Tag: cakes

  • Saffranskladdkaka

    Saffranskladdkaka

    [Swedish saffron blondies]

    Snipp, snapp, snut – så var julen slut. Christmas has come and gone, and I never got around to sharing this recipe.

    We always celebrate the coming Advent early – often already in November. We call it novent. Candles in the windows, the first cups of glögg, something saffron-scented in the oven.

    Usually, it’s Birgitta’s saffranskaka – the one with plump raisins just so, and grated marzipan folded into the batter. But this year, we tried something new.

    A golden, delicate saffranskladdkaka, its edges just set while the centre stays soft. A new tradition for the years to come, perhaps?

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    Swedish saffron blondies

    A new saffron cake might just claim a spot among our Advent traditions. Made in one pot, it goes from cupboard to oven in just ten minutes.
    Saffranskladdkaka [literally, saffron sticky cake, a kind of saffron blondies]. Spectacular in thin wedges, served with a generous spoonful of vanilla custard and slices of clementine.
    Author: Fanny Zanotti
    Prep Time10 minutes
    Cook Time25 minutes
    Total Time4 hours 35 minutes
    Makes 16 thin slices

    Ingredients

    • 225 g salted butter
    • 1 g ground saffron threads
    • 300 g good quality white chocolate I like Callebaut or Valrhona
    • 270 g caster sugar
    • 3 tsp vanilla sugar
    • a pinch of salt
    • 4 eggs
    • 180 g plain flour

    Some favourite toppings

    • vanilla custard
    • clémentine slices
    • loosely whipped cream
    • fresh raspberries
    • icing sugar

    Instructions

    • Preheat the oven to 175°C/fan 160°C. Butter a 22cm tin and line its bottom with baking paper.
    • Melt the butter in a pan set over medium heat, and add the saffron, stirring well.
    • Off the heat, mix in the white chocolate, and stir using a silicon spatula until fully melted.
    • Now whisk in the sugars, salt, and the eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition.
    • Add the flour, and mix until just combined.
    • Pour the batter in the prepared tin, and bake for 30 minutes – the edges should be set, while the middle remains wobbly.
    • Let the cake cool completely in the fridge for at least 4 hours, preferably overnight, before serving.
    • Serve the cake in thin wedges, with a generous spoonful of custard and sliced clémentines, or perhaps with loosely-whipped cream and fresh raspberries. Even sometimes, only a light dusting of icing sugar is enough.

  • Clafoutis aux prunes

    Clafoutis aux prunes

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    Plum clafoutis

    One of my absolute favourite desserts – a twist on the classic cherry clafoutis – celebrates plums at their juiciest. The tartness of the plums balances the custard-like batter perfectly. It’s the kind of dish that feels both indulgent and homey – perfect when plums are in their prime and the weather calls for something warm from the oven.
    If you’ve been following for a while, you’ll know I’m partial to my grand-mère’s recipe. However, after a happy mishap – when I accidentally used half the flour one day – I found myself diving deep into clafoutis studies, exploring recipe percentages and running more than a few tests. The result is this version, my new staple, and a clafoutis that feels just right, as it should.

    Notes

    – Experiment with other fruits, like cherries or pears, but there’s something about plums that gives this clafoutis a lovely balance of sweetness and tartness.
    – Vanilla sugar is a staple in many French and Swedish homes. However, a teaspoonful of vanilla extract will do the trick if you don’t have any on hand. If you wish, you can even make your own vanilla sugar. I always collect used vanilla pods, wash them if needed, and leave them to dry in a pot in my skafferi [pantry] until crisp. Then, I mix 3-4 dried pods with 200-300g of caster sugar, grind them to a powder, and store it in an airtight container.
    Author: Fanny Zanotti
    Prep Time30 minutes
    Cook Time1 hour
    Total Time1 hour 30 minutes
    Makes 25 cm cake

    Ingredients

    • 150 g caster sugar
    • 1 tsp vanilla sugar
    • A pinch of salt
    • 100 g plain flour
    • 3 eggs 167g
    • 250 g whole milk
    • 250 g whipping cream 36%
    • 80 g melted salted butter
    • 400-500 g plums cut in half and stoned

