I am lucky enough to have an apple tree in my backyard. Unfortunately, it has been diagnosed with fire blight, so I think this may be its last year. The aborist says it can't be saved, which makes me want to weep. Our beloved apple tree was already misshapen from years of neglect before we bought our house, but it now additionally has broken branches and peeling bark. Overall, it looks pretty shabby. But I don’t care how it looks. I adore the fruit it bears.

The apples from my tree aren't anything like what you get at a store. They are unique and part of an age when heirloom varieties grew in abundance. I never have it sprayed, so the cores may sometimes house a happy little worm, but the meat is beautiful, organic and tastes fantastic. Our apples are crisp and delicious right off the tree while also holding up well when cooked or baked. The thought of going to buy a replacement tree makes me depressed. I like the old scruffy tree we have.

One of the best things about having an apple tree is being able to go in my own backyard to pick apples to make a cake. I have quite a weakness for apple cake, especially when the apples are crisp and sweet. So, in honor of my tree and the many apples it has bestowed upon us for apple slices, apple tarts, apple butter, and, yes, apple cakes, I'd like to share my recipe. As you'll see, the cake is full of apples, but don't be alarmed that it looks like there are more apple pieces than batter. The abundance of apples makes the cake wonderfully moist. The apples also bake nicely into the batter so they don't detract from the cakiness of the texture. With a hint of cinnamon and some toasted walnuts, it's perfect for dessert, brunch, tea, or an afternoon snack. It's also easy and quick to make.

I am still hoping for a botanical miracle that will save our tree. Maybe I'm feeling sentimental because it's dying, but I've always seen it as a sentry of sorts in our backyard, marking the passing of time: blooming in the spring, bulging with fruit in the summer, dropping golden leaves in autumn, and standing bare and empty in winter. And then it does it all over again, or at least it did.

So in honor of my apple tree, here's the recipe. I hope you like it as much as we have over the years.

Apple Cake

Makes: 10 - 12 Servings

Ingredients:

1 cup vegetable oil
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
2 cups flour
1 tsp baking soda
½ tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
4 heaping cups peeled and chopped apples (about ¼ inch thick cubes)
½ cups toasted walnuts (optional)
¼ cup brown sugar
1 tsp cinnamon

Preparation:

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. Butter or oil a bundt pan or a 9x13 baking dish.
3. Combine oil, eggs and sugar in a large bowl.
4. In a separate bowl, mix together flour, baking soda, salt and cinnamon
5. Add flour mixture to egg and sugar mixture, being careful not to overstir.
6. Add apples and nuts (if using) to the batter.
7. If using a bundt pan, sprinkle the final ¼ cup of brown sugar and ½ tsp cinnamon on the bottom of the greased bundt pan.
8. Pour batter into your pan, spreading evenly.
9. If using a 9x13 baking dish, sprinkle the ¼ cup of brown sugar and ½ tsp cinnamon evenly on top of the batter.
10. Bake for 35 – 40 minutes, or until you can pull a toothpick out clean.
11. Sprinkle with powdered sugar when cool.

I've had this cake on my mind for some time. It has been years since I've eaten one-- not since childhood. I remembered it as being sticky and sweet, delicious and remarkably easy to prepare-- that is, I do not remember anyone ever slaving over the making of a Pineapple Upside Down Cake.

My fondness for the cake was shared-- to my great joy-- by a cartoon dragon who no one seems to remember any more, but has always been associated with the dessert in my head.

The upside down cake is essentially a skillet cake-- begun on the stove top and finished in the oven. Plums, apples, and cherries were popular topping (or bottomings, depending on your point of view) in the 19th century. The pineapple upside down cake, according to foodreference.com, dates to "sometime after 1903, when Jim Dole invented canned pineapple."

The Hawaiian Pineapple Company (now Dole) held a pineapple recipe contest in 1925, with judges from Fannie Farmer's School, Good Housekeeping, and McCall's magazine on the judging panel. The 100 winning recipes would be published in a cookbook the following year. More than 60,000 recipes were sent in and 2,500 of them were for Pineapple Upside Down Cake. IF the cake was popular before the contest, the Hawaiian Pineapple Company took that popularity and ran with it, running ad campaigns based on the fact that so many recipes had been submitted.

