Vanilla Cupcakes with Pomegranate Cream Filling and Marshmallow Frosting
Phew. That’s a mouthful, that title, but isn’t it just the way? Sometimes you’re so full up of things there’s no way to be brief.
These were created for my a good friend in The Menopause Supper Club. We meet once a month to talk about the next stage of life, and we are all in various places along that line. She is officially done with the Red Tide, and it’s time to celebrate swimming to the other side.
But transitions aren’t usually easy, and we need to love our people hard through them. My way is The Way of the Cake, applied liberally and often.
So whether you’re celebrating a transition or struggling through it, these are for you.
Vanilla Cupcakes with Pomegranate Cream Filling and Marshmallow Frosting
1 cup milk (non-dairy works here — I use oat milk often — but don’t use skim)
Method
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Use 24 cupcake liners in two pans (this recipe makes two dozen cupcakes)
In a small bowl, sift together flour, baking powder, and salt.
In the bowl of a stand mixer (or a large bowl with hand mixer), cream butter with sugar and vanilla extract. Beat in eggs, one at a time, until smooth. Add dry ingredients and milk, starting and ending with dry (flour, milk, flour, milk, flour).
Add 3 tablespoons of batter to each cupcake liner (I use a 3T cookie scoop). Bake for 20-25 minutes. Remove and let cool completely in the pan before proceeding.
These can also be frozen at this point or frosted with ready-made frosting if you like.
2 tablespoons pomegranate molasses (see Recipe Notes)
1/2 cup heavy whipping cream
Method
Chill a wire whisk or the beaters of a handheld mixer before you begin.
Place cream cheese, powdered sugar, and pomegranate syrup in the bowl of a stand mixer (or a mixing bowl if using handheld beater). Cream together until blended and smooth, then slowly add heavy cream as you beat until fluffy. This might take awhile, so be patient.
Store this in the fridge while you prepare the frosting.
Marshmallow frosting
250 grams (approximately 2 cups) powdered sugar
1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar
2 teaspoons light corn syrup
2 egg whites
1/4 cup water
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Method
Add ingredients to a medium metal bowl and whisk to combine. Place metal bowl over a saucepan of simmering water and beat with a hand mixer on medium until the mixture begins to thicken (like marshmallow Fluff). Continue to beat on high until mixture stiffens (stiff peaks). This whole process takes 10-15 minutes.
Remove from heat and add vanilla. Continue to beat the frosting until it is completely cool.
Assembly
Start by cutting a divot out of the center of each cupcake. Do this by inserting a paring knife at a diagonal into the top of the cupcake and twirling to remove a cone of cake. Lop off the pointy end and set the now-flat top aside.
You can use a teaspoon to put cream into the center of each cupcake (easiest and what I did), or make a DIY piping bag. Place pomegranate cream filling in a ziploc and seal it. Cut off one corner and pipe filling into your cupcake. Top with the flat piece of cake you removed.
Frost with a liberal hand using a piping bag with the tip of your choice if you’re fancy, or use a knife and swirl away (again, easiest and what I did).
You can sprinkle with a little coconut if that’s your jam, or break out the blowtorch and add a little toastiness to the top. The smoky flavor pairs well with all of the other flavors.
Recipe Notes
Every component of these cupcakes doubles easily.
You can reduce a cup of pomegranate juice down to 1/4 or 1/2 cup and use that instead of molasses. You can also add another tablespoon of pomegranate molasses for a really punchy filling.
If you’d like a less-sweet cupcake, skip the marshmallow and slice each cupcake in half horizontally. Fill with pomegranate cream and put it together like a sandwich.
FRIENDS. The Great British Bake-Off (The Great British Baking Show in the U.S.) has finished filming their next season, and GOOD LORD do we ever need some GBBO camaraderie.
The Great British Bake-Off is the nicest competition on TV. If you have been living under a rock, you might not know that this show pits 12 or 13 bakers in three specific tasks, one weekend a month for two months until the final baker is crowned the winner and receives…
A cake plate.
That’s it. All the final contestants get the same bouquet of flowers, but the winner gets a cake plate.
Yes, the winning spot comes with some amount of prestige and visibility, but the relatively low stakes means that these genuinely nice-seeming folks are supportive and wonderful with each other. There have been some controversial moments, but in general, the show has maintained its lovely manner.
The Great British Baking Show also gave us Mary Berry.
She likes to drink, and she eats out the side of her mouth, biting the fork every. Single. Time.
Annoying as hell, but one of the things she does that is incredible and revolutionary (besides knowing more about baking than most people forget) she calls the “all-in-one” method.