    To prepare the baking dish

    • Butter
    • Cassonade or demerara sugar

    Instructions

    • Preheat the oven to 200°C / fan 180°C. Generously butter a baking dish (24-26cm in diameter) – then sprinkle liberally with cassonade/demerara sugar.
    • In a large bowl, whisk together the caster sugar, vanilla sugar, salt, and plain flour.
    • In a jug, weigh out the eggs, milk, and cream. Gradually pour the milk and cream mixture into the dry ingredients, whisking just enough to just bring it all together. Stir in the melted butter.
    • Arrange the plums in the prepared dish, cut-side down, and pour the batter over them gently.
    • Bake for 30 minutes, then reduce the oven temperature to 180°C / fan 160°C and bake for another 20-30 minutes, or until golden brown and set – with the center still slightly wobbly.
    • Let it cool for a moment before serving – warm or at room temperature.

  • Blåbärsmuffins

    Blåbärsmuffins

    [Blueberry muffins]

    Every summer, we head into the forest behind our house to pick wild blueberries. The days are long, with a light that lingers well into the night, casting a soft glow – not unlike a never-ending golden hour.

    As we fill our hinks with the tiny, inky-blue berries, the forest around us smells like pine and damp earth. If we wasn’t for the mosquitoes, you’d always find us there.

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    Blueberry muffins

    Adapted from Bel.
    These muffins are a favourite in our home. The batter comes together in minutes, quicker than it takes for my oven to warm up. When baked, their tops cracked just enough to reveal pockets of juicy berries.
    The crumb is light and soft, a wonderful contrast to the slight crisp of the demerara sugar crust.

    Notes

    On substituting buttermilk and sour cream:
    – buttermilk: I like to replace buttermilk with a mixture of filmjölk or runny narutal yoghurt and water For this recipe, I’m using 175g filmjölk and 50g cold water. 
    – sour cream: the closest we have in Sweden is gräddfil, in France, I would use crème fraiche or a rich Greek yoghurt instead. 
     
    If making jumbo muffins, you will have to adjust the baking time – use a skewer to test the doneness. 
     
    On saving batter for later use: 
    Sometimes, I will divide the batter without blueberries and save half in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 3 days. Then fold in half the amount of blueberries into the remaining batter and bake as usual. 
    The recipe can also easily be halved!
    Author: Fanny Zanotti
    Prep Time10 minutes
    Cook Time26 minutes
    Makes 24 muffins, or 12 jumbo-muffins

    Ingredients

    • 360 g plain flour
    • 2 tsp baking powder
    • 1 tsp baking soda
    • 225 g buttermilk read note above
    • 80 g sour cream read note above
    • 2 eggs
    • 300 g caster sugar
    • 2 tsp vanilla extract
    • a pinch of salt
    • 75 g neutral oil
    • 115 g melted butter
    • 300 g blueberries
    • demerara sugar to sprinkle

    Instructions

    • Pre-heat the oven to 225°C/fan 200°C. Butter two 12-cup muffin tins and line with paper liners.
    • In a bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, and baking soda using a whisk. And set aside.
    • In another bowl, whisk together the buttermilk, sour cream, eggs, caster sugar, vanilla extract, salt, and oil until smooth. Add the melted butter and whisk well.
    • Now add the flour mixture to the wet ingredients – making sure to reserve 2 tbsp flour mixture to later coat the blueberries.
    • Mix using a silicon spatula until barely combined and the batter still has flour spots.
    • Add the blueberries to the remaining flour and shake around to coat. Then fold delicately into the batter.
    • Spoon batter into the prepared muffin tins, filling right to the top. Sprinkle generously with demerara sugar.
    • Bake in the pre-heated oven for 10 minutes, then reduce the temperature to 175°C/fan 160°C and bake for a further 15-16 minutes, or until a skewer inserted into the centre of a muffin comes out clean.
    • Allow to cool down and store in an air-tight container for up to 3 days. Or freeze for up to a month.
  • Sienna’s 5th birthday cake

    Sienna’s 5th birthday cake

    For my own record. My all-around sponge, raspberry jam, whipped vanilla pastry cream, wild blueberries, raspberry mousse, and vanilla frosting.

  • Tårtbotten

    Tårtbotten

    [All-around sponge cake]

    all around sponge cake

    Ann, one of my Instagram followers, asked on a video of the sponge pictured above if it was “the same recipe as the sponge for the Fraisier in your cookbook?”, to which I replied that this one is slightly different – it has a touch of milk and some baking powder as well. And that really, it would be fun and interesting to bake both and compare. She even mentioned a hot-milk sponge, which made me extremely curious.