I had a very specific reason for making upside down cake this week. I had planned on baking one in honor of the birthday of someone who had, well, turned my life upside down. And turn it he did. It was an obvious metaphor, certainly, but I loved the fact that this simple cake held a secret. Its fruits and its sweetness lay hidden as the cake develops and are then suddenly--almost violently-- brought to the surface.

In a way, I'm glad I didn't make him the cake-- it's too sweet and gooey for my tastes. It is insubstantial. And the thought of eating one now makes me sick to my stomach.

Pineapple Upside Down Cake

This is as close to the original recipe as I could find. Typically, the maraschino cherries are placed in the middle of the pineapple rings before baking. I have chosen to omit this step. This way, garnishing with them is still possible, but I can immediately yank them off upon consumption. I dislike maraschino cherries. Intensely.

Serves: 8.

Ingredients:

1 large can pineapple, crushed or sliced
2 cups flour, sifted
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons butter
1 cup sugar
2 eggs, separated
1/2 cup milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup brown sugar
Maraschino cherries for garnish

Preparation:

1. Drain the juice from the can of pineapple.

2. Sift 2 cups flour. Sift again with 2 teaspoons baking powder and 1/2 teaspoon salt.

3. Cream 1/2 cup butter, gradually add 1 cup sugar; cream well.

4. Beat yolks and whites of eggs separately. Add yolks to creamed mixture, then add flour and milk alternately, mixing well.

5. Fold in the beaten egg whites and vanilla.

6. Melt 2 tablespoons butter in a large frying pan.

7. Spread 1 cup brown sugar over the pan.

8. Add pineapple, placing rings closely together in an attractive pattern.

9. Pour cake batter over fruit.

10. Bake for 45 minutes at 350 degrees.

11. Remove from oven, turn upside down onto serving plate and garnish with maraschino cherries.

12. Promptly throw cake away.

Summer is an ideal time for improvisation-- especially for those of us living in San Francisco. If the sun is shining for more than 30 minutes at a time, we get a bit giddy and wonder if we should just leave our sweaters at home and head for the nearest park or beach to get a much-needed dose of vitamin D. Long term planning is often shed as quickly as our layers of clothing.

Dinners are no exception. Last Sunday, I was invited down to Hillsborough for an al fresco meal in an impossibly rose-scented garden. The event had been in the planning for several weeks, owing to the varied schedules of the guests and host. All that was required of me was to show up-- with dessert. When the idea for the dinner was germinating, I had proudly announced that I would make cannoli because of some unaccountable need to flex the confectionery muscle of my father's people. Besides, I knew my friend Cybele, in whom Sicilian DNA also makes its home, would be there. I think I wanted to impress her.

For those of you with little or no experience with cannoli, it is about the least spur-of-the moment dessert one can make. The dough is made, it rests for a couple of hours. It is rolled and stretched and rested again. And rolled again. It is cut and fried, cooled and filled.

The day prior, I had the dough ready for preparation. The day of the dinner, I got as far as mixing the filling when, suddenly, it just felt allwrong. It was a warm day. Cannoli are for holidays. They are not for garden parties. The dough is still sitting on a shelf in my refrigerator, getting to know its neighbors, the cornichons and mustard.

When I arrived at Cybele's house, I showed her the cake I'd made, and the figs and cream with which I'd planned to serve it. I had planned to simply slice the figs, toss them with a little sugar, and be done with them.

"Figs?" she asked, "What about putting a little pomegranate molasses in them?" She took me into the kitchen, and poured two slow-moving drops of the stuff onto the end of a fork and put it in my mouth. It was a flavor new to me-- sweet, sour, full of depth. It was exactly what the figs needed to make them interesting without taking over the dessert. I learned something new.

One of the many things I love about this woman, apart from her warmth, humor, intelligence, and just-plain-great-to-look-at-ness, is her uncanny cooking-sense. She goes by instinct. She just gets food. It is something that cannot be taught. Not completely.

The dinner was a complete success. Boccalone salumi and Beecher's "Just Jack" cheese (in honor of our host) washed down with a couple bottles of cool Pinot d'Alsace, which fit in nicely with my current obsession with World War I military planning errors. Rib eye prepared by my friend Lyle (who often refers to himself as the luckiest man alive, owing to his partnering with Cybele), roasted, garlicky potatoes and mushrooms to smother- but-not-choke the steaks, accompanied by good, elegant bottles of Rioja. And a perfect salad of Asian pear, lettuces, and summer tomatoes ended the meal. Digestion-aiding conversation followed.

