I’d like to personally thank summer for packing its bags and hitting the road. What a long, hot, dry, unforgiving summer it was. I’m perfectly happy to be sitting here today in wool socks and an Eddie Bauer-via-Sam’s Club sweat suit, enjoying the sixty-something degree afternoon.
Once about every two weeks Mimi and I have a morning in which we’ve done all our things and it’s still an hour till lunch. This is when I put her in her high chair with some whisks and cookie cutters to play with, and we bake something. Today we tried Alton Brown’s aunt Verna’s recipe for orange cake, which had been sitting on my various hard drives for many years.
It’s a strange recipe, with a cup of honey and no additional sugar, four eggs in an amount of batter that just fills a loaf pan, and no additional fat. I had to bake it for 55 minutes instead of 30, and the outside got nearly black from caramelized honey. The cake has a rubbery rather than a crumbly texture. I had to have a second piece to help myself think about what I thought of it. I think I’d like to try the same flavors, honey and orange zest, in a cake with a more traditional makeup and crumb.