    I really think I might have to do a recipe study on classical sponge cakes: génoise, tårtbotten, hot-milk and more. TBC.

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    All-around sponge cake

    This tårtbotten really is an all-around sponge cake. I make for everything, from the classic Swedish prinsesstårta [princess cake] to roll cakes.
    For a layer cake, I like to bake mine in a 20cm cake tin, and then slice it into 3 or 4 layers after it's cooled down.
    For a roll cake, I usually bake it into a 30x40cm baking tray. Make sure to adjust the baking temperature to 225°C/fan 200°C, and bake the sponge for 5-8 minutes.

    Notes

    It is very traditional in Sweden to replace half the flour with potato starch for a lighter sponge – this is not something I usually do, but I will try it next time I bake one.
    Author: Fanny Zanotti
    Prep Time15 minutes
    Cook Time30 minutes
    Total Time45 minutes
    Makes 1 20cm cake

    Ingredients

    • 3 eggs
    • 125 g caster sugar
    • 1 tsp vanilla sugar
    • a pinch of salt
    • 2 tbsp whole milk
    • 120 g plain flour
    • 1 tsp baking powder

    Instructions

    • Preheat the oven to 175°C/fan 160°C.
    • Butter a 20cm-cake tin and line the bottom with baking paper.
    • In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the eggs and caster sugar with a pinch of salt until pale and fluffy. Stir in the whole milk.
    • Sift in the wheat flour and baking powder. And gently fold into the egg mixture until fully combined.
    • Pour the cake batter into the prepared tin, and bake in the preheated oven for approximately 25-30 minutes, or until the cake is lightly golden and a skewer inserted into the centre comes out clean.
    • Leave the cake to cool in the tin for 5-10 minutes, then unmould and allow to cool completely on a wire rack.
    • Once cooled, gently peel away the baking paper from the base of the cake, and use as you wish.
  • My ultimate Swedish kladdkaka

    My ultimate Swedish kladdkaka

    I’ve shared this recipe before. Almost six years ago to the day. The first snow had just fallen down, and we had just moved into our then-flat, the one where our bedroom windows overlooked the rooftops of Skellefteå.

    Six years later, we now live in another flat, waking up to a forest of pines every morning. And although it is already late in the year, the first snow hasn’t come yet.

    Over these years, I’ve baked kladdkaka countless times, although the recipe has evolved a lot since I first posted it here. Nowadays, I always make it using three eggs. And I’ve reduced the amount of sugar I use – anywhere from 300 to 350g. The former gives more a fudgy cake, while more sugar means a cake on the soft, creamy side.

    But no matter how much sugar you decide to use, it is such a versatile cake and the batter comes together in minutes, with minimal dishes.

    Served with barely whipped cream and freshly picked berries in the summer, roasted pears and vanilla ice-cream in the autumn, and if you’re lucky enough to have wild blueberries in your freezer, then you could make my favourite version all-year-round: kladdkaka with blueberry compote and vanilla custard.

    Here is to many more years of kladdkaka!

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    My ultimate Swedish kladdkaka

    Author: Fanny Zanotti
    Prep Time15 minutes
    Cook Time45 minutes
    Total Time1 hour
    Makes 22 cm cake, serving 8-10.

    Ingredients

    • 190 g salted butter
    • 300-350 g golden caster sugar
    • 1 1/2 tsp vanilla sugar
    • 3 eggs
    • 135 g plain flour
    • 55 g cocoa powder
    • 1/4 tsp sea salt

    Instructions

    • Preheat the oven to 175°C/fan 160°C. Butter a 22cm tin and line its bottom with baking paper.
    • Melt the butter in a pan set over medium heat. Off the heat, add the sugars and allow the mixture to cool down slightly for 2-3 minutes. Whisk in the eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition.
    • Add the flour, cocoa powder, and salt, and mix until just smooth.
    • Pour the batter in the prepared tin, and bake for 30-45 minutes, depending on how runny you want your cake to be. Allow to cool slightly down before serving.
  • Birgittas saffranskaka

    Birgittas saffranskaka

    [Birgitta´s saffron cake]

    If you follow me on instagram, you’ll recognise this cake. One that I make year after year, sometimes late november, when the snow starts to settle into a thick coat and paper stars hang at our windows. One that we made, Sienna and I, on a very cold Monday, just a few weeks ago. And filmed the whole process. You can watch our videos here, but it’s a bit of a happy circus!