We were ready for dessert by sunset. Given the gargatuan nature of the meal consumed-- especially the 22-ounce steaks, I was grateful I followed my now-engorged gut and decided to leave to cannoli for another day. As I served out dessert, I asked for a bit of feedback, as is my habit with anything I make for the first time. I had mentioned substituting much of the cornmeal with corn flour. Jack rightly commented that "any more cornmeal would have made this a dessert for hamsters." I was rather inclined to agree. Everyone was in full agreement about the addition of the pomegranate molasses-- it was just the right touch.

This post is just my little way of thanking Cybele for simply being around. She is, in her own way, the pomegranate molasses in everyone's life- sweet, with just the right amount of acid wit. A blend of the exotic and oddly familiar, she adds a touch of subtlety and depth to everything she does. And, as if by instinct, it is always the right touch.

So, thanks, Cybele. You have a habit of making good things better.

Almond-Cornmeal Cake

The idea of this cake came from a recipe by Lorenza di Medici, who knows a thing or two about al fresco dining. And Italian food. As I made the dough, I realized it was going to be too dry for my purposes. I wanted something moist-- a word I detest but, at the same time, a quality I treasure in baked goods. Too late in the day for going back to the market for fresh supplies, I decided to wing it and make some major adjustments, in keeping with my own rigidly, self-imposed idea that improvisation was the theme of the day. Fortunately, it worked, and worked very well.

This cake plays well with late-summer fruits. I chose figs, but berries would do well, too. Or just a big dollop of sweetened cream and a good, cool glass of Tokaj.

Serves: 6 to 8

For Cake

Ingredients:

1 cup almonds, blanched and without skin
1/3 cup yellow cornmeal
2/3 cup corn flour
1/4 cup unbleached all purpose flour
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
4 ounces unsalted butter
3 egg yolks
a pinch of salt
powdered sugar for decoration

For Figs

Ingredients:

1 pint of fresh Mission figs
2-3 tablespoons of sugar, depending upon the ripeness of the figs
1 teaspoon pomegranate molasses

Preparation:

1. Grease with butter a 9-inch cake pan with removable bottom, lining the pan with similarly-greased parchment paper.

2. In a Cuisinart, or whatever you wish to call yours, combine almonds, cornmeal, corn flour, all purpose flour, baking powder and salt. Pulse until the almonds are crushed sufficiently to make a fine meal.

3. Cream butter and sugar until, well, creamy. Add yolks one at a time. The color should be roughly equivalent to that of a blinding afternoon sun.

4. Combine the butter mixture with the flour group until well incorporated. Spread into cake pan and bake on the middle rack of a pre-heated 400° oven for about 30 minutes, or until done.

5. Wash figs, slice into quarter segments. Toss them in sugar and molasses, but gently. Let sit for about an hour.

6. Remove from oven. Remember to turn off your oven. Place the now-baked cake on a rack to cool. Remove from pan. Please remove the parchment paper. Dust with powdered sugar when plated.

7. Slice cake and serve with prepared figs and sweetened cream.

CAKE by Camille Holvoet, 2008.

The recent opening of a gallery exhibition at Creativity Explored in the Mission District was a reminder of just how much San Franciscans love their food. The exhibit, entitled Tasty, highlighted the work of local artists who had explored the shape and color of eating in a variety of media. During the reception, both the small gallery up front and the large studio space in back were packed wall to wall with friends, donors and hungry viewers. It was the most crowded I’d ever seen their gallery. Attach the word "food" to any event here in Northern California, especially if your normal operations have nothing to do with anything edible, and you can expect to sell out.

In this month’s noise of food and more food, though, the art on the walls at Creativity Explored reminded me of two vital gifts, the same forces that pushed me into my own work and that inspire me still after all these years. One, the power of unleashed creativity and uncensored expression to reveal who we are as individuals. And two, the power of people coming together to support each other and help each other thrive.

Camille Holvoet, one of the studio artists at Creativity Explored, is known for her rich, lush oil pastels of cakes, pies and pastries.

