comments 3

Cake for breakfast

A few years ago when I was working in Auckland’s CBD, I developed the habit of calling into the Panetone bakery each morning to get a coffee and breakfast.  At the time, Panetone was making the most divine orange and date scones, and I bought one several days in a row, breaking off fragrant pieces to eat as I walked up Queen St to the office.  I don’t know what made me overthink it, but one day as I was sinking my teeth into the sweet, suspiciously soft and buttery scone, I just knew that this wasn’t really a scone of the robust, humble type churned out in most home kitchens.  This scone was basically cake.  I was eating cake for breakfast.

Call me a shallow product of gendered discourses, but I could not bring myself to purchase another one of those scones.  Instead, I shifted to an alternative option offered by Panetone: bran and apple muffins.  Looking back, and recalling the delectable topping of brown sugar and crisp walnuts, it’s clear that these muffins probably had at least the same amount of fat and sugar as the rejected scones.  But in my optimistic mind, the presence of roughage provided the healthy edge required to render them guilt-free.  It helped that these specimens were called “muffins”, which went a long way to legitimise them as breakfast food, unlike scones, which in my experience, had always been a morning tea treat topped with jam.

Fast forward a few years, and much has changed.  I now, on occasion, eat cake for breakfast.  When I do, it is consumed gleefully.  That self-conscious younger self still watches from the sidelines, but she watches breathlessly, with awe.

I did not achieve this state of abandon alone – I do have a partner in crime who conspired in those first decadent moments (yes that’s right, I’m talking about you).  Any resistence that remains is seriously compromised when highly respected food bloggers debate the the fuzziness of the breakfast/cake boundary, and when one of them posts a recipe for Lemon Cornmeal Breakfast Cake without even a hint of irony, it turns out that this line can be crossed rather effortlessly after all.

I first made this cake in March 2011 in the final few weeks before we left NZ.  It takes a special kind of delusion to pull out the cake tins when you are surrounded by half-packed boxes and feeling faint from the loss of sleep caused by crushing anxiety that you aren’t going to get everything done.  But at the time, I was equally fixated on using up the supplies in what had been my Well Stocked Pantry, and this recipe enabled me to put a dent in two languishing packets of cornmeal and icing sugar.  Thankfully, it also boasted the advantage of not requiring any tedious creaming of butter and sugar while still producing a lovely result. The light glaze makes the cake wonderfully moist and extra-lemony, while the cornmeal adds a pleasing textural element.  It is best eaten while still warm from the oven although it will stretch out for a couple of days without too much trouble.

I make this cake almost exactly as Joy specifies, although I have never cooked it in the suggested cast iron pan.  A regular cake tin works just fine, and the cornmeal ensures that the cake is deliciously crisp around the edges, which is kind of what I imagine that the cast iron pan would achieve.  I have experimented with the glaze that is spooned over the top, finding the quantities in the original a bit too sweet for my liking.  And as seen in the photo provided, I have also successfully incorporated fresh blueberries into the cake, which makes it even more breakfast-like, in case you needed a bit more convincing.

Lemon Cornmeal Cake, with Blueberries


Adapted from Joy the Baker

1 1/2 cups plain flour
1/3 cup cornmeal (polenta)
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup brown sugar
3 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup buttermilk (I make a substitute for this, mixing 1 tablespoon of lemon juice into the cup of milk, and leaving it to sit for 5-10 minutes until it curdles)
2 large eggs
The zest of 1 lemon
120 grams unsalted butter, melted until browned
One punnet of fresh blueberries, rinsed and drained on paper towels

Preheat the oven to 180°C/350°F.  First, butter and flour a 20cm round springform cake tin and set it aside.  If you don’t have buttermilk, make a quick substitute as described above, and set it aside while you prepare the rest of the cake.  Brown the butter carefully in a small saucepan over a medium heat.  Be careful with this, as it’s easy to take the browning one step too far and end up with burnt butter (see here for a useful guide).  Once the butter is browned, pour into a small bowl and set aside to cool slightly.

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, cornmeal, sugars, baking powder, baking soda and salt.  In a small bowl, whisk together the eggs, buttermilk, lemon zest and brown butter.  Add the wet ingredients, all at once, to the dry ingredients and fold together with a spatula until very few lumps remain.  Pour the batter into the prepared tin and dot the blueberries over the top, pressing lightly into the batter.  Place the tin in the oven.

While the cake bakes, whisk together 1 cup of icing sugar and 5-6 tablespoons of lemon juice to make a thin glaze, which is more like a syrup in my version.