    On saffron

    In Sweden, ground saffron is readily available at every supermarket in small half-gram enveloppes. And that’s the reason why most Swedish Christmas recipes call for saffron powder instead of the usual saffron threads.
    As always with saffron, it’s fundamental to extract its flavour as much as possible before incorporating it into a batter or a dough. Now, I must admit that I’ve baked cakes and bullar only doing a quick infusion, often by mixing the saffron powder into melted butter or into the liquids of a recipe.

    However, if you have time, I would recommend to make a saffron syrup. It can be made mid to late-November and will keep throughout the Christmas season.
    Start by mixing 3 g saffron (threads or powder) with 1 tbsp vodka in a small jar (I use a 150ml jar). Allow to infuse for a week. Then make a simple syrup by boiling 50 g water along with 50 g sugar, then pour over the saffron infusion and mix well.

    Now, when a recipe calls for 0.5 g saffron, you can easily substitute it with one tablespoon of your saffron syrup.

    Notes on gräddfil

    Gräddfil is a Swedish sour cream made with different bacteria strains than in the yoghurt making process. It has around 10-12% fat content and is best substituted with sour cream, or Turkish yoghurt, but in a pinch, natural yoghurt or even crème fraiche would make a good substitute.

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    Birgittas saffranskaka

    This recipe is adapted from my friend Susanne. Her mother-in-law – Birgitta – used to bake this cake every year around Christmas time. If I recall right, her recipe has a less sugar and she never soaked raisins, one thing that Susanne is also partial too. I also like to add grated almond paste into the batter, and a thick coat of slivered almonds on top of the cake before it goes in the oven.
    Sadly, I never got the chance to meet Birgitta, but I'm deeply grateful that her cake has become a tradition in our house as the very first thing we bake with saffron every year, not unlike a soft step into the Christmas season.
    Author: Fanny Zanotti
    Prep Time25 minutes
    Cook Time45 minutes
    Total Time1 hour 10 minutes
    Makes 20 cm cake

    Ingredients

    • 100 g raisins
    • 2 eggs
    • 210 g caster sugar
    • pinch of salt
    • 100 g salted butter
    • 0.5 g ground saffron read notes above
    • 150 g gräddfil Greek/Turkish yoghurt or sour cream (read notes above)
    • 180 g plain flour
    • 2 tsp baking powder
    • 100 g almond paste coarsely grated

    To top

    • a handful slivered or flaked almonds
    • icing sugar

    Instructions

    • Preheat the oven to 175°C/fan 155°C. Butter and line a 20cm cake tin with baking paper.
    • Before you get on with the cake batter, soak the raisins in boiling water and set aside.
    • Whisk the eggs and sugar along with a pinch of salt until light and fluffy. In a small pan, melt the butter. Add the saffron (read notes above) and the yoghurt of your choice.
    • Add the melted butter mixture to the eggs and mix well to combine.
    • In a separate bowl, sieve the flour and baking powder. Drain the raisins and shake them thoroughly to get rid of as much water as possbible. Then gently coat them with a tablespoon of the flour mixture.
    • Now mix in the remaining flour into the batter, folding with a silicon spatula. Add the raisins and grated almond paste, and pour into the prepared tin. Top with slivered or flaked almonds and bake for 35-45 minutes, or until golden-brown and a skewer inserted into the centre of the cake comes out clean.
    • Allow the cake to cool slightly on a wire rack then unmould and dust with a thin coat of icing sugar.

  • Sienna’s first birthday cake

    Sienna’s first birthday cake

    As a keepsake for myself. Vanilla génoise, raspberry and blueberry jam, vanilla crème pâtissière. Mascarpone cream, coloured with a syrup made with wild blueberries, sugar and water.

  • Cake week-end au citron, confit de clémentines à la vanille

    Cake week-end au citron, confit de clémentines à la vanille

    [Lemon weekend cake, clementine confit]

    Originally published on January 29, 2010

    This is a cake I’ve made so many times over the years that I could make it with my eyes closed.

