

We have been settling into January at the slowest possible pace, trying to hold onto that feeling we brought back from Italy. Calm. Peace of the mind. It didn’t last long, but then catching the flu somehow forced me to step back, take it easy and slow down again. Even if against my will. I think of my body as a high-speed blender: it goes super fast for a while, then it gets too hot and the safety switch turns it off. Sorry for the awful metaphor.
Back on track. So many things happened in January that I barely saw these weeks pass by. We booked our trip to Tulum for late spring – I am excited like a puppy, and would love to hear your tips! – and spent many evenings on AirBnb shortlisting apartments. In town at the beach, pool no pool, hammock or sun chair, taxi or car, bike or walking…We have also been preparing by indulging in one too many homemade margaritas mixed with whatever citrus was lingering in the fruit bowl. We liked the blood orange version a lot.
Anyway, after a first week of flu-foods – mostly white rice with lots of oil and Parmesan – the kitchen regained its full swing, with a consequent chronically overflowing sink stacked with dirty dishes. Some new projects also came up and kept me on my feet during weekends, but also left me with plenty of food to have for dinner. Still, weekends have been resting after all. I finally had the chance to meet two very talented women, in two new-to-me places that have immediately become personal favourites. For the rest, there was a lot of sitting around flipping old cookbooks and staying inspired, trying to leave the fear of missing out behind us.
What else? I spent two extraordinarily rainy days in Cornwall, where my first thought was ‘Don’t get pneumonia’, my second ‘When are we eating?’, but eventually left aching for more. Maybe I’ll go back in June, when the sun is shining and flowers abound and there are berries and rhubarb, and we can enjoy the sea. We also almost went to Cambridge on Saturday, but decided to change our tickets as we woke up to a snowfall, and resumed turning on the oven and staying cosy with coffee and cake. This cake. The kind of cake my mum would make, the only one she knew how to make besides crostata. The kind of cake where you would use a small pot of yogurt as a measurement for the rest of the ingredients. But a cake that has also some uniqueness in its classic form – and an eclectic background. If you are still with me, thank you. I promise I am getting to the point.
So. The thought of this cake started early this month, while chatting with Mehrunnisa at the London Book Review Cake Shop: she ordered the lemon rosemary olive oil cake, I chose the almond orange cake; but the thought of making a cake with lemon and olive oil and rosemary stayed with me since. For a stroke of luck, a few days later I had my first encounter with Meyer lemons: a revelation. A citrus with herbal notes of thyme and oregano ingrained in its skin – something so Mediterranean I could smell the sea all over it. The price (and limited availability) of this precious citrus forced me to be moderate in my purchase, and considerate in its uses. This is when the thought of that lemon rosemary olive oil cake came back, and started to take an unusual shape.
With Meyer lemons holding such an intense aromatic and herbal scent, rosemary wasn’t going to be needed. Olive oil, however, was a must. Then, inspired by my memories of mum’s yogurt olive oil cake with grated lemon zest, as well as by this beautiful piece of writing from Molly, I thought to include some yogurt in the batter to make it extra pillow-y. But I also wanted some rusticity in the crumb, from either polenta (like Emiko did with her lovely cakes) or semolina, like I went for. The zest of the lemon imparted freshness, while the juice was whisked with some powdered sugar to make a light, sticky, slightly sour glaze, which retained some of the thyme notes of the lemons.
And when Meyer lemons won’t be around anymore, I can see a combination of unwaxed lemons and fresh rosemary take their place and make this cake just as good in its simplicity.
Meyer Lemon Olive Oil Cake
100g (about 1 cup) unbleached plain flour
70g (about 1/3 cup) semolina flour
2 tsp baking powder
Zest of 2 Meyer lemons*
2 eggs
2 eggs
100g (scant 1/2 cup) caster/superfine sugar
150ml (1/2 cup + 3 tbsp) plain yogurt
140ml (1/2 cup + 2 tbsp) extra virgin olive oil
For the glaze:
Juice of 2 small Meyer lemons**
3 tbsp powdered sugar
*You can swap with unwaxed lemons + 1 tsp finely chopped rosemary leaves
**Or traditional unwaxed lemons
Preheat the oven to 180°C. Brush some olive oil on the bottom and sides of an 8-inch round spring form pan and set aside.
In a large bowl, combine sugar, flour, baking powder and lemon zest. In a smaller bowl, whisk the eggs with the oil until barely combined, then add the yogurt and whisk some more to incorporate. Stir in the bowl with the flour and mix everything until thoroughly combined, scraping down the sides to avoid lumps of flour.
Transfer the batter into the oiled cake pan and bake for about 30-35 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the centre of the cake comes out clean. Allow the cake to cool for ten minutes before running a knife along the edges and bottom to remove from the spring form pan. Transfer to a rack to finish cooling.
Meanwhile, make the glaze. Whisk the sugar with the lemon juice until dissolved. Brush over the cooled cake and allow to set for at least 30 minutes.



v, as always your writing is so evocative. i am glad that you love the lrb cakeshop as much as i do. it really is a lovely place. when my family lived in arizona we had a lemon tree on our patio. the blossoms were soft and floral and in the evening the smell would ride the breeze whilst we sat with the misters on. the lemons themselves had glossy skins and a mere scratch with a nail would reveal their character. effervescent but not in the way of sherbet. they were sweeter which makes me think they must have been meyer lemons. your mama's cake is just the ticket for these beauties! with ingredients like that, all you want is simplicity. x
ReplyDeletethank you so much for sharing this beautiful passage and this bit of fragrant memory, M! It looks like they were Meyer lemon, they really are local to California and possibly Arizona, so it is most likely. I am deeply in love with them, but they are so rare and pricey this was somehow a one off…but I am glad I used them this way for the simplicity of this cake really made their lovely flavour and aroma shine. x
DeleteI want to bake this one!!!!!!. I don't understand what semolina flour is. semola di grano duro? thanks,
ReplyDeleteBarbara
Proprio lei, la semola di grano duro Barbara! Fammi sapere come ti è venuta 🙂
DeleteE' venuta benissimo. molto buono e fresca!
DeleteSono proprio contenta! Grazie 🙂
DeleteOh Meyer lemons are my absolute favorite and I wait patiently for them each year. Their smell is so intoxicating! Love this beautiful cake.
ReplyDeleteHi Liz, they are a novely for me – they do smell amazing and are pretty addictive. Too bad we don't get very many here in London, and they are so pricey! But so worth it. 🙂 x
Deleteciao valeria
ReplyDeletesono stefano_London N16
mi dici per favore dove hai trovato i limoni meyer qui a Londra, vedo che li hanno da Tesco ma nelle due sedi che ho visitato io, nisba (qui in north london). vorrei farci una lemon curd e altre cose da chez panasse (e magari provare anche questa tua + complimenti, hai un bel blog).
grazie e ciao
s
Li ho presi da Natoora – negozio a Chiswick o SPA terminus market – ma ne avevano pochissimi e sono letteralmente volati via. Se tornano ti faccio un fischio! 🙂
DeleteHi Valeria, Do you know what Meyer lemons are called in Italian? Are they available in Italy? If not what would be the closest "relative"? Many thanks in advance.
ReplyDeleteHello, I think they are called 'limoni Meyer', but I admit I never saw them when living there. As a substitution, I would use classic unwaxed lemons and the tip of a tsp of fresh, minced thyme leaves. x
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