Bake the cake for 30 minutes or until a skewer comes out clean.  Take the cake out of the oven and let it cool for 10 minutes.  Remove the cake from the tin and use a skewer or a fork to poke numerous holes all over the top.  Spoon over the glaze and let it sink into the cake.  Joy advises that you should let the cake rest for about 30 minutes before serving, but I say, as soon as that glaze is on, it’s time for breakfast.

Filed under: Eat
comments 3

It’s Saturday morning (just perfect)

There is nothing like Saturday morning.  There’s relief and excitement in Friday night, but also an intensity sharpened by weariness. Sunday morning usually has an element of luxury for me – it’s these mornings that I’m most likely to laze in bed – but the impending week gradually forces its way into my consciousness as the day wears on.  Saturday morning, is squarely between the two: well wound-down, but still assured of the time and possibilities that stretch ahead.  It’s undemanding, yet energising.

I think that Nice ‘n’ Urlich captured this mood best in the opening track of their 1999 album Everything I Do, in which a velvet voice intones (over a background of orchestral warblings): “It’s Saturday morning, you’re listening to bfm and the very funky sounds of Nice ‘n’ Urlich”. The music then merges into the relaxed yet groovy beat of the cheesily-named second track,  Love Capsule Deluxe, and just like that, in the space of 25-seconds, you are transported into the very essence of this divine time.

It has become essential for us to get up early as possible on Saturday mornings, and we’re usually on a bus heading to the West End by 7.30am at the latest.  The West End markets are incredibly popular, and it helps to get there early before the crowds gather.  We have breakfast, meet up with fellow-market-goer friends, chill out and listen to the band, buy fruit and vegetables, and sample the various delicacies on offer.  Most days we’re home in time for me to go to a 10.15 yoga class at the gym, but if not, I relish a trawl through the local Vinnie’s second-hand clothing shop, or make a sneaky stop at Black Pearl Epicure to purchase yet more treats to fuel my weekend grazing.

The following photos capture a few of these moments experienced over the past few months.  Have a great weekend everyone.

At the West End markets, well before the crowds descend around 9am.

Halfway through a salted caramel macaron from the French bakery stand at the market.

Spinach and feta gozleme from the Turkish food stand, eaten on the grass in the early morning sun.  This bread is delicious – crunchy at the edges, still chewy in the centre, and freshened with acidic lemon.

My current favourite market breakfast: wholemeal pita filled with scrambled eggs, lettuce, tomato, hummus, and topped with a sweet-spicy tomato salsa.  With a cappuccino on the side, this is Saturday morning heaven.

Another sampling from the German roesti stand – potato roesti topped with poached eggs and hollandaise.  I am a firm believer in one utterly decadent breakfast every week.

A typical market haul: a range of fresh vegetables, a bunch of robust Italian parsley, the sweetest apricots ever, small, tight heads of organic Australian garlic, and a spices (on this day, fennel seeds, and a za’tar spice mix).  Shopping for fruit and vegetables at the supermarket is starting to feel totally uninspiring.

Home from the market.  On this particular day I tucked into a sheep’s cheese that melted and oozed over the beer and sunflower bread bought from our favourite bread-man.  I admired the retro cover of this Iris Murdoch novel I purchased for $1.50 at Vinnie’s on the way home.  I also (as if I needed more) drank rose and vanilla tea while catching up on my favourite blogs, becoming inspired (as usual) by other people’s creativity and humour and the same-but-different rhythms of their lives.  What a way to start the weekend.

Filed under: Eat
comment 1

I miss…

Fridge poetry.  Why, oh why, didn’t I think to ferret out my poetry magnets when we were at our storage unit in December?  Funny how something so frivolous while packing, turns out to be essential after all.  Today I bought a copy of Annabel Langbine’s The Free Range Cook, and the gorgeous photographs of NZ make me just a little homesick for cool breezes and muted light.






comments 2

It’s raining

It has been raining almost constantly for two days straight, and predicted to last for at least two days more.  Several people couldn’t make it to work today because of road closures, and the Cleveland train-line was interrupted for a while because of surface flooding.  Everyone is thinking about the floods only 12 months ago when three-quarters of the state of Queensland was declared a disaster zone.

Richard Tipping’s ‘flood’ sculpture was originally erected in New Farm to commemorate the 1974 Brisbane flood.  I took this photo of the sculpture back in September 2011:


The photo below is the same sculpture on 13th January 2011 (image credit here).  It will be a wet Australia Day tomorrow, but fingers crossed that we won’t need our kayaks.