    I remember the first time I posted about it. It was early 2010, and a thin mantle of snow had fallen overnight, just enough to cover the ground.

    I had just started working as a commis pastry chef at the Capital, a small boutique hotel that would become the road map of my seven years in London. Yes, many of the chefs I consider my mentors and friends have – at one point or another – worked in the kitchen where I did my very first service.

    This reminds me that I’ll have to tell you, one day, about the time where I traveled across town – from Islington to Mayfair – on a vegetable delivery van to meet Chavot for an interview, leaving loaves of sourdough proofing in the kitchen above John Salt, and came back just in time to bake them before dinner service.

    But… this cake. A gâteau de voyage [a travel cake]. It doesn’t translate well, but the name alone suffices to evoke the soft lull of a holiday; the carefully wrapped slice, eaten on the night train; the afternoons at the beach; perhaps even, the long drive through the Massif Central.
    All gâteaux de voyage have the particularity to keep well at room temperature over a week or so. And this weekend cake is no exception, with both butter and crème fraiche to keep it moist, I find that it tastes even better the next day.

    It starts by whisking the eggs and sugar, with just a pinch of salt. The flours gets folded in. Then a third of the batter is mixed with the fats, then delicately folded back into the remaining batter.
    Although, I now often make it by adding the fats to the eggs, then folding in the flour.

    For the sake of staying true to my original recipe, I will leave the former method – as written in 2010, but know that both work fine, the latter leading to a slightly denser crumb, which I like when having cakes with tea or more accurately – and dare I say it – I love when dipping a slice in piping hot tea.
    Please, tell me you also give in to this ritual or am I the only one?

    And although, I can never resist it unadorned, I am rather fond of serving it with a generous spoonful of clementine confit and a dollop of crème fraiche.
    There is something about the suave softness of the compote against the gentle bite of the cake.
    Sometimes I even make it with tea – finely milled to a powder – folded into the batter. Other times, I leave it plain, perhaps with a touch of vanilla or orange blossom water, and we eat it with softly whipped cream and warmed raspberries.

    Yes, more than a recipe this really is blueprint and should be used as such.

    Just a quick note on baking temperatures: while I often bake this loaf cake at 175°C for approximately 45 minutes, I can only remind you of my favourite method for baking loaf cakes.
    5 minutes at 200°C/fan 180°C, 10 minutes at 180°C/fan 170°C, and around 25 minutes at 170°C/fan 160°C.

    Cake weekend au citron, confit de clémentines à la vanille

    Makes one loaf cake.

    For the clementines confit

    350 g clementines, around 3 to 4
    200 g caster sugar
    half a vanilla pod
    100 g water
    20 g cornflour diluted in 40 g cold water

    For the lemon weekend cake

    4 eggs
    250 g caster sugar
    zest from 2 organic lemons
    200 g plain flour
    one tsp baking powder
    150 g creme fraiche
    50 g butter, melted

    softened butter, extra for piping

    To serve

    a generous dollop of crème fraiche for each serving

    Make the clementine confit: bring a large pan of water to the boil. Plunge the clementines in it and simmer for 3 minutes. Sieve, placing the fruits in an ice-cold water bath as you do so. Repeat one more time. Then chill the clementines until cold enough to handle.
    Slice finely, and place in a pan along with the sugar, vanilla pod and seeds, and water.
    Simmer for 30 minutes or until reduced and almost candied. Then vigorously fold in the cornflour mixture. Allow to boil for a couple of minutes, and transfer to a bowl.
    The confit will keep in the fridge for up to 5 days or in the freezer for up to 3 months.

    Make the cake batter: preheat the oven to 175°C/fan 155°C; butter and flour a loaf tin.
    Place the eggs, sugar, lemon zest, and salt in a bowl, and whisk until thick and doubled in size.
    In an another bowl, mix the flour and baking powder, and fold into the egg mixture.
    Pour a third of the batter onto the cream and melted butter, mix well, and transfer back to the main batter mix, gently folding in as you do so.
    Pour into the prepared tin. If you want an even crack in the center of your loaf cake, pipe a thin line of softened butter across the batter; and bake for 45 minutes, or until a knife inserted in the cake comes out clean.
    Allow to cool down 20-30 minutes before unmoulding.
    If not eating right away, place into an airtight container and keep at room temperature.