When it comes to cake, Mary Berry doesn’t cream the butter and sugar and then fuss about alternating dry and wet ingredients. She dumps everything into the bowl and beats the shit out of it, and it all works out fine.
This method, my depleted state, and my belief that we all really need a fucking break, has inspired this cake.
Also, the fact that I have excess citrus in my ‘fridge even though I am not a fan of citrus. You can use whatever you have, to taste.
AND. This cake comes together in less than ten minutes. Seriously. So like the lovely people across the pond, you could theoretically have fresh cake ready by teatime. If you are currently entertaining children at your home or trying to figure out WTF to do with them, this is a great cake for them, too.
Mixed Citrus Drizzle Cake
I am a big fan of using what’s laying around, especially now that going to the store is not always possible. This recipe is all about pantry ingredients. If you choose to use gluten-filled flour, don’t beat the cake batter as much or it will be tough. Otherwise, have at it.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter (or spray with cooking spray) an 8″ x 4″ loaf pan and set aside.
Ready? Dump all cake ingredients in one bowl and beat with a hand mixer (or a whisk – your choice) until it becomes light and fluffy.
Pour/shovel/scoop into prepared tin and smooth the top.
Place in oven and bake for 45-50 minutes or until a skewer comes out clean. Remove to a wire rack to cool completely.
While the cake is baking, dissolve sugar in the citrus juice. When the cake comes out of the oven, poke holes in the top with a skewer and brush, pour, or spoon the drizzle on top.
Let the cake cool completely in the tin, and then unmold. Sift powdered sugar on top before serving. If you’re fancy and want to be very British, melt chocolate (milk or dark) and drizzle on top instead of powdered sugar.
Recipe Notes
The citrus zest combo is all up to you. I used all grapefruit, one grapefruit and one orange, and lemon for this cake. Mix and match with whatever you have. You are looking for a tablespoon or two of zest for a nice punchy flavor.
Juice is also up to you. If you have straight orange juice, lower the sugar a tad to balance the sweetness. All lemon? Bump it up to make it sharp (as Paul Hollywood says) without searing off your tastebuds.
I was about to let this blog go. Not the name, you understand – just the process of writing a blog every month.
But then…cake.
You should know that cake is the world’s perfect food, or at least in a three-way (tie) with watermelon and pizza.
I love it the best and the most and will eat it every day if I can. I believe in the power of cake for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Perhaps most importantly for the purposes of this missive, I enjoy baking cakes for people. I like to see their faces when they open the box, and the whites of their eyes when they take their first bite.
That last little bit is creepy, but I mean it in the nicest way possible.
Additionally, if I made all of the cake I want to make/eat, the fit of my clothing would become problematic.
So, hello, you. Let me bake a cake for you.
I have updated my “Let Me Bake For You” page to list the offerings that are available.
Since I want baking to continue to be enjoyable, I won’t accept more orders than I can make with love (seriously. I know that sounds hokey or saccharine or whatever, but I mean it). If you want a cake, stake your claim early in the month and slap your money on the barrelhead (or the Venmo or PayPal – the 21st-century barrelhead).
If you want to give a cake to a person, I suppose I could whip you up a gift certificate for that person. Get in touch.
And if you want something other than a cake, get in touch. I could maybe work something out for you.
Oh, and hey. Share this post with a friend, using the buttons. I am off the Facebook but still use Instagram.
You can also take pix of your cakes and post on Instagram with my inventive hashtag: #charmcityedibles. That would not suck.
This is about a delicious cake, and the creative life, and how they are intertwined with each other.
It has been almost exactly a month since my last blog in this space, and I think that might just be my rhythm now. I never wanted this blog to be a space where I felt obligated to post – where’s the fun in that?
Such irregular posting does violate the cardinal rules of Building An Audience, though. I also don’t stuff my posts with keywords (long-tail or otherwise) or have ads on my site. I have only just within the last year or so started putting the recipe in the title, but my titles still won’t win any awards (or drive much traffic, if I am honest, which I always try to be).
But here’s the thing: this blog, and the recipes I make and share IRL and in this space, reflect my creative practice as it evolves.
This year has been a bit of a revelation for me in terms of seeing myself, finally, as an artist. Part of that is due to a supportive partner who is, himself, an artist. I have not had a romantic partner who has ever seen me in that way. It would be easy to say that they were to blame, or they were unsupportive, but that’s not it.
It was me.
In the last couple years I have been feeling something beneath the surface, like there was this Thing That Was About To Happen. I thought it might be some breakthrough in this blog, or some incredible opportunity or travel experience. Although I have traveled and made some incredible food and had opportunities arise, that wasn’t it.
