danish cake

and a little bit of May

I could tell you the leaves are all out at last, or I can say it’s been lush beyond my greenest winter dreams. I could say the mornings have been brisk but the days sure do warm up, or I could tell you that after nearly 7 months of tending the wood stove with duty and diligence morning noon and night, daydreaming of a day without its cozy burden, it only took a week without it before a cool raiy day came and with it the excitement of lighting a fire just to take the chill out of the air. I could say there’s a storm coming in as I sit on my white and teal metal bench outside the front door, surrounded by seeds in pots and kids hitting a baseball, or I can tell you the air is blowing from three different directions, full of dandelion wishes and carrying the whirling scent of lilac and honeysuckle, the apple leaves rustling loudly enough to harmonize with the melody of the running river. I could say that the morning walks have been so nice, or instead that last week I learned there isn’t much more beautiful than the sunrise dappling through thick cloudy branches of apple blossoms. Did you know flowers smell better in the morning? I could say the boys are having a lot of fun or I could tell you the calendula salve made from last year’s garden has been opened every day, spread on scrapes, bites, and wild parsnip burns before running back outside. That we’ve held red efts and a baby turtle and counted 162 robins and that a downy woodpecker just flew overhead. I could call it May, or I could say I’m breathing a little deeper and smiling a lot more, that I’m back to bringing in the sheets in a basket on my hip.  

Besides the flowers and sunrises and grass that suddenly needs cutting and clotheslines and boys, May has had me baking and quilting in equal measure. I’ve got a picnic quilt commission on my work-table in shades of raisin, gold, olive, and dusty pink, and a composition in French-inspired blue calico waiting its turn on the side. I’ve made apple hand pies in a spelt dough with raw cheddar melted over the top, Alison Roman’s pistachio shortbread, two Taurus birthday cakes ringed in violets. For Mother’s Day I made a banana cream pie, the first I’ve ever made and the first I’ve ever eaten. It was delightful. I’ve baked dozens of loaves of sourdough bread as I always do, a box of birthday almond horns, and I took my first shot at sourdough-raised doughnuts (more on that later). Last weekend for a morning of volunteering at my children’s school, I made what I can only think to call a Danish Cake. An easy cake base, with chopped slow-roasted rhubarb and cubes of cream cheese folded in, and dollops of strawberry jam swirled into the top. I’ll leave the recipe for you here – it makes a large 9x13 cake since I was feeding crowd, but you can reduce it by 1/3 and bake it in a 9” round or square pan for something a little smaller. It’s a little bit wholesome, full of seasonal flavors, and screams BRUNCH. If you like a classic fruit and cheese danish, you should really give this one a try. You could switch the flavors as the season gets on – fold in cherries or maybe peaches with apricot jam on top. Try a double blueberry version (I know I will).

I could say it’s time to go inside, or I could tell you three giant drops of rain just hit my face and I’m going to go open all the windows and listen to the first thunder of the season rumble and the rain tap the top of the tin porch roof through the old screen door while I get to work on supper. If it’s still dark and raining we’ll eat by candlelight, a reminder of how close we still are to the winter that just passed, and how fast these warm bright green months will go.

Danish Cake

Makes one 9x13” cake (24 square-ish slices)

Note: I use a scale as opposed to cups when baking, so the weighed measurements are most accurate here and I approximated as closely as I could for cups.

¾ cup (150g) dark brown sugar

1/3 cup ( granulated sugar

3 eggs

Heaping cup (250g) sour cream

1 ½ sticks unsalted butter, melted and browned

1 ½ teaspoons vanilla extract

1 teaspoon sea salt

2 ¼ cups (285g) all-purpose flour

2 ¼ teaspoons baking powder

¾ teaspoon baking soda

100g (just shy of half of a block) cream cheese

1/3 cup strawberry jam

½ cup chopped slow-roasted rhubarb*

Turbinado sugar (optional)

Line your pan with parchment paper and heat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Chop your cream cheese into small cubes or break it up into small, uneven pieces and place them in the freezer while you prepare the batter.

 In a saucepan, heat the butter over medium until melted and continue to cook until the popping and hissing quiets and and the butter smells nutty with brown flecks on the bottom of the pan. This doesn’t take long and the butter can burn quickly if you step away, but taking this extra step adds a delicious layer of flavor.

In your mixing bowl, whisk together the sugars and eggs for about a minute until combined and foamy. Add the sour cream, butter, vanilla, and salt and whisk until smooth. Next, add the flour, baking soda, and baking powder and whisk to combine.

Remove the cream cheese from the freezer and fold it into the batter along with the chopped roasted rhubarb. I call for ½ cup of rhubarb, but you could surely use more!

Pour the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top with an offset spatula or wooden spoon. Use a small spoon to dollop your jam over the top of the cake and use a butter knife to gently swirl the jam across the top of the batter.  If you’d like, sprinkle a tablespoon or two of turbinado sugar over the top for a little crackle.

Bake the cake until puffed and golden, about 40 minutes. Allow the cake to cool in the pan for about 15 minutes and then lift the parchment out to allow the cake to cool completely. Serve warm or at room temperature.

*Slow roast a few stalks of rhubarb at 300 degrees with a sprinkle of sugar over the top for about an hour. This can be done a day or two in advance, or roast a whole bunch and have some for your yogurt too.