    Place a slice of cake cut in half lengthwise in a plate. Top with both a spoonful of confit and a dollop of crème fraiche.

  • Kladdkaka du dimanche

    Kladdkaka du dimanche

    [Swedish chocolate cake, of the Sunday kind]

    Everytime I come around here, a whole season has gone by.

    There was summer and its endless hours in the kitchen that I now call home. But before we knew it, the time for semester [holidays] came. And went.

    Two weeks in our stuga [cabin] in the middle of the woods; and I still stand by my words when I say Åsen is my dream place. A dream that – this time – we shared with my family who traveled the three-thousand kilometres between us.

    We picked blåbär [blueberries] and lingon; and my father – who’d never been this up north ever before – spent a day teaching me where to find mushrooms in the Swedish forests, reminiscing the mornings we’d busied up in the lower Alps more than twenty years ago now. We picked mostly giroles, but also ceps and chanterelles, although it was still a little early in the season for the latter.

    We visited the small factory where the dalahäst we cherish so much are made, a short twenty minute drive from the stuga, in the heart of Dalarna. My mother bought more horses that she could – literally – handle; and the picture I took on my phone will always be a favourite memory of mine.

    We baked traditional Swedish snittar and drömmar [biscuits] that now also have a strong following in a little house of the south of France.

    Then came the golden days – that I must admit, I almost wrote as “goldays”, perhaps I am onto something – of autumn.

    Long walks by the river to the sound of the wind through birch branches so tall it makes you dizzy. And no matter what, I will always be in love with the peculiar colour of a sun setting through these trees that are now a part of my universe.

    There is the smell of rain. And dead leaves too. And of pumpkin roasting in the oven, just so. There is the first frost, which I had predicted to the day. Yes, to the day! And the rönnbär [Rowan berries] we picked and candied; a jar that will probably be forgotten at the back of the fridge for another few weeks before it makes an appearance on our table.

    And rather unexpectedly, there was winter too.

    The day after we’d moved to our new flat. The view of Skellefteå rooftops from our bed; one minute black as coal, the next covered in a thick mantle of snow. A snow that lasted for a week, even though back then, we did not know that just yet.
    The following Sunday, we pulled the suspenders of our warm overalls up and wrapped ourselves in wool. A morning in the snow, and an afternoon by the kitchen stove. And somewhere in the middle, kladdkaka and wine were involved.

    My Swedish kladdkaka recipe
    This is not a recipe I had planned to share with you, although it’s one that followed us through the seasons.

    Served with barely whipped cream and freshly picked berries in the summer; roasted pears and vanilla ice-cream in the autumn, and now made in a cardboard box kitchen as we were unpacking the things we love enough to have taken along on the ride that took us here to the north of Sweden.

    Yes, this kladdkaka recipe is just that. An everyday wonder; whipped up in less then ten minutes, it can be as fancy or as casual as you want it to be.

    And today, I thought I’d test the halogen builders site light Kalle bought last year for me to be able to take pictures through our long winter. And that perhaps, you’d appreciate to have your Sunday fika sorted out for the weekend ahead.

    In case you still have your doubts, you should know Sam’s – 3 year-old – stance on the subject: “De är jättekladdiga!” [They are very sticky*].
    * A good thing since kladdkaka literally means “sticky cake”, although I have a feeling chewy would be more of an appropriate translation.

    My Swedish kladdkaka recipe

    Makes one 22cm cake, serving 8-10.

    125 g unsalted butter
    250 g caster sugar
    1 tbsp vanilla sugar
    2 eggs
    90 g plain flour
    40 g cocoa powder
    5 g sea salt

    Preheat the oven to 175°C. Butter and line a 22cm tin with baking paper.

    Melt the butter in a pan set over medium heat.

    Off the heat, add the sugars and allow the mixture to cool down slightly for 2-3 minutes. Whisk in the eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition.

    Add the flour, cocoa powder, and salt, and mix until just smooth.

    Pour the batter in the prepared tin, and bake for 25 minutes, or until domed and cracked on top. Allow to cool down completely before serving.

  • Almond and raisin tea cake

    Almond and raisin tea cake

    I’ve been thinking about this cake ever since my mum emailed me earlier this week, asking for a good recipe for cake aux fruits confits.

