Something Guilt Born

Sometimes the memory of something baked, broiled or sautéed will induce languid thoughts into poetic labor. And for some reason, when I lay in hot water—literally, although I wouldn’t put it past my psyche to try it metaphorically—the provocation is almost certain. And so there I was, all stretched out corpse-like, when my eye caught the glimmer…

Glancing through low light, gleaming inside a green-tiled room, shone the cranberry colored rubies gathered in a bunch at the end of an intricate gold chain, bound to resemble the shape of a DNA code. They were there, carelessly yet deftly laid on the counter, dangerously nearing the soft slope of bathroom tile ledge. It would be a long fall for those jewels, clustered like grapes and dangling like a carefree child on the jungle gym—like a child who hasn’t yet fallen or who has learned that some fun is worth the underlying painful risk.

Like moving brashly. Like deciding strong-heartedly before completely thinking an action through. Like some things which in some instances might trigger self-reproach. But really, if you think more about it, who needs to fill hours in an already too-full day with lamenting deft acts? There is nothing wrong with living wildly now and then. I like to imagine Edie Sedgewick running “naked as a lima bean” for two blocks down New York’s concrete sidewalks before her friends catch up with her. Or of Margaret Mead’s wise words:

“We are continually faced with great opportunities which are brilliantly disguised as unsolvable problems.”

That said, my baking of this morning cake was guilt-born. Grabbing somewhat brashly the entire plastic sack of cranberries from the office kitchen, I realized instantly I would have to share the wealth via some tasty transformation of said ruby-like orbs, turning their bitter bite into the sweet burst of divinity that sugar does impart. I like this cake in the winter for many reasons, but perhaps my favorite is the way the batter, creamy beige, insulates the berries like a down comforter does in the dead of winter. I’ll take all opportunities to return to such a visual come mid-day tea or sunrise act of sustenance.

Tasted over already-finished coffee at Stumptown while late for work, lamenting the absence of a cinematic morning-date, scurrying to find an unoccupied computer that could actually give me the power of instant press, and finally deciding to stand up technology {since I, as it turns out, wasn’t—stood up that is} to write a note by hand introducing the once-raw cranberries to the office in their updated garb—no matter the journeyed circumstance, the cake still elicited the response, “Veronica, this coffeecake is too good.” And, in total agreement, I’ll leave it at that.


Cranberry Coffeecake
From Rustic Fruit Deserts from the lovely lady behind Baker and Spice

For the Coffeecake:

Butter for greasing pan
1 ¾ cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon sea salt
½ cup unsalted butter
¾ cup granulated sugar
Zest of an orange
2 eggs
1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract
½ cup sour cream
2 cups fresh or frozen cranberries

For the Vanilla Crumb:

1 cup all-purpose flour
¾ cup granulated sugar
¼ cup packed brown sugar
¼ cup sea salt
½ cup cold unsalted butter
1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract

First, make the Vanilla Crumb.

In a food processor, combine the dry ingredients and butter, pulsing until coarse crumbs form. Pour vanilla over the crumb mixture and pulse just a few times to combine. Transfer crumb topping to a bowl and refrigerate until ready to use. This mixture can also be frozen.

Next, make the cake.

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees and butter a 9-inch square baking pan.

Combine the dry ingredients in a small bowl and set aside.
Cream the butter, sugar and zest together until fluffy and lightened in color, about four minutes.
Next add the eggs one at a time, making sure to scrape the sides of the bowl after each addition.
Stir in the vanilla.
In three additions, add the flour and stir just until combined, alternating with the sour cream in two additions. Begin with the flour, end with the flour.
Fold one cup of your cranberries.

Spread the batter into the greased pan and sprinkle the remaining cup of cranberries on top.
Retrieve the crumb topping and, breaking apart the mass of crumb, distribute evenly over the cranberries.
Bake the coffeecake for about 45 minutes, or until sides are lightly golden and the top is firm.

Store the cooled cake at room temperature for about three days, wrapped in plastic. After three days, transfer to the refrigerator.