it was done baking, I knew it was the plum kuchen I'd been looking for. Would you believe me if I tell you that I could tell by the smell?

There is something about plums with just a little bit of cinnamon that is magic. The cake itself baked into a texture I haven't encountered with gluten-free flours before. It tastes buttery but almost chewy, almost as it it had yeast in it.

It is exactly what I remembered. Perhaps that's why I've already had three pieces since it came out of the oven 21 hours ago.

one year ago: leek gratin
two years ago: beet salad with honey-horseradish dressing
three years ago: star anise plum jam
four years ago: finally yummy brussels sprouts

fresh plum kuchen
slightly adapted from Jane Nickerson in the Essential New York Times Cook Book by Amanda Hesser

cake
1 1/2 c. wheat flour
     or gluten-free:
     30 g. millet flour
     30 g. sorghum flour
     30 g. wheat-free oat flour
     60 g. sweet rice flour
     60 g. potato starch
     1 tsp. xanthan gum
2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 c. sugar
1/4 c. butter or vegetable shortening
1 large egg
1/3 c. milk
grated zest of 1 lemon or lime
melted butter for brushing

topping
1/3 c. sugar (1/2 c. if your plums are very sour)
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1 1/2 tsp. wheat flour
     or gluten-free:
     1 tsp. sweet rice flour
     1/2 tsp. millet flour
8 small ripe plums, halved and pitted
1 large egg yolk
2 tbsp. heavy cream
optional: whipped cream for serving

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit and butter an 8 by 8-inch pan. Set aside.

To make the cake, stir the flour(s), baking powder, salt and sugar together. Cut in the butter with a pastry blender or your fingers until it looks like coarse cornmeal.

Whisk the egg, milk and lemon zest together. Stir them into the flour mixture, until they're just blended to make a thick dough. Press the dough into the prepared pan, and then brush the top with melted butter.

To make the topping, stir the sugar, cinnamon and flour(s) together. Place the plums cut side up on the dough. Sprinkle the sugar mixture over the plums.

Whisk the egg yolk with the heavy cream. Drizzle over the plums and sugar mixture.

Bake in the oven for 15 minutes covered, then 20 minutes uncovered (35 minutes in all).

Serve alone or with whipped cream.