If you haven’t visited the exhibit yet, please try to carve some time out of these waning weeks of summer to stop by and see the works. Be sure to linger at Steven Greeter’s Popsicles, Kevin Roach’s interpretation of meat in Pork Cut Chart, the vivid montage of green in Peter Cordova’s papier mache Vegetable Bowl, John Patrick McKenzie’s hand-lettered Tablecloth, Betty Benard’s Watermelon collage, and Camille Holvoet’s many cupcakes. They are truly stunning, and while I may be biased about the provocative images (yes, a few of those red dots marking sold paintings and sculptures are mine), I also believe Creatively Explored to be one of the most important nonprofits in the Bay Area. Their mission, to support the creative efforts of developmentally disabled adults, has been realized through an ambitious vision pushed forward with much hard work. In addition to offering a safe studio space and workshops for their artists, they promote their artists’ works at their Valencia Street gallery and in museum exhibits around the world. Like many mainstream, for-profit galleries, half of the money received from buyers goes directly to the artist.

I’d been lucky enough to help teach a workshop earlier this summer at their studio with Sharon Smith, one of many instructors who teach there and a friend who nurses her own personal mission to show the artists how to eat more healthfully. Wanting to offer easy, nutritious and delicious alternatives to the daily snack truck that arrives everyday at the studio, Sharon had asked me to assist her with transforming whole fruit into edible art.

FAVORITE FOODS, by Camille Holvoet, 2007.

It was new territory for Creativity Explored. A hands-on cooking class had never been on their list of objectives, but with some dedicated fundraising through Sharon’s contacts with the food industry and lots of paring knives, we were able to come up with four tables worth of colorful, edible art.

After the artists had a chance to sketch the fruit whole, we all worked together to prepare platters of rainbow-bright snack skewers. Melon-ballers helped us transform large, unwieldy, intimidating orbs into small, friendly finger-food. Oranges kept their peels, as color and convenience dictated the results as much as flavor, while five different hues of apples fueled debates on everyone’s preferences for sweet vs. tart. To my delight, I noticed that both green and red grapes managed to travel more directly to mouths than skewers. The patterns, shapes, textures and rhythms that emerged on each artist’s skewer informed a second wave of sketches. Along the way, we all shared stories about our favorite fruit.

The recipe for the day was a dessert dip made with three ingredients: yogurt, honey and orange juice mixed to taste (lots of tasting!) and poured into a colorful bowl. It doesn’t get much easier than that.

It’s a challenge for all of us to eat healthfully but especially so for adults of diverse development levels who may not have full kitchens, basic cooking skills, steady incomes or an attentive family. Thanks to Sharon, though, Creativity Explored has an instructor as dedicated to their artists’ physical health as their creative spirit.

CREATIVITY EXPLORED
Gallery Exhibition: Tasty
Curator: Judith La Rosa
August 14 through October 1, 2008
3245 16th Street (at Guerrero Street)
San Francisco CA 94103
(415) 863-2108
Map

CAKES by Camille Holvoet, 2008.

I have recently completed a consulting job with Poulet, deli/restaurant with a humble, kitchy interior. Started by Marilyn Rinzler and the infamous Bruce Aidells, Poulet has stood in the same spot since 1979! With the hopes of providing honest, healthful food, with a chicken slant, it is still owned by Ms. Rinzler and manages to makes heaps more food than the diminuitive kitchen implies.

A family friend, Ms. Rinzler asked me one day last Spring if I could look at some of their baked good recipes and help her out with advice and suggestions. I began baking 2-3 days a week alongside Lucila Hernandez, Poulet's long term kitchen manager, to test the recipes they had on hand, and re-work them to provide a more viable repertoire of baked goods for their clientele and kitchen staff.

"What is this consulting thing you speak of?"

I get this question a lot. The exact sort of consulting I do depends on what I've been hired to do. It depends on how much time the employer wants me there. Being the overachieving, A-type of employee that I am, I tend to give a little something extra. Throw in some extra information they might not even know to ask for.

At Poulet I tested all the recipes, tasted them with the staff and fixed what needed fixing. I trained and taught Lucila better baking skills and techniques. I created Excel spread sheets for keeping track of what we made, sold and tossed. Seasonal fruit was bought and recipes created around what was at it's seasonal best. "Cake mixes" were made well in advance, so getting a baked good in and out of the much used oven took less time. While spending time re-working recipes I got a feel for who did what when. I learned that if I did not get there before 7 am, the lunchtime dessert could not arrive until after lunch had begun.

At Poulet the most important item is the chicken. And with one oven working overtime, my sweet things stood in a very long line for hot box space!

