Blood Orange Pudding Cake

It feels like we're getting to that point in the year when that glimmer of hope that spring is around the corner is just starting to form. Here in Boulder, where the weather seems to change its mind each day, we've been going through very erratic cycles of freezing snow and sunny, breezy warmth. Yesterday morning, it was so windy outside that I struggled to make it back to my apartment without collapsing. But come afternoon, the winds had reduced to a light, pleasant breeze, and the sun was making itself known. I took a little walk along the creek during that short window, which was when that moment happened for me. This is what spring feels like, I thought. That being said, it's predicted to be back to zero degrees and snowing tomorrow, so we'll have to power through whatever the Boulder weather chooses to do for the next couple months, but slowly and surely, we're getting there.

I touched on this in my post for the Meyer lemon cake, but I'll repeat it again - the tail end of winter, to me, is citrus season. I don't think there's a category of food that brings me more happiness. So in continuation with the theme, I turned to the blood orange as my next source of inspiration. After making this recipe, I may have discovered that blood oranges are (dare I say) my favorite citrus fruit. They're like the most vividly sweet-tart orange, but with an added depth, almost like a raspberry. Not to mention their absolutely show-stopping deep ruby color. Yes, it will stain everything in your kitchen. Yes, it is worth it. If you're familiar with Claire's work, you'll most likely be familiar with her Blood Orange Olive Oil Upside-Down Cake, the iconic cover dish from Dessert Person. While I am extremely excited to make that cake in the future, I was deterred for now because of the few specialty ingredients called for in that recipe, one of which (grand marnier) is alcoholic. Instead, I opted to make her Blood Orange Pudding Cake, a relatively deep cut from What's for Dessert. I was nervous about some of the techniques in the recipe, but the ingredient list appeared very simple (if you already have the essentials, you really only have to seek out the blood oranges), so I decided to give it a go.

The "nerve wracking" technique in this recipe is a water bath (or "bain-marie", if you want to be all fancy and French-sounding). I was nervous because I had never made a bain-marie before in my life, and from what I'd heard it felt very fussy and technical. I also have an extremely sensitive oven that will set off my smoke alarm if it gets anywhere above 425, so I had no idea how it would react to boiling water. But I figured I'd just rip the bandage off early. I had just gotten an 8x8 bar pan at Target for $7, and Claire says  that's an acceptable vessel to use. I also had a 9x13 that I haven't touched because I cannot eat anything that big as a single person, so I figured I'd put that bastard to use as well. Side note, on Saturday my mom admitted she got me a bar pan for my birthday, and now I feel bad that I got one a few days earlier, but oh well, I guess I'll have two. Whatever, it was cheap and I lost the receipt. If anyone is in desperate need of an 8x8 pan, you know who to ask.

The recipe calls for 2/3 cup of blood orange juice, from approximately four blood oranges. My Trader Joe's blood oranges were extremely tiny, so I had to squeeze eight of them to get 2/3 of a cup of juice. I'm not sure if it was the size or if I'm just really bad at juicing citrus (I don't have any fancy equipment for the job; just my hands). Aside from the basic baking ingredients (flour, sugar, butter, eggs) the only other unique ingredient is Greek yogurt. I found that compared to yesterday's banana bread, which also used Greek yogurt, it was much more detectable in this recipe (definitely a good thing).

This recipe calls for five (!) eggs, so maybe not ideal for this current environment (side note: my local Trader Joe's has literally stopped carrying eggs. My Sprouts sells cartons of 18 for $5, which I think is a good deal all things considered.) The whites and yolks get separated; while the yolks are incorporated with the rest of the wet ingredients, the whites get beat separately with a hand mixer to medium peaks and then folded into the rest of the batter. The idea is that while baking, the whites separate to the top and form a light, spongey cake while the yolks fall to the bottom and form a custardy, curd-like layer. I had never made or eaten a "pudding cake" like this, so I had zero expectations. I think these types of steamed desserts are more popular in the UK, but they're definitely rare over here. Unfortunately, I definitely overbeat my egg whites - I'm still getting the hang of my hand mixer, and I feel like I was so overly cautious about getting them to whip up that I missed the cue. Alternatively, there could've been some grease or residue on either the hand mixer or the bowl that prevented the egg whites from ever becoming thick and glossy. It was a little frustrating, and I promise I've made good meringues in the past, but I don't think it affected the end result too much in this particular recipe. Luckily (or not, because I think they're kind of gross), I'll have a lot more opportunities to perfect my meringue-making skills throughout this project.