You know that feeling when someone keeps telling you something about yourself, and you sort of nod and smile, thinking you are agreeing when you actually are only taking it in on the surface, and the largest part of you isn’t all there, agreeing, even as you nod and smile?
That was me when Khristian referred to me as an artist or a creative.
That was me even when I told people I was a writer.
This year, the switch flipped.
I ended 2018 writing a lot for other people. Last year, I wrote the equivalent of five full-length novels for other people (and one novel for myself). This was valuable and good in that it financed some incredible things last year (trips to Amsterdam and Canada, plus a writing retreat and a piece of property in Canada), but at the end of the year, I was tired of writing for other people.
So I cut back, starting in February, and have been working on my own work, my own creative life, since then.
I attended an incredible workshop called Making Your Life As An Artist, set some goals as a result of that workshop, and have been steadily working at them since the workshop.*
I have been working on a real artist mission statement.
I am exploring new media, moving into the visual arts and seeing how that fits with my writing life.
I am submitting to publications, residencies, retreats, and galleries.
I am committing to spending more time IRL with people I care about or want to get to know better, and less time on social media (which sort of screws the whole driving-traffic-to-your-site thing, too, but that’s ok).
I am committing to my work, even as I make less money for other people’s work (but stay open to opportunities there, too).
And good lord. What a difference it has made. I feel energized by my practice and have been pushing past doubt and insecurity. I am still plagued by Imposter Syndrome, but it is a low hum on occasion instead of a daily shout. I find myself trying to figure out a better way to keep track of ideas, and I am exploring how I truly work best (spoiler alert: I am not particularly disciplined).
But let’s be honest (which we should all always try to be). I can still procrastinate like nobody’s business. I still have days when the Call of the Bed is mightier than the Muse. When the roar in my head and the worthless feeling and the anxiety start to creep in the darkness around the edges of my vision, clouding my ability to create much of anything.
Enter procrastibaking (not my word, but apt).
In the last ten days I have felt a bit listless, a bit unsettled. A massive anxiety attack, the first in months, left me feeling wobbly. Even as the visual aspect of my creative practice exploded, my writing has begun to flail a bit.
My simple solution? Bake cakes.
Bake cakes, and give them to people.
Bake cakes, and eat them for breakfast.
Take a long walk with the dog, by the water, then come home and have some cake.
I have made three cakes in the last ten days: a carrot cake, a lemon bundt, and this glorious bastard: the Smith Island cake.
Smith Island cake is Maryland’s state dessert. I blogged about it once on this site but was not impressed by the results of my baking and did not post them (just a blog with some links). Even the person who claims to be THE Smith Island cake master USES A BOXED CAKE MIX (which makes me sick. REALLY? Just makes Maryland bakers look like a bunch of amateurs. But I digress.).
But I was definitely casting about for something to take my mind off of my creative work. And this cake is a good bet. Consisting of eight layers with a nearly-pourable, ganache-like chocolate frosting, it requires, at the very least, a system for baking (unless you happen to have eight, 9-inch layer cake pans. I have two.). You need to time your cakes precisely, and you need to have a little something to occupy your mind in eight-minute intervals while you perform the oven dance of shifting cakes and cooling cakes and lining cake tins. I worked on my artist statement in fits and starts that didn’t allow me to think too deeply about what I was creating (a good thing).
IT IS WORTH IT. This cake was absolutely incredible.
The recipe that inspired it is from Saveur, with some changes. The cake is, as ever, gluten-free, and I swapped out the milk (mostly because I did not have milk and didn’t want to leave the house). Their method seemed ridiculous to me, so I changed that around a bit, too. Read all the way through before you start, then follow the instructions for best results.
Better yet: if you are local, I am now selling a limited number of cakes every month. Made to order and good for at least 12 servings, so you don’t even have to get your hands dirty. Get in touch early in each month, even if you don’t need it until the end, to reserve your spot. More details here.
Otherwise, here’s the recipe for Smith Island cake that will inspire swoons. #Trust
Smith Island Cake
Ingredients
Cake 3 sticks butter, melted and cooled 3 1⁄2 cups all-purpose gluten-free flour 1/4 cup baking powder 1 1⁄2 teaspoons kosher salt 2 1⁄4 cups sugar Milk: 1/2 cup evaporated milk and 1 1/2 cups oat milk (or just 2 cups whole milk, see Recipe Note) 1 tablespoon vanilla extract 6 eggs
For the Icing 2 ounces unsweetened chocolate 2 ounces semisweet chocolate (I used chips. Hey now.) 2 cups sugar 1 cup evaporated milk 6 tablespoons butter 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
Super helpful special tools: parchment paper, baking scale, cake turntable, offset spatula
Method Get ready: Get out two 9-inch cake pans and trace their bottoms on parchment paper. Cut out eight parchment paper circles and set aside. Preheat oven to 350°.
