Fresh Strawberry Cake

I have been keeping a secret from you for the last couple years. Partially out of embarrassment and partially out of the belief that I could quickly remedy the situation, I swept it under the cupboards and kept my lips sealed. The truth is that I do not know how to cook. While I know enough to fill the refrigerator and keep my stomach full, the knowledge and techniques involved in cooking often escape me. Take away my spatula and mixing bowl and things quickly slide downhill.

The ability to cook and the ability to bake are often entwined, but to me they have been two very separate activities. They feel different. Baking comes naturally to me; I understand how to turn butter and flour into something beautiful with little effort. Cooking, on the other hand, has always been a challenge. I fumble around fresh cuts of meat and vegetables, uncertain of myself.

My method of cooking is to throw a few vegetables together with egg noodles, top it with a fried egg, and call it dinner. While I do not mind these bland, makeshift meals, they certainly are not worthy enough to serve to anyone else (in fact, my boyfriend often turns his nose up at the strange combinations that find their way onto my plate). I am miserable when it comes to seasoning food, relying heavily on salt and pepper to rescue my dishes. Other spices seem to be beyond my culinary grasp.

My biggest pitfall, however, comes with cooking protein. Every time I place a chicken breast in a hot pan or grill, I radically misjudge the cooking time. I have to cut apart the chicken to check for a pink center (which there invariably is) as all of the juice runs out. I am excellent at preparing dry chicken. Moreover, I was recently informed that I incorrectly fry hamburger, rendering it to a nearly inedible rubber consistency (to my further discredit, I had assumed this was how it was supposed to be).

I did not realize how far I had fallen until I tuned in to the last season of MasterChef. Gordon Ramsey cursed out a contestant for frying an egg incorrectly. Since the contestant's browned, rejected eggs looked just as my own (beloved) eggs, it was another indication of how little skill I possess in front of a hot stove.

When I try to reproduce a recipe, I am fairly successful. To my own credit, I am quite good at following directions. It is when I am left to my own devices that my culinary skills seem to escape me. Recently I have been phasing processed food out of my diet which makes dinner time feel more difficult. While I do pop open the occasional can of soup or spaghetti sauce, the majority of my meals come together on the cutting board. I would love to learn how to cook, to understand vegetables and proteins as well as butter and sugar. To wield a knife and fry a fish fillet to perfection. Perhaps I just need to set aside some time to teach myself, to take away the intimidation and replace it with confidence.

Until I can cook a dinner from scratch that would make my mother proud, I think I will stick to what I know and love—baking. I like to believe this Fresh Strawberry Cake can effortlessly hide any shortcomings I may have in front of the stove.

Fresh Strawberry Cake has a bright, natural flavor and rustic appearance. Fresh strawberries are quartered and pressed into the top of the batter, which gives the option to choose how many or few berries you would like. Whole wheat flour lends the cake a subtle nutty flavor that makes the bites without the berries positively delightful. This may be a simple cake, both in ingredients and appearance, but the flavor is quite remarkable and worth experiencing.

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Strawberry Charlotte

During the last week, I have been spending most of my time in the kitchen, mixing ingredients by hand and giving my oven a workout. Halfway through my two weeks off from work and school, it is a welcome break to spend time away from the everyday grind, a chance to relax and get my thoughts back in order. Though I like to imagine that I will be productive with my newly found time, the last week has proven otherwise, as reality TV shows and sleeping in have sucked away more time than I would like to admit.

Maybe it is okay to let myself be lazy every once in awhile.

With more time in the kitchen, I have been playing around with elaborate, multi-step desserts, including cakes. While I love a good layered cake, I could not decide on a flavor, arguing back and forth with myself between fruit and chocolate based cakes and fillings. While fruit is lovely, it had been so long since I cut my fork through a thick chocolate cake that the thought grew tempting.

Nevertheless, after a walk outdoors with the weather still settling into early spring, a chocolate cake suddenly seemed too heavy for this delicate time of year. With buds just forming on the bare tree limbs, a sweet, light fruit cake seemed to fit the bill. After a walk through the local market, with pounds of red, ruby strawberries on sale, the deal was sealed.

Charlotte cakes originated in France in the early nineteenth century. They traditionally involve fruit purees, sponge cake, and custards or whipped cream frosting. This particular Strawberry Charlotte is not quite as the original cake, but the spirit is just the same. Instead of layers of sponge cake, I used my favorite light vanilla cake recipe and used a strawberry mousse to fill it. Lined with ladyfingers, either homemade or store bought, the cake becomes quite the sight.

While I did not have one on hand, a white or red ribbon tied around the middle would add a gorgeous finishing touch.

This Strawberry Charlotte is a spring cake that is perfect for all of life's celebrations. Layers of light vanilla cake are filled with an airy strawberry mousse and fresh strawberries and topped off with a coating of whipped cream icing. The strawberry mousse is made from pureed strawberries, which gives the cake a bright fruit flavor. The cake is lined with ladyfingers and graced with whole, fresh strawberries making this a simple, but impressive cake to decorate.

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Vanilla Cupcakes

Today marks my 24th year of life. Twenty-four seems like one of those unusual ages that's neither here nor there. I'm not old (though some days I may feel it), but I'm not so young anymore either. I have a bit of that sneaky thing called life experience that only career changes, extensive traveling, and a familiarity with the "real world" can bring. Even so, every year when my special day rolls around, I'm not sure whether I feel old enough to embrace that extra number.

Happy birthday to me.

Since becoming a baker, I've grown acquainted with a phenomenon known as The Baker's Dilemma. The dilemma poses a simple, but curious question: should a baker be expected to make his or her own birthday cake? It's true that a baker may bake a better cake than a friend or family member. It's also true that if they do make the cake themselves, they can have precisely the flavor they would like, elaborate or otherwise. I've debated this question back and forth with friends and fellow bakers alike.

Family and friends tend to agree that it is not only okay for a baker to make his or her own cake, but it's encouraged. I've heard confessions ranging everywhere from "I want to eat good cake, not my cake" to whispered fears that their own cakes wouldn't live up to a baker's expectations ("It's too much pressure to bake for a baker").

On the other hand, professional bakers seem to come to the opposite conclusion. After making a thousand cakes, baking a cake is no longer a novelty. It's work (with the added pressure to meet everyone else's expectations of what a baker's birthday cake should be). To a baker, it's the thought that counts, not the taste. It doesn't matter whether the cake is homemade or a boxed mix with canned frosting—both are loved and equally appreciated.

This year my mother and sister got together to make me my favorite cake, strawberry shortcake. It's a cake I've requested on my birthday a dozen times in my life and I couldn't be more excited to take a fork after it.

It took me two years to find this reliable, light, and moist vanilla cupcake recipe, but it is definitely a keeper. The cupcakes have a delicate crumb, but are tough enough to frost or fill with whatever delights that may strike your fancy. This is a true vanilla cupcake, made with pure vanilla extract (though if you are lucky enough to have vanilla beans on hand, a bean can certainly be used in place of one tablespoon of the extract). Watch the oven closely around 12 minutes; these cupcakes can over-bake rather quickly.

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