Lemon Drizzle Cake
Plus, the not-so-secret-anymore chocolate chip cookie cookbook reveal
Hiya! Look! It’s the cover of my cookbook. If that wasn’t exciting enough, it’s available for pre-sale. Like a real, genuine book! Ja, I’m a bit giddy. If you are able to order one in advance, it really helps. Booksellers look at advance sales to decide if they should order the book for their stores. Thank you all for your support along the way. You truly make this all possible.
My birthday’s coming up, so I am working on a cake idea, yes, for myself, but at least I know I’ll get what I will like. I’ll post that Tuesday.
In the meantime, I offer you a repeat of my post for The Contrarian this week, in case you don’t subscribe over there. It has the lemon drizzle cake recipe! Plus, you folks get a printable recipe and extra photos.
I explained to my 19-year-old son recently why I obsess so much over my garden. The kid was kind enough to appear to listen. Briefly, it means there isn’t a season I dislike. Summer is the easiest and most obvious to love with its wonderfully obscene riot of blooms. While everything is getting set to die or hibernate in fall, dahlias, pumpkins and mums (along with the trees, of course) put on their circus of color as if to warn off winter with a last display of grandness, and I tuck in crocus, tulips and daffodils in the hopes of seeing them again in the spring. Even winter, brings all the gardening catalogs shortly after Christmas, and I curl up on the couch with them and fantasize about how much bigger, grander, and more elaborate my garden will be (it never is, by the way). I forget that I promised myself I’d never order another dahlia, that I have plenty of seeds left from last year that are still good, and, by late February, boxes full of treasures pile up in a dark, cool corner of my basement
.
Spring, in all its mud-liciousness, brings a new surprise daily. Sometimes the garden looks different from morning to night. Crocuses, like big purple lollipops, push out of the manky leaf mulch. Daffodils appear in unexpected places, undoubtedly thanks to some squirrel who stole and reburied the bulb. Things I thought had frozen and died over the winter suddenly push up a pale green shoot.
This past week, I’ve been especially grateful to have plants to watch for and tend to. I needed respite from worrying about the short- and long-term impacts of the withdrawal of funds to major research universities and hospitals, the deportation and cruel mistreatment of green card holders, and the disintegration of the Department of Education. A few bright green shoots have sprung up in the scorched earth of the Trump-Republican wasteland, however, such as Judge James Boasberg, the crowds that ring cowbells and demand their representatives listen at town halls, and the impact consumer boycotts are starting to have on companies that have disposed of DEI initiatives.
I’m not suggesting we retreat from it all. We can’t and shouldn’t. But on this first full day of spring, I offer a gentle reminder to take care of yourself. Buy yourself a new houseplant, sink into a book, go for a walk and count the gosh darn crocus, listen to music too loud in the car, and, you know, you could make yourself one of the brightest, happiest desserts I know: the lemon drizzle cake.
It’s a British classic for a reason, with buttery cake that gets drenched in a cheery lemon syrup after baking to ensure bright, lemony flavor throughout. It is, as we say, quite nice. (And, bonus: very simple to make.)
Notes:
I’ve added white chocolate chunks to the cake. Do you have to add white chocolate chunks? Nope. But I love the way white chocolate caramelizes as it bakes. Do you have to drizzle white chocolate on top? Nah. But the creamy white chocolate is a lovely foil to the lemon.
Lemon Drizzle Cake
Serves 8 to 10
What You’ll Need:
For the cake:
1 cup (2 sticks/250 grams) butter, room temperature
1 1/4 cups (250 grams) granulated sugar
1 heaping tablespoon lemon zest (from 3 medium lemons)
3 large eggs, room temperature
2 cups (250 grams) all-purpose flour
2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon Diamond Crystal kosher salt (or 1/4 teaspoon table salt)
1 tablespoon lemon juice
100 grams white chocolate chunks or chips
For the drizzle:
3/4 cup (140 grams) granulated sugar
1/3 cup (80 ml) fresh lemon juice
What You’ll Do:
Heat the oven to 350°F/180°C. Grease an 8- x 2-inch (20 cm x 20 cm) square or round cake pan. Line the pan with parchment paper.
With a stand or hand mixer (or with a good old wooden spoon) cream the butter, sugar and lemon zest together until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Scrape down the sides of the bowl.
Add the tablespoon of lemon juice, plus the flour, baking powder and salt and beat first on low, then medium-high until incorporated. Scrape down the sides of the bowl. Lightly beat the eggs in a separate bowl, then add to the butter-flour mixture. Beat on low speed for one minute, then scrape down the sides of the bowl and raise the speed to medium. Mix until a smooth batter forms. Fold in the white chocolate chunks and mix until just incorporated. The batter will be thick.
Spoon the mixture into the prepared pan and smooth evenly to the edges. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes (times will vary due to your oven temps and pan color) until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean.
While the cake cools in its pan, in a small saucepan, stir together the sugar and lemon juice over low heat until the sugar has melted. Poke holes all over the cake with a toothpick and spoon the lemon-sugar drizzle evenly over the cake. Let the cake sit for at least 3 hours before serving to allow the lemon-sugar mixture to be fully absorbed.
To add a white chocolate drizzle: Melt 1/2 cup (75 grams) of white chocolate along with 1/4 teaspoon of vegetable or coconut oil in the microwave or over a double boiler. Jackson Pollock-it all over the cake. This is a cake that ages well. That should inspire us all.
I just had my 80th birthday and made myself a Guinness chocolate cake (Ottolenghi). It's the first thing I've baked since I broke my hip a few weeks ago, and I realized how much energy even a simple thing takes as I moved around my kitchen.
This reminds me so much of my grandmother's lemon cake that my mother made and my father decorated every Easter. He dyed coconut flakes green and circled the cake (made in a tube pan) with green "grass." Then he decorated the grass with with jelly beans. What a great memory.