As it stands, I’m not much for honey.
But you know what I am one for? Honey-whipped cream, in a cold metal bowl fresh for the whisking. Taking turns getting elbow cramps with a daughter, both faux-complaining, knowing all the well we’re better for the wait.
The cake itself was lovely and light, a perfect bounce, an ideal spring dessert. But after taste-testing the precise ingredients the recipe called for, Bee and I decided we were in the mood for something… heavier.
(In all manners of dessert: when are we not?)
We propped open the fridge door and pulled out a slew of jars, cartons, tinctures. Unsure of what we were looking for, to be fair, but we’d know it when we saw it.
And then: Luxardo.
We whisked and whipped and chopped, and in no time flat, a happy spread of maraschino cream sat proudly atop our own second slices. Third? We’ll never tell.
Friends: this is the cake to bake the day the weather turns, when you first catch a springbird’s song after you let the dog out to pee. It’s the cake to bake when your husband sends you the message “Last minute meeting, OK with you?” and you respond with a thumb’s up, find the wildlflower honey from the back of the pantry, preheat the oven. It’s a cake he can balance on the floor mats of your old Toyota Echo, quietly jostling at every left turn, en route to hard-working church volunteers in need of some sunshine.
But also: it’s the cake you bake when you’ve lost a sliver of hope through a long, dark winter.
And it’s the cake you bake when you’ve found it again, right here in the throes of the daily.
-Recipe is from this book, a fast fave.
-For the curious, any variation of honey will do. We used wildflower honey, but I’m betting orange blossom would be killer and I’ve got my eye on testing the whole lot of these next (turmeric for a sick day, yes?).
-Would you believe this was my first time hand-whipping cream? Call me Laura Ingalls, and stat.
p.s. Up next: the chocolatiest chocolate cake you ever did see. Also: what are you baking? I want to hear everything.