Maple Syrup Cake with Toasted Almonds

My Canadian roommate introduced me to maple syrup when I first moved to Montreal. You've never tried real maple syrup before? We need to fix that. She poured a little on a spoon, handed it over, and my love for the sticky sweetener began. In the past, I drowned my pancakes and waffles in Aunt Jemima and Mrs. Butterworth's, but pure maple syrup would be my future. 

In Canada, maple syrup is considered a standard commodity and is sold in 15 oz cans, perfect for stacking away in the cupboard. When I moved back to the United States, I tucked a stack of cans of maple syrup in my suitcase. Some were for gifts, but most were for myself. After leaving the land of maple syrup festivals, I thought it best to pack away as much as I could before the only syrup I could get my hands on would come in small, maple leaf-shaped containers.

This Maple Syrup Cake comes from Linda Lomelino's newly translated cookbook Lomelino's Cakes: 27 Pretty Cakes to Make Any Day Special. I have been an admirer of Linda's blog Call Me Cupcake since I began blogging over four years ago. Her first cookbook was published in 2012, written in Swedish, her native tongue. I have anxiously awaited the day it would be translated into English. Her love of cake is pure and shines through in the way she creatively layers and decorates her desserts.

The English version of her cookbook is finally released today and cake seemed like the right way to celebrate. I ever so slightly adapted this recipe from her cookbook to suit the ingredients in my cupboards, substituting the almonds for pecans, and using brown sugar instead of muscovado. The maple flavor comes through so beautifully that I had a hard time leaving the cake along long enough to frost it. 

To celebrate a love for cake, I am giving away two copies of Linda's cookbook. To enter this giveaway, simply comment below and share your favorite type of cake.

The giveaway ends on Friday, November 14th, at 9:00 pm CST. The giveaway is open to U.S. and Canadian residents who measure their ingredients in cups. The winners will be chosen randomly and will be contacted shortly thereafter.

Edit: The giveaway is closed and the winners have been chosen.

Maple Syrup Cake with Toasted Almonds has all of the flavors of autumn. A little cinnamon, toasted nuts, and the sweet flavor of maple syrup form the seasonal medley. With maple syrup icing, the cake is complete. The cake recipe is written for 6-inch pans, but, since they can be difficult to come by, a larger pan could be used instead to make a single layer cake.

One Year Ago: Apple Crisp and Pumpkin Spiced Doughnuts
Two Years Ago: Pumpkin Waffles, Black Velvet Spider Cupcakes, Apple Cinnamon Scones, and Pear Crisp
Three Years Ago: Pumpkin Spice Latte, Oatmeal Raisin Crisps, Red Wine Chocolate Cake, and Pear & Almond Chocolate Spice Cake
Four Years Ago: Roasted Butternut Squash & Apple Soup, Homemade Apple Cider, and Fresh Ginger Cake with Caramelized Pears

Maple Syrup Cake with Toasted Almonds
Adapted from Lomelino's Cakes: 27 Pretty Cakes to Make Any Day Special

Yields 6-inch 3-layer cake (or 1 layer 9 inch cake)

Maple Syrup Cake
3/4 cup (106 grams) whole almonds (or pecans)
6 tablespoons (85 grams) unsalted butter, room temperature
1/2 cup (100 grams) brown sugar, loosely packed 
6 tablespoons (60 grams) maple syrup
1 large egg 
1 1/4 cups (156 grams) all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup (177 ml) milk 

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (180 degrees C). Grease three 6-inch cake pans. Set aside.

Spread the almonds on a rimmed baking sheet and toast for 8 minutes in the oven. Place in a food processor and process until the nuts resemble a coarse flour, about 1-3 minutes. Do not overprocess. Set aside.

In a large mixing bowl, beat the butter and brown sugar until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add in the maple syrup and beat until smooth. Add the egg and completely incorporate it into the batter. Gradually add the flour, baking powder, spices, salt, and finely processed almonds. Stir in the milk until the batter is smooth.

Divide the batter evenly between the prepared pans and bake for 20-25 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out with moist crumbs. Cool the layers in the pans for 10 minutes before transferring to a cooling rack to cool completely.

Maple Syrup Frosting
(yields about 2 cups)
3 large egg whites
6 tablespoons (76 grams) granulated sugar
1/4 cup brown sugar, not packed
4 tablespoons (40 grams) maple syrup
3/4 cup (170 grams) unsalted butter, room temperature 

Place the egg whites and sugars into a heatproof bowl set over a pan of simmer water (or a double boiler). Use a whisk to beat the mixture until it reaches 150 degrees F (65 degrees C), or until the sugar crystals have dissolved and do not feel grainy when rubbed between your fingers. Remove from heat and add the maple syrup.

In a large mixing bowl, beat the meringue until the mixture is cool and thick and forms glossy, stiff peaks, about 5-7 minutes. Add room temperature butter a small amount at a time. Continue beating frosting 3-5 minutes after all butter has been added.