    Growing up, cake aux fruits confits was always the last one left on a birthday dessert table. Slices of dry cake, studded with always too little candied cherries, of the bright-red kind, which if you’d asked me twenty years ago were the best part about this loaf cake.

    Of course, my dad who’s always been fond of the store-bought kind (same goes for madeleines, go figure!), would heavily disagree. But to be completely honest, as I read my mum’s email, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking that good and cake aux fruits confits don’t really go hand in hand. A thought that I’d soon learn how to let go.

    As any new recipe I work on, I make a mental list of the things I want and do not want in the finished product.
    Here I was trying to go as far away as possible from the fruit cakes I used to make when I first moved to London. Rich with dark brown sugar, many raisins and manier currants, and loaded with so much candied fruits you’d wonder where the cake batter had gone.

    What I wanted was a moist sponge with a slightly dense crumb and deeper flavours, studded with plump raisins and delicate candied fruits. A light-golden crust, made soft with ground almonds on the batter and a generous wash of tea-infused sugar syrup on the warm loaf.

    I made the cake this morning, as water was boiling for the first of many French-press-fuls of coffee. And I liked it so much that I thought you might too. Et pour toi aussi Maman <3

    I had to leave out the candied fruits, because I didn’t have any at home, and really, I’m pretty certain that the Swedes are wise enough to leave them out from their supermarkets’ shelves; yes, I truly think I haven’t spotted any since we moved here, not that I’ve been restlessly looking for fruits confits.
    It made for a wonderful almond and raisin tea cake, but if you’re after a cake aux fruits confits, you could most definitely replace some of the raisins with candied fruits, as noted in the recipe below.

    Almond and raisin tea cake

    Makes one loaf

    boiling water
    100 g raisins
    1 Breakfast tea bag

    125 g butter, soft
    70 g light brown sugar
    50 g caster sugar
    1 tsp vanilla sugar
    3 eggs
    100 g plain flour
    80 g ground almonds
    1 tsp baking powder
    120 g raisins or candied fruits     (see note above)

    A hour before staring, soak the raisins in boiling water – enough to cover them completely. Add the tea bag and set aside until needed.

    Preheat the oven to 180°C (for a fan-assisted oven). Butter and line a loaf tin with baking paper.

    Drain the raisins, pressing well to get rid of any excess liquid, and making sure to save the soaking liquid, which we’ll later use to make a syrup to brush the warm loaf with.

    Cream the butter and sugars for 5-6 minutes, until light and fluffy. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition.
    In another bowl, mix the flour, ground almonds, baking powder and raisins (or candied fruits, if using).
    Pour over the butter mixture and fold gently using a wooden spoon or spatula, until smooth. Finally fold in the soaked raisins and pour the batter into the prepared tin.

    Bake for 10 minutes at 180°C, then reduce the temperature to 160°C and bake for a further 30-35 minutes, or until the sponge feels springy to the touch.
    In the meantime, weigh out 100 g of the soaking syrup into a small pan and add 70 g of caster sugar. Bring to the boil. When the cake is baked, immediately brush the syrup on top of the warm loaf.
    Allow to cool down completely and unmould.

    This cake will keep for days at room temperature,well-wrapped in clingfilm.

    Cake aux raisins ou Cake aux fruits confits

    Pour un cake

    100 g raisins secs
    eau bouillante
    1 sachet de thé anglais

    125 g beurre, mou
    3 oeufs
    70 g vergeoise blonde
    50 g sucre
    1 càc sucre vanillé
    100 g farine T55
    80 g amandes en poudre
    1 càc levure chimique
    120 g raisins secs ou fruits confits

    Un heure avant de commencer, placer les raisins secs dans un bol supportant la chaleur et verser de l’eau bouillante pour les recouvrir. Ajouter le sachet de thé et laisser infuser pendant 1 heure.

    Préchauffer le four à 180°C (pour un four ventilé). Beurrer un moule à cake et le recouvrir de papier cuisson.

    Egoutter les raisins en prenant soin de bien les presser afin d’extraire un maximum d’eau. Réserver l’eau de trempage qui servira par la suite à imbiber le cake.

    Battre le beurre avec les sucres pendant 5-6 minutes. Ajouter les oeufs, un à un, en battant environ une minute après chaque oeuf.