In a large bowl, combine flour, baking powder, and salt. In another large bowl, combine cooled butter, sugar, milks, vanilla, and eggs. Whisk to combine all wet ingredients well.
Add dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and use a whisk to get most of the lumps out of the flour (some will remain).
IMPORTANT: If you use regular flour (not gluten-free, do not overmix. You will develop your gluten, and the cakes will be tough and awful. Whisk until just combined, no more, than proceed).
Allow batter to sit and collect its thoughts for 15 minutes. While it sits, spray your pans with cooking spray, line the bottom with parchment, and spray again. Alternately, you could butter and flour but WHAT A PAIN IN THE ASS.
Stir batter until smooth.
Here’s where it gets technical. I used a baking scale to accurately measure the total weight of the batter and then divided it by eight. This makes your layers even and ensures you actually have eight layers (fewer than that and it’s technically not a Smith Island cake). If you don’t have a scale, each layer has a little over one cup of batter.
Move each cake pan around so the batter spreads evenly over the bottom. Bake for eight minutes, then swap pan position in the oven (left moves right; right moves to the left), and bake for another seven minutes (or until the cake is lightly browned).
Remove from oven and place in the freezer for 10 minutes. Remove cake from pan, and place on a wire rack to cool completely. Re-spray and re-line cake pans, then re-peat for remaining batter. I gave my cake tins a wash and dry after the second layer in each.
Let the layers cool completely before frosting. I started my frosting as I started my 7th layer.
Make the icing: Place chocolates, sugar, evaporated milk (should be the remainder of the can), butter, and vanilla in a high-sided, heavy-bottomed saucepan. Bring to a boil, stirring often and watching carefully.
I sort of forgot mine a little and neglected the stirring, but that forgetfulness was brief. I used a whisk to beat until it was smooth and shiny. Remove from heat and cool. I did not find this frosting to thicken much at all, which was absolutely fine. Don’t expect a buttercream texture, but it should be thicker than a glaze.
Cake assembly: Use a cake turntable if you have one. Place one layer on the turntable and top with 1/4 cup of frosting. Use an offset spatula to spread all the way to the edges – the layer of frosting will be thin. Repeat with all layers but leave the top bare (for now).
Place cake in ‘fridge for about 15 minutes, then finish icing. If the icing has gotten too thick to pour, heat slightly, then pour over the top of the cake and use your offset spatula to smooth the sides. The icing on the sides will be thin, but that’s ok. #Trust
Chill cake completely before serving. Serves 12.
Recipe Notes
I am a big fan of using what you have and avoiding excessive trips to the store. I had oat milk and used it rather than buy milk I would not drink. I have not tested this recipe with other milks.
I did not test this recipe with regular flour. As long as you are careful with the mixing, you should be fine.
*Making Your Life As An Artist is a part of ArtistU, and I encourage any creative people out there to take advantage of the class if it rolls into town. Even if you don’t go, they offer their materials for free – a free book and a free workbook. Check them out.
This recipe inspired by the Great Canadian Baking Show.
I just watched The. Dumbest. Movie. about unicorns on Netflix.
Call it boredom. Call it curiosity. Call it straight-up avoidance, but I clicked “play” and watched the whole thing. There goes 90 minutes of my life I will never get back.
Part of my clicking “play” on a really stupid movie is me floundering about a little, trying to figure out whatthefuck is next. After a month off of social media and with a few important deadlines looming, deadlines that have nothing to do with mercenary writing and everything to do with my own personal creative practice, my brain and body just don’t really know which end is up. It’s like riding a horse backwards, a little. Possible, but ill-advised.
Adding to the mental fog, this week has been a wild ride in other important ways.
Started off by putting my stressed out kid on a plane to Paris for a month.
Then I picked up my dog’s ashes and pawprint, which sent me back into grief, not just for the loss of the dog but also for every bit of loss from the past decade and a half – a long series of just having something or someone I love ripped away on a regular basis. In no particular order: A baby. A houseful of belongings. A parent. A house. A school. A husband. A horse. More belongings. A dog.
It’s a lot to deal with on a random Tuesday.
So I baked some things. It doesn’t really matter why or how, but a month ago I committed to donating four dozen sweet things to a writing conference my friend organized for Baltimore City College, and the due date for those sweet things was this week.
Two of the four dozen were Fondant Fancies, fiddly little things that required several hours of baking and fussing over. In conjunction with the other two dozen sweet things (individual Chocolate Covered Cherry Cream Pies), this baking occupied enough time and mental space to get me to the end of the Tuesday of Loss Remembrance.