To Assemble
Place first layer on a serving plate. Spoon frosting into a pastry bag. Using a star tip, pipe circles around the top of the cake, beginning at the outer edge and working inward. It's easier to see what you are doing if you start at the outer edge. If you want the cake to be higher, pipe an extra circle around the outer edge, on top of the previous circle of frosting.

Place next layer on top and repeat the piped circles. Place the last layer on top, cut side down, and leave the exterior unfrosted. Garnish with gold sprinkles, if desired.

Espresso Chocolate Coffee Cake

It was Sunday evening, the kitchen was a mess, and I was left empty-handed. It was my first weekend baking in nearly two months, and I had nothing to show for it. After traveling most of August and facing the whirlwind of starting a new school year, the longest I had spent in the kitchen up to this point was the length of time it took to fry an egg. This was going to be the weekend I would reacquaint myself with mixing bowls; it was the weekend I would remember why I held baking so dear to my heart.

Instead, I picked through the almonds in a failed batch of granola bars (I can never seem to get them to stay together) and stared at my attempted vegan caramel in disgust. When compared against the jar of bacon fat from breakfast, the similarities were a little too coincidental for my liking. I had reaquainted myself with the kitchen, true, but the scene was not quite what I had envisioned.

I keep a few recipes on the back burner for moments like this, scribbled on pieces of scrap paper and buried between papers on my desk. I made this coffee cake back in the beginning of June, a gift for my sister and her boyfriend's family. They were going to spend a weekend at their lake home and I thought a cake would nicely round out the weekend. As it turns out, it did.

But, when it came down to it, I didn't want to post this recipe. I didn't want to share it because I didn't think the photographs were good enough. The lighting was stark; the shadows were too dark. Perhaps it is a quality reserved for creators, but the longer I spend with something I have made, the more my vision narrows, focusing only on the flaws until they are the only aspects I can see. After three months of holding onto the photographs, I could find nothing positive with them anymore. My boyfriend tried to sway me in the opposite direction, but I had already criticized my work—myself—to a point where I could no longer see the worth.

 It has been said that artists are their own worst critics and I am inclined to agree. I often hold myself to an impossible standard with this blog, demanding only the best recipes, photographs, and writing from myself. After putting in a full work week and then some, sometimes "the best" is a little out of my reach.  I'm learning to loosen the reins, to lower the impractical standards, and to continue to keep blogging an enjoyable experience.

I sat down at the computer tonight, looked through the photographs again, and laughed at myself. With some time to clear my head, the flaws I couldn't escape from earlier seemed to fade away. I had forgotten what this cake was all about, what this blog was all about. Food is about sharing and togetherness. It is about experiencing and expressing joy with the ones that you love. It doesn't have to be pretentious or perfect—the intentions just have to be true.

I lost sight of that for a moment and it seems silly to admit all the trouble that happened over a simple coffee cake. If ever I should lose my way again, please point me back to this imperfectly perfect cake and remind me, softly, of why we gather here. 

Espresso Chocolate Coffee Cake is a simple cake for everyday occasions. The base is a buttery cake made rich with the addition of sour cream. An espresso cinnamon topping is sprinkled on the top and in the center of the cake to add a burst of flavor. Since I can never leave well enough alone, I sprinkled chocolate chips with the topping, complementing the flavors already present. Serve this cake with a cup of coffee or a glass of milk and you cannot go wrong.

One Year Ago: Chocolate Banana Chip Cookies and Vanilla Bean Malt Cake
Two Years Ago: Dark & Stormy (with Ginger Ale), Blueberry Cream Cheese Cupcakes, S'mores Pancakes, and Maple Roasted Peaches with Coconut Whipped Cream
Three Years Ago: Plum Clafouti, Basic Pie Crust, Banana Cake with Chocolate Glaze, and S'mores Pie
Four Years Ago: Dark Chocolate Raspberry Oatmeal Muffins, Brown Sugar Coconut Bubble Tea, and Whole Wheat Baguettes

Espresso Chocolate Coffee Cake

Yields 10-inch bundt cake

For Cake:
1/2 cup (113 grams) butter, room temperature
3/4 cup (150 grams) granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1 cup (228 grams) sour cream (or plain yogurt)
2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
2 cups (250 grams) all-purpose flour

For Topping:
1/3 cup (66 grams) granulated sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 tablespoon espresso powder
6 ounces (170 grams) miniature chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (180 degrees C). Heavily grease a 10-inch tube or bundt pan and set aside.

In a large mixing bowl, beat together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in the eggs one at a time, mixing well after each addition. Mix in the sour cream and vanilla until uniform.

Gradually fold in the salt, baking soda, baking powder, and flour. The batter will be thick. Set aside.

For the topping, whisk together the sugar, cinnamon, and espresso powder in a medium bowl. 

Pour 1/2 of the cake batter into the prepared pan. Sprinkle half of the topping and half of the miniature chocolate chips over the batter. Pour the rest of the batter over the top and sprinkle it with the remaining topping and chocolate chips.