As the cake was baking in its fancy little water bath, my eyes were literally glued to the oven, light turned on, waiting for some tragic explosion to happen. However, it went miraculously well! Absolutely nothing bad happened while the cake was baking - in fact, I learned that water baths are a lot easier than I thought and not really that fussy at all. They're actually kind of fun! That being said, Claire classifies this as a Level 2 ("easy) recipe, which I'm kind of side-eyeing. There's definitely a few technical steps, like the whole egg white thing, that in my opinion bring this up to "moderate" category. But it's nothing to be too scared of.

Interestingly, although this cake only gets baked for 30 minutes, it has to rest for one and a half hours. This recipe feels like an anomaly in so many ways. But guys, here's the kicker: the cake is pink!!! I was extremely surprised by this, because in the picture in the book, the cake appears decidedly yellow. But I don't care that it doesn't match the picture - I think in that aspect pink is a lot cooler. After resting, you can either turn the cake over so the curd layer is on top or serve it straight out of the pan. I opted for the former, since I'm a sucker for things looking pretty. The cake gets topped with fresh blood orange slices. Since I used so many for juicing, I only had two left to slice. I would've preferred more, but so it goes. It looked pretty anyway. This is definitely a very visually appealing cake - the deep purples and reds of the fresh blood oranges against the very pastel pink cake really did something for me, as well as the geometric contrast of the square cake and pentagonal (or hexagonal? I'm bad with shapes) slices of orange. It's a very February dessert, if you know what I mean. And yes, before you say anything, I know the top is a little creased from the parchment paper. Whatever, I'll do better next time.

Like I said, I had never had anything like this cake, so I came in with zero expectations. The cake definitely separated into layers like Claire said, but they were more of a gradient than distinctly defined. The cake was very soft and a little squishy/sticky, probably the result of very gentle baking. It almost felt more like a custard than a cake - it was decidedly denser and eggier than I expected. The sponge layer had a very soft, springy texture but wasn't super light like an angel food cake, while the curd layer was very custardy and eggy. The flavor of the cake was absolutely beautiful - the blood orange came through clearly and sharply, and didn't become dulled or muted like citrus sometimes can in a baked dessert. Paired with the Greek yogurt, the whole cake had a very rich, tart, almost creamsicle vibe. After I finished the first piece, I put the rest of the cake in the refrigerator, and I actually found that I like it even better served cold. In theory, this is a very homey, comforting, puddingy cake, but it's also unexpectedly refreshing from that hit of citrus. This is definitely the most "desserty" of the things I've made so far - it's definitely a special occasion-type dessert, and a little rich to be eaten as, say, an afternoon snack. I couldn't really find any talk about it on the Internet, and I get why - it might not be that familiar of a dessert to American bakers, and the water bath might scare some people away. But I think it deserves a little bit more love from people. While it definitely took an initial bit of growing accustomed to for me, I think I'll file it under my make again list, if only for the reason that it looks pretty and that I want to beat the egg whites properly next time.

Overall Rating: 8/10

Although it's still decidedly winter (in a very bipolar Colorado manifestation), I am mentally very much in springtime, and this cake is a perfect reflection of that. Despite its custardy texture and use of winter citrus, it can't help but be its rosy, bejeweled self. Yesterday, while making this cake, I turned on Sufjan Stevens' Carrie and Lowell, one of my very favorite comfort albums. It's perfect baking music, and perfect winter-thawing-into-spring music. I really think you should listen to the whole album, but I think this deep cut, "Eugene", is particularly charming and fitting for my citrus era because it mentions a lemon tree. I know, I am a very deep lyrical analyst.