And then after I delivered them on Wednesday morning, I took the remaining dog for a five-mile walk. As we got back to the car, sweaty and thirsty, I felt an overwhelming sweep of gratitude, even among all of the Lost Things, that I could bake all day for a friend, and then go out on the first truly beautiful spring day and walk through the woods with my dog. It’s a privilege and a blessing that I do not take for granted.
If you are feeling the need for making something special or avoiding something or just want to distract yourself with something other than a really, really dumb movie, give these a try. I didn’t find them too technically challenging – just time and patience-intensive.
p.s. If you want the recipe for Chocolate Covered Cherry Cream Pies, comment below the recipe.
p.p.s. Oh, and hey, if you like what you read, think about subscribing to this blog. You get one email when I post – that’s it. No ads, nothing more.
Dark chocolate, chopped (optional, for decoration)
Equipment: parchment paper, 8″ square cake pan, cooling rack, rolling pin, ruler, two rimmed cookie sheets, piping bag, squeeze bottle.
Method
For the cake: Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Butter an 8″ square cake pan and line with parchment paper, then butter the paper, too. Set aside.
Place butter and sugar in a stand mixer and cream with a paddle (this paddle is the best – not a sponsored post!) until light and fluffy. Add eggs one at a time, mixing to combine thoroughly after each egg.
Combine flour, baking powder, salt, and grated lemon rind in a bowl and mix to combine. Add to butter mixture and mix to combine, scraping down the side of the bowl. Batter will be pretty thick – this is ok.
Tip batter into prepared tin and level the surface with an offset spatula.
Bake for 30-40 minutes or until the top is light brown and springy and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Do not open the oven while it’s baking or it will sink in the middle.
Cool in the pan for ten minutes and then cool completely on a rack. You can make the buttercream while you wait.
For the buttercream: Add softened butter, powdered sugar, and vanilla extract to the clean bowl of your stand mixer. Use the whip attachment to beat until light and fluffy. You want frosting that is completely smooth and easy to spread. If it seems stiff, add some milk, just a teaspoon at a time, and whip thoroughly in between additions.
When the cake is completely cool, cut it into two horizontal layers. Spread a thin layer of raspberry jam evenly on the bottom layer, then place the top layer back.
Spread an even layer of buttercream on the top of the cake only and place in the ‘fridge.
Note: You will have leftover buttercream. Place it between graham crackers. Eat all the time.
Dust the clean counter liberally with powdered sugar and roll your marzipan paste to an 8″ square that is 1 /16″ thick (or thereabouts).
Place the marzipan on top of the buttercream and press down very lightly, then chill for another ten to 15 minutes. Have a coffee. Check your email.
Once chilled, remove the cake and, using a ruler, cut squares that are 1 1/2″ by 1 1/2″. Try to keep your cuts straight and neat, and remove any stray crumbs to keep the sides clean.
Set on a cooling rack over a rimmed cookie sheet (like a jellyroll pan). Place in ‘fridge while you prepare the candy melts.
Melt the candy melts in and coconut oil in a saucepan (or in the microwave if you have one – I do not), then transfer to a squeeze bottle with a wide opening (I cut mine wider).
Remove the cakes from the ‘fridge, and carefully coat each square with candy melt mixture. Periodically transfer the cakes to another pan and scrape the candy melt mixture that has dribbled off into the pan under the cakes and put it back in the squeeze bottle (use a funnel).
Make sure each square is fully coated.
If you’d like, allow the candy melt mixture to set (not in the ‘fridge – on the counter is fine) before melting some dark chocolate, placing it in a piping bag with a tiny opening, and drizzling all fancy-like over the squares.
Pro-tip: You can make this cake over several days, and finished squares are delicious for about a week (although the cake is not as springy).
Recipe Notes
Marzipan paste can be homemade, but I wanted to control some of the variables and so used pre-made paste. It can be found in the baking aisle. I have made my own in the past, and it’s worth the effort if the marzipan is the star.
Technically, fondant fancies use something called pâte à glacer as a coating. This is very, very similar to Wilton candy melts, and candy melts are widely available and much, much cheaper. I used vibrant green candy melts, but I also experimented with Mary Berry’s suggestion to use powdered sugar thinned with milk and tinted with food coloring. MISTAKE. Thin, too sweet, and flavorless. The coconut oil added to the candy melts makes the glaze more supple and adds a delicious flavor that complements the lemon, raspberry, and vanilla. If you want a neutral flavor (no coconut) you could use vegetable oil instead of coconut.