Bake for 45-50 minutes, or until the cake is lightly browned and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool in pan for 20 minutes before removing and transferring to a cooling rack to cool completely.

Lavender Vanilla Bean Cake

It was one of those summer afternoons where the sun beats down and the air swells with heat. A few years ago I was settling into a new apartment, unpacking the expectations and hopes of a recent college graduate. It was the earnest love of a new experience that lead me to the city of Montreal and the promise of the unfamiliar that rooted me. My heart and mind were open and waiting.

The summer heat quickly crept through the cracks in the doors and windows, overwhelming the small space with oppressive warmth. When the sweat began to bead on my forehead, I escaped outdoors for the hint of a breeze. During summer, the streets of Montreal are filled with colorful stoops and the fierce spirit of potted plants in bloom. While I thought the center of such a large city would be all brick and concrete, I was surprised by the amount of life, growing and thriving, to be found.

Back indoors, cheeks red from my walk, my roommate treated me to a glass of homemade lemonade to cool me down. A neighbor had gifted her a bundle of dried lavender and she used the buds to infuse the latest batch. Lavender lemonade. I was hesitant at first. The scent of lavender reminds me of soap and summer meadows, not sweet refreshments. However, I was in the market for new experiences and, though small, this would be one of the first. After I took a sip of the pale drink, my opinion changed. The subtle tones of lavender felt the perfect match for lemon's tart disposition. I finished the glass and wished for more.

Though I have hundreds of memories from those first few months on my own, this one has gripped me closely. Perhaps it was the heat or simply the beginning of a new adventure, but that cold glass of lemonade remains one of the fondest.

Since my first introduction to both flora and food, I have become smitten with the combination. I am often searching for new ways to combine herbs and floral scents with my favorite desserts. The key to baking with flowers or herbs is to keep it subtle—too much and it quickly becomes overpowering. Chocolate cupcakes infused with lavender buds and peaches cooked down with thyme are a couple of my recent favorites. And, as always, recreating that memorable lavender lemonade.

Until this point, I enjoyed buds and blossoms primarily for their bold colors, soft lines, and honeyed aromas, but it had not occurred to me just how delicate they could become in food. The subtle aromas, the muted tones, the calmness they brought to a flavor storm of complexity—it was beautiful.

It opened a new door to how I perceive and interact with food.

This Lavender Vanilla Bean Cake rests at the intersection between my love for sweet scents and sweet eats. The milk in the batter is infused with lavender, adding a delicate tone that is neither too perfumed nor overwhelming. Both floral individually, the flavor of lavender compliments the vanilla bean well, but together they create a combination that is gentle, yet surprising.

One Year Ago: Cherry Almond Crumble, Nutella Espresso Rolls, and Brownie Cookies
Two Years Ago: Vegan Chocolate Cupcakes, Cherry Almond Granola, and Vegan Chocolate Chunk Cookies
Three Years Ago: Whole Wheat Chocolate Chip Cookies, Garlic Parmesan Pull-Apart Bread, and Cinnamon Raisin Baked French Toast
Four Years Ago: Blueberry Lime Panna Cotta and Grilled Peaches

Lavender Vanilla Bean Cake

Yields double layer 9-inch cake

4 teaspoons dried culinary lavender
1 1/2 cups (350 ml) milk
6 tablespoons (85 grams) unsalted butter, room temperature
1 1/4 cups (280 grams) granulated sugar
3 large eggs
1/3 cup (75 grams) vegetable oil
1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract
2 2/3 cups (300 grams) cake flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (180 degrees C). Grease 9-inch cake pans and set aside.

Using a mortar and pestle or spice grinder, crush the lavender to release the oils.

In a small saucepan, heat the milk until just boiling. Stir in the lavender, cover and remove from heat. Allow it to steep for at least 30 minutes. Strain out lavender.

In a large mixing bowl, cream together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in the vegetable oil and vanilla extract. Gradually add in the cake flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Mix in the lavender infused milk, stirring until batter is uniform and smooth.

Divide batter between cake pans and bake for 35-40 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Allow to cool to room temperature before frosting.

Vanilla Bean Buttercream

1 cup (115 grams) unsalted butter, room temperature
2 1/2 cups (312 grams) powdered sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla bean paste (or the seeds from 1 vanilla bean)
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons milk

In a large mixing bowl, beat the butter until creamy. Add the powdered sugar and beat to combine, scraping down the bowl if necessary. Mix in the vanilla bean paste, salt, and milk. If frosting is too soft, add more powdered sugar until it reaches a spreadable consistency. Likewise, if the frosting is too stiff, add a touch of milk or cream until it reaches a spreadable consistency.

To assemble, place the cooled bottom cake layer on a serving platter. Spread a layer of buttercream on top before placing the second layer. Spread a thin layer of frosting along the top and edges.