The Original Plum Torte


My announcement one Saturday morning — “I’m making a plum cake!” — fell a little flat. My fiancé was not enthused and when I explained that no, it would not be a cake with frosting, I was met with only more skepticism. But soon the house was scented with cinnamon and the plum torte sat proudly on my cake stand. The cake itself doesn’t take long to make, and it took even less time for this recipe to find its newest fans.

The New York Times first published the original plum torte recipe in the 80s. The recipe ran again each year during plum season for more than a decade. Readers demanded it! Who can resist a recipe with such folklore? I made the cake just a few days after coming across it on one of my favorite food blogs, and I was impressed with its flavor and ease. No wonder Amelia made it twice already.

While Danny was out taking care of errands, I whipped up the cake and perhaps never felt more relaxed and cool about baking. There’s a lot of love for this torte, and a lot of that has to do with its simplicity and versatility. The cake elevates plums, for sure, but it’ll take to other fruit. Apricot. Cherry. Even berries. Try apples and pears as September takes us into fall. Just tumble the fruit over the top of the batter and the cake will puff up around it.

Fellow bakers suggest not cutting into the cake until the second day. That is, if you can find the willpower to wait.  The juices from the plums settle and release into the cake, infusing even more flavor. I had no intention of waiting but that night we served up a solid dinner of butter chicken and basmati rice, and we found ourselves too full for dessert. With a big mug of coffee in the morning, a slice of the plum torte was wonderful for breakfast. Our friend ate two slices that morning.

“It’s like it had jam inside. It was so good,” Danny said. And that’s a big reason why I love this cake. I adore the intense flavors of roasted stone fruits, plums in particular, and this is a recipe that shows them off. Danny said he’ll take a slice of the plum torte over any frosted layer cake. Me too.

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The Tequila Sun Also Rises


It was a week and a half ago that we moved out of our apartment in the boonies and into an old house in St. Pete. It was home to friends of ours for several years, so the house has good vibes. We woke up early on moving day (far too early for a Saturday), and a couple friends helped us load the truck. Derek brought doughnuts to ease the pain.

A few hours later, friends started showing up at the house. Ready to unload, unpack, and help us settle in. Pizza was ordered. From our fridge, which at this point held a bottle of champagne, leftover pie, and beer, we grabbed a few cans and then went out for more. Most of our friends live on this side of the bridge, and I’m glad we’ll be closer for more days like this.

Cooking in the new house was a breeze once all our pans and plates and gadgets were in order. It seemed all the moving boxes had the same label: kitchen. I learned how to use the gas stove, and we’ve since made fettuccine with cherry tomatoes and roasted garlic, simple dinners, a plum cake (coming to you soon!) and butter chicken.

We had guests stay with us over Labor Day weekend, and one night we had friends over for an impromptu dinner. You could maybe call it our first unofficial dinner party in the house? All the lights went off in one long pause as a storm came through. I held my breath. We didn’t even have the pasta water going yet and while most people appreciate a nice dinner by candlelight, cooking by candlelight sounded a lot less romantic. To my relief, the lights came back on. Dinner came together, slowly but surely.

Four bottles of wine. Poof.

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Back from Mexico with a Craving for Chilaquiles

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They say it takes 21 days for something to become a habit. But when you’re in Mexico spending most of your day in water that’s unbelievably blue and not knowing what time it is (and not caring), I think that number shrinks by quite a bit.

We were at a beach north of Cancún for a family vacation, and Danny and I started a morning ritual of chilaquiles followed by tequila sunrises. There was no reason for this morning routine to change — except that we had to go back home. To reality. To wedding planning. To decisions about moving. This is where the tequila comes in.

We were back from Mexico with some serious tans and a serious craving for chilaquiles. It was time to make my own. Continue reading  continue reading

Tomato Cobbler


Recipes that take a traditionally sweet dish and turn things savory are so appealing to me. There’s no reason berries and peaches should have all the fun this summer. Tomatoes love biscuits, too, and they’re fruit after all. Let’s make tomato cobbler.

I made two dishes of tomato cobbler yesterday for brunch, and they went over very well. I was inspired to make this recipe because a friend who is moving away loves tomatoes, but they ended up being a real crowd-pleaser. Cheesy biscuits on top of blistered sweet tomatoes mingling with caramelized onions and garlic? Not a bad way to kick off Sunday. This is gonna be one to make every summer.


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Watermelon and Black Pepper Granita

Watermelon and Black Pepper Granita  | a little saffron

It’s sweaty out there, whew. Jeans are getting pushed to the back of the closet. No pants til September. If, like me, you’re looking for an excuse to stick your head in the freezer for a blast of cold air, the answer is granita. Gra-ni-ta! That’s the Italian name for this icy dessert, and you can flavor it pretty much any way you like. This one tastes intensely of sweet, fresh watermelon enhanced with liqueur and black pepper. We think it’s pretty spot on and we’ve looked forward to it for dessert each night this week. Watermelon granita hits the spot when your apartment’s AC has given all it can give, and it’s time to find other ways to keep cool.


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