So I know that almost the entire blogosphere is talking about the New Year, and their resolutions, and what they learned in 2012, etc. And I know that those who aren’t talking about it are either writing about how everyone is talking about the same thing (like me) or just plain fed up. I know. But I’m still going to go ahead and get my newyearism off my chest. But don’t worry, I’m not going to bore you with deep reflexions and the importance of life and the answer to everything! Instead I’m going to give you the best ever lemon pound cake recipe. Yup, best ever. I’ve been sitting on this recipe since Christmas Eve, when I made it for my mom as her present…yes, my mom is one of those people impossible to give gifts to, the only think that makes her truly happy is pound cake. She’s absolutely crazy for it, and she’s always begging me to bake her a couple. Because one just isn’t enough. But lemon pound cake holds a particularly special place in her heart, because eons (seriously, like 20 years) ago she baked one for my birthday party and it was the best cake she had ever made. Everyone complimented her, it was gone within seconds, the texture was perfect, the flavor unsurpassable…you name it. In her mind, the cake was something only angels ate, and she had been blessed with the recipe. Which she of course proceeded to lose. Because that’s what she does. She keeps things so well, they get lost. And I think there’s a little bit of that in all of us… as humans, we tend to keep things, emotions, experiences and feelings so well we end up forgetting where we put them. Be it that spare cash for emergencies you hid god knows where in your house to the memory of that horrible recurrent nightmare you had when you were five, tucked neatly away in your unconscious, the things we keep make us who we are. Just like that lost recipe holds for my mom that part of herself where she used to bake for her kids. So here’s to long lost recipes, memories, things and emotions. Here’s to finding them, organizing them, and eventually forgetting all over again where they were. Here’s to having a year full of new things to keep, and lose. And to looking back into the year gone by, to recognize what we’re made of, even if we’re made of recipes, lost or found.
On a side note: this recipe comes from Dozen Flours, it’s Julia’s recipe for a better than starbucks poundcake, and trust me, it’s waaaaay better. Even if it’s not food from heaven. All you’ve got to do is ask my mom.
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3 cups flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter softened
3 cups superfine sugar
1 cup full-fat sour cream, at room temperature
For the glaze:
1/3 cup lemon juice
about 2 cups powdered-sugar
Preheat oven to 325F. Grease and flour a 16 inch tube pan or two regular pound cake tins.
Zest the lemons and place the zest in a bowl with the sugar, mix well.
Using a very sharp knife, cut out supremes from the remaining lemons. (Supremes are the segments in between any citrus fruits membranes. For a tutorial check out this link: http://youtu.be/iqnhqxaoZxU) Cut the segments into small 1 cm pieces and set aside.
Sift the flour, baking soda, and salt into a medium bowl and set aside.
Beat the butter for 2 minutes at medium speed in the electric mixer. add half the sugar and mix well, scraping down the sides of the bowl. Add the remaining half and beat thoroughly. (It should turn pale and fluffy, beat for about 5 minutes) Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Turn to the lowest speed on your mixer and slowly incorporate half the dry ingredients, then half the sour cream, the other half of the dry ingredients, and the rest of the sour cream. Finally, add the segments and the juice that came from them. Pour batter into prepared pan and bake until golden brown, or a until a tester comes out clean. (About 1 hour, but that will depend on your pan and oven) Let cool on a wire rack.
Add the powdered sugar to the lemon juice gradually, until by whisking you get a thick, ribbon like glaze. Add more sugar if too runny. (It should fall thickly from your whisk). Pour over the slightly warm cake and let cool.