    Dans un bol, mélanger la farine, poudre d’amandes, levure chimique et fruits confits (ou la seconde pesée de raisins secs pour un cake aux raisins). Verser sur le beurre et incorporer la farine à l’appareil en utilisant une cuillère ou spatule jusqu’à obtention d’une pâte bien lisse.
    Finalement, ajouter les raisins secs préalablement égouttés et mélanger brièvement.
    Verser l’appareil dans le moule à cake beurré.

    Cuire 10 minutes, puis abaisser la température à 160°C et poursuivre la cuisson pendant environ 30-35 minutes.
    Pendant ce temps, verser 100 g du liquide de trempage des raisins dans une petite casserole et ajouter 70 g de sucre. Porter à ébullition et réserver.

    Une fois cuit, imbiber le cake encore chaud à l’aide d’un pinceau. Laisser refroidir complètement, puis démouler.
    Ce cake se conserve très bien à température ambiante, enveloppé dans du papier film.

  • Fromage blanc cake

    Fromage blanc cake

    There was a day spent in the garden. A rake in the hands, and dead leaves piled high on a wheelbarrow. That day, the sun was high and warm, just like the two eagles we’d seen earlier, right after sunrise.

    The following morning was an entirely different story. A story made of snowflakes and a crackling fireplace. Both lasted all day, for the record.
    I baked the sourdough bread that I had left to proof on the porch overnight. And although it turned out to be much too big for my cast-iron pot, it was restlessly devoured while still warm, with only a few slices left for the next day.

    I painted too. A dalahäst. Although I still need to draw on top of the watercolours, using ink, just like I always do.
    And in the afternoon, when it became clear we wouldn’t leave the house, I whipped egg whites and folded them into fromage blanc, to make the one cake that might have possibly been baked weekly in my kitchen for a little over ten years, which I’ve yet to tell you about.

    Fromage blanc cake

    This recipe is a classic case of natural selection.
    What started with the words tarte au fromage blanc, hastily written with a not-so-steady hand over twenty years ago has slowly turned into a cake – a term close enough, yet, hardly accurately describes the wonder that it really is.

    All it took, really, was to remove the pâte brisée base. And just like that, many childhood memories resurfaced. The tourteau fromagé du Poitou; the burnt crust, the pâte brisée I would leave out in favour of the insane texture of this fresh goat’s cheese “cake”. And perhaps also, the soft cake that came from a cardboard box at the supermarket; halfway between a mousse and a cheesecake.

    And maybe that’s what I should call it: Fromage blanc French cheesecake. But then, it’d sound much more flamboyant that what it is.
    Because it is not. It’s a plain, slightly sour from the fromage blanc (however, Greek yoghurt makes and excellent substitute) and warm with vanilla (by any mean, please use homemade vanilla sugar) cake.
    If eaten piping hot from the oven, it’s the softest thing you’ve ever had. And in the morning, after a night spent on the kitchen counter, it becomes firm and yet delicate; a form, which is without a doubt my favourite.

    You could also add the zest from a lemon or an orange. Or fold in a light jam right before you pour the batter into its tin. I often don’t. For the sake of its plain, unpretentious character.

    Fromage blanc cake

    Serves 8-10

    4 eggs, separated
    a pinch of salt
    100 g caster sugar
    500 g fromage blanc or Greek yoghurt
    100 g cornflour or plain flour
    30 g vanilla sugar

    Preheat the oven to 175°C (185°C for traditional ovens). Butter and line the bottom of a 22cm cake pan with baking paper, and set aside.

    Whisk the egg whites with a pinch of salt until foamy. Add half the sugar and keep on whisking until they reach hard peaks.
    In another bowl, whisk the egg yolks and remaining sugar until light and fluffy. Gently fold in the fromage blanc, cornflour and vanilla sugar.
    Then, using a rubber spatula, fold in the meringue until barely smooth: it’s absolutely fine to still have bits of egg whites in the finished batter.

    Transfer to your prepared tin, and bake for 30 to 40 minutes, until well-domed and golden-brown. The top might have cracked a little and it should feel firm to the touch.

    Allow the cake to cool down to room temperature in its tin, then unmould onto a plate. Serve dusted with icing sugar or with berries, just brought to the boil with a spoonful of caster sugar.