Schiacciata alla Fiorentina

My husband, kids and I were in Captiva, Florida with friends during Easter.  I was swimming instead of baking this year and so I did not get a chance to make a dessert.  Last week, I found this recipe by accident and decided it wasn’t too late to serve my family Schiacciata alla Fiorentina or “Orange Easter Cake”.  This is a good cake and as the recipe promises a very easy one to make.  The cake is golden when it comes out of the oven and I taste the nutmeg first which warms the flavor of orange.  It is perfect for breakfast with a cup of coffee perfectly French pressed with cinnamon.

It’s not, however, my childrens’ favorite although, as the days went on and I began toasting pieces of the cake, my one son became a fan of the toasty flavor.  I did receive the following comments from my little food critics: “Where’s the frosting?”  “What are those black dots?”  (nutmeg)  My husband says he can take it or leave it.  I like it and will make it again one of these afternoons and freeze it into portion-size pieces.

I have to say when I think of oranges and nutmeg, I think of Christmas time.  The warm, citrus- spicy aromas that filled my kitchen seemed a little out of place.  I will most likely then, save this “Easter” cake to brighten up the cold days of next winter.

Schiacciata alla Fiorentina (recipe from allrecipes.com)

2 c all-purpose flour

1 c white sugar

7 Tb warm milk

¼ c olive oil

1 orange, juice and zest

2 eggs

1 ½ Tb baking powder

1 tsp vanilla extract

½ tsp ground nutmeg

Preheat oven to 360 (yes, 360) degrees.  Grease a 9×13 baking dish with butter.  Mix flour, sugar, warm milk, olive oil, orange juice and zest, eggs, baking powder, vanilla extract and nutmeg in a large bowl and mix until batter is well combined (I used a hand mixer on low speed for 30 seconds and then medium speed for about a minute). Pour batter into the prepared baking dish and bake in a preheated oven until toothpick inserted into center of cake comes out clean – about 30 minutes. Since my oven bakes fast, I began checking for doneness at about 20 minutes and every 5 minutes after.

How to Hard-Boil An Egg I Will Not Forget

Lo que bien se quiso nunca se olvida.

That which you greatly loved never is forgotten.

(A Creole saying from Memories of a Cuban Kitchen

By Mary Urrutia Randelman & Joan Schwartz)

Today is the second anniversary of my grandmother’s passing.  In honor of her memory, I made hard-boiled eggs and I ate a piece of cake.  It was my grandmother, Gertrude “Trudy” Ludwig, who taught me simple and good things like: the 3/15 minute timing for hard-boiled eggs, it is necessary to relax when the work is done, and that a woman should enjoy a piece of cake now and then.  For as many memories I have of her standing at the stove, I have just as many of her sitting in her lawn chair in the sun telling me stories while sipping a Coke.

The following is Grandma’s foolproof technique for hard-boiled eggs:

Cover eggs with cold water.

Bring to a gentle boil, continue to boil for 3 minutes.

Take off the heat and cover.

Let them sit for 15 minutes.

Finally pour off the hot water while running cold water over the eggs.

Leave the eggs to cool in the pot with cold water.

Go wash last night’s dishes or start a load of laundry.

If you haven’t made your bed, go – make it now.

Now sit for a moment and enjoy your cake.

The eggs should now be cool.

*Dry each egg with a paper towel and put them in a glass container with a lid in the refrigerator.

*A glass container with a lid is important if you don’t want to listen to your husband and children complain every single time they open the refrigerator door that “It smells like farts in there!”

The Beginnings of a Tasty Affair

What happens when the love of your life refuses to try anything with mustard, frisee lettuce, beans, green vegetables or tomatoes in it?  Where does a woman, who loves to try new foods, who loves to cook and learn new skills in the kitchen go when her husband will only eat the same eight meals over and over?  When her man would rather throw a frozen pizza in the oven and head on over to the couch to wait for the timer to ding? When the only cheese he’ll put in his mouth is American or Cheddar, the only bread, white or crusty Italian?

And worse, when your perfect children watch their hero, their killer of spiders – the guy who can fix anything- shrink from the broccoli on the table?

I’ll tell you what she’s done.  Time and time again, she has cooked the meal she knows he’ll eat and put the kids’ chicken nuggets in the oven alongside the carrots (orange, not green, and so, acceptable) and potatoes for him.  She’s chopped up rainbows of raw veggies for the kids to pick over.  And, finally, she has sat at the dinner table with gratitude in her heart for her wonderful, quirky family and with a furrow in her brow for the many recipes out there she might never get to try.

But, one day she realizes that she has a small window of time between dropping off the kids at school and picking them up.  She has a small moment of solitude in the afternoon when her husband is at work and she is left all alone.  And then it hits her!  Wham! She’s pulls her dusty cookbooks and recipe box down off the shelf and decides she will use this time to create wonderful meals for herself.  And who has to know?  These are private moments she indulges in and keeps them all to her self.

Until now, until Mangoes and Mojitos.