Commercial cooking and baking is all about streamlining. It's about efficiency. As cooks we are constantly finding way to have our food be sent out of our respective workplaces in the fastest way possible. "What can be done in advance without hurting the end product," could be our tag-line.

Amid the costing-out, training, rewriting recipes, testing and re-testing, writing a newsletter, photographing, spreading the word and tasting, I was able to create some favorites. Because most of my training has been in restaurants, I've spent little time making pretty frosted cakes, pre-packaged puddings and tart slices. So, as many of you know, I had a lot of fun at Poulet creating these sorts of items.

Although right at the beginning I began working on the caramel cake. And because so many of you have requested the recipe, here it is. Of course if you took my if you took my caramel class, you own the recipe and watched it being made!

CARAMEL CAKE with Caramelized Butter Frosting

10 Tablespoons UNSALTED BUTTER, ROOM TEMP
1 1/4 Cups SUGAR
1/2 teaspoon KOSHER SALT
1/3 Cup CARAMEL SYRUP*
2 each EGGS, ROOM TEMP
splash VANILLA EXTRACT
2 Cups AP FLOUR
1/2 teaspoon BAKING POWDER
1C MILK, ROOM TEMP

*Caramel syrup recipe follows

Preheat oven to 350F
Butter one tall 9" cake pan.

1. In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, cream butter until smooth.
2. Add sugar and salt & cream until light and fluffy.
3. Slowly pour room temperature caramel syrup into bowl.
4. Scrape down bowl and increase speed. Add eggs/vanilla extract a little at a time, mixing well after each addition. Scrape down bowl again, beat mixture until light and uniform.
5. Sift flour and baking powder.
6. Turn mixer to lowest speed, and add one third of the dries.
7. When incorporated, add half of the milk, a little at a time.
8. Add another third of the dries, then the other half of the milk and finish with the dries. {This is called the dry, wet, dry, wet, drry method in cake making. It is often employed when there is a high proportion of liquid in the batter.}
9. Take off mixer and by hand, use a spatula to do a few last folds. making sure batter is uniform.

Place cake pan on cookie sheet or 1/2 sheet pan. Set first timer for 30 minutes, rotate pan and set timer for another 15-20 minutes. Your own oven will set the pace. Bake until sides pull away from the pan and skewer inserted in middle comes out clean. Cool cake completely before icing it. Cake will keep for three days unrefrigerated.

CARAMEL SYRUP

2 Cups SUGAR
1/2 Cup WATER

1 Cup water for "stopping"

1. In a small stainless steel saucepan, with tall sides, mix water and sugar until mixture feels like wet sand.
2. Brush down any stray sugar crystals with wet pastry brush.
3. Turn on heat to highest flame.
4. Cook until smoking slightly: dark amber.
5. When color is achieved, very carefully pour in one cup of water. Caramel will jump and sputter about! It is very dangerous, so have long sleeves on and prepared to step back.
6. Whisk over medium heat until it has reduced slightly and feels sticky between two fingers. {Obviously wait for it to cool on a spoon before touching it.}

For safety reasons, have ready a bowl of ice water to plunge your hands into if any caramel should land on your skin.

CARAMELIZED BUTTER FROSTING

12 tablespoons UNSALTED BUTTER
1 Pound CONFECTIONER'S SUGAR, SIFTED
4-6 Tablespoons HEAVY CREAM
2 teaspoons VANILLA EXTRACT
2-4 Tablespoons CARAMEL SYRUP
Kosher or sea salt to taste

1. Cook butter until brown.
2. Pour through a fine meshed sieve into a heatproof bowl, set aside to cool.
3. Pour cooled brown butter into mixer bowl.
4. In a stand mixer fitted with a paddle or whisk attachment, add confectioner's sugar a little at a time. When mixture looks too chunky to take any more, add a bit of cream and or caramel syrup. Repeat until mixture looks smooth and all confectioner's sugar has been incorporated. Add salt to taste.

Caramelized butter frosting will keep in fridge for up to a month.
To smooth out from cold, microwave a bit, then mix with paddle attachment until smooth and light.

The Caramel Cake is also wonderful on it's own. I've also been known to drizzle it with ganache, or serve it with whipped cream. You will be surprised how delicate the crumb is! The caramel not only adds flavor, it contributes to the cake's moist tenderness.

Enjoy!