If you know me, you know that I am a dedicated pie person. Give me a pie, a tart, a galette, a crostata — preferably stuffed to the brim with fresh, seasonal fruit — over your cupcakes, your sheet cakes, your pathetic excuses for consuming gloppy sugar and grease that makes your teeth hurt, things of that nature. This is not to say that there are not good cakes — there are — but in my considered opinion, even sad, mediocre pies with cheap canned filling are better than mediocre cakes. Be honest: Would you really rather eat that slice of grocery-store sheet cake in the break room, or would you rather have a McDonald’s apple pie? The choice is obvious.
Despite being in no way actually good at making pastry, over the years, I’ve managed to work a passable pie crust into my cooking repertoire. I’ve made some gorgeous tarts, too. (Sometimes I regret becoming known as the family maker of gorgeous tarts because sometimes I just don’t have that energy during the holidays.) I occasionally make cakes, of course, because people I love have birthdays and want cakes, and you can count on me to never, ever use a cake mix. (Brownie mix, though? Every time.) There’s one cake I’ve nailed competently repeatedly — the lemon bundt cake in The Silver Palate. It’s my favorite cake, and I can even say that I served it at a whole hog roast after a Southern Foodways Symposium, and nary a crumb was left. (One of the Lee Brothers even praised it! Definitely the only time that will ever happen.)
All of this is to explain that it is extremely out of character for me to recommend any cake recipe. Like, every time I make icing or frosting, it’s a disaster. My cakes fall flat or turn out dry or slide off their tiers on the way to the party. I am a pie person! I know how to patch up crust, not make rosettes out of sugar. But this cake? This cake is a winner.
On Monday, I went to a cookbook club at the local bookstore. The gist is you sign up and buy that month’s cookbook, everyone has to cook a different dish, and you all have a potluck. Cooking has been a challenge since I quit drinking, so it’s taken a while before I felt like signing up. But this month’s cookbook was ZAYTINYA: Delicious Mediterranean Dishes from Greece, Turkey, and Lebanon, and I have no problem giving money to José Andrés, so I went for it.
At the last minute, I signed up to make the olive oil cake recipe, mainly because no one else had volunteered to bring anything sweet, and it didn’t look complicated. (A concern given the weekday.) As usual, I was baking at the last minute, rushing out the door to drive across town, and my cake looked nothing like the one in the book. It was lumpy (I knew I hadn’t folded in the egg whites well enough), and I was texting friends in a panic, certain that I would be serving an inedible mess to a group of strangers. I mean, look at this:
Compared to this:
Well, guess what? The cake was fucking delicious, and everyone gushed over it. Egg whites not totally folded in? Didn’t matter. Orange blossom water expired in 2022?1 The whipped cream still tasted great.
The cake is basically a sponge cake, except with olive oil instead of butter, but it’s soooo much less fussy. It’s supposed to fall some, I think. It’s rich but light, a little gooey. It’s like the best parts of an angel food cake, but without that dryness from so many egg whites. In short, it’s a cake that I actually can’t wait to make again — it seems perfect for lazy summer dinners, topped with whatever fruit I can be bothered to slice up, just right for when it’s too hot to want to roll out a crust.
Olive Oil Cake
Very slightly adapted from José Andrés’ ZAYTINYA
1 1/4 cup (250 grams) sugar, divided
1 vanilla bean or 2 teaspoons vanilla bean paste
4 large eggs, yolks and whites separated
3 tablespoons (42 grams) lemon juice
Zest of 1 lemon
1 1/3 cup plus 2 tablespoons (170 grams) cake flour, sifted
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons (240 grams) extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 cup heavy cream
1/2 teaspoon orange blossom water
1 tablespoon powdered sugar
Fruit
Preheat the oven to 325 F. Line the bottom of a 10-inch springform pan with oiled parchment paper.
Put 3/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon (160 grams) of the sugar in the bowl of a stand mixer with a whisk attachment. Add vanilla, lemon juice and zest, and egg yolks. Mix on medium speed until everything is combined.
Gradually add the sifted flour with the mixer running, scraping the sides of the bowl once or twice. After all the flour has been incorporated, keep the mixer running and drizzle in the olive oil in a steady stream, scraping the bowl again.
Transfer the batter to a large mixing bowl and set aside.
Combine the egg whites and salt in a large mixing bowl and whip on medium speed, using a hand mixer or stand mixer, until a light foam begins to form.
Gradually add the remaining sugar (85 grams) to the egg whites and continue to whip until stiff peaks form.
Gently fold the egg whites into the batter, in three parts, until just combined.
Pour the airy batter in the pan, being careful to not deflate it. Bake for 45 minutes, or until the cake is nicely browned. Test the cake by inserting a cake pick or paring knife in the center of the cake; if the tester comes out clean, it's done. If not, continue to bake for a few minutes more, and test again. Cool the cake in the pan on a cooling rack, then remove from the springform pan.
While the cake is baking, prepare the whipped cream. Combine the heavy cream, orange blossom water, and powdered sugar in a large mixing bowl and whip on medium-high speed, using a hand mixer or stand mixer, until soft, pillowy peaks begin to form, about 4 minutes.
Serve the cake warm or at room temperature with spoonfuls of whipped cream, fruit and a drizzle of olive oil.
Notes from the cookbook:
On olive oil: “It doesn't have to be the most expensive stuff, but since there's a whole cup in there, you want to use something high quality that's not too spicy.” I used a spicy olive oil because that was the only high-quality kind I had. You know what? It was still great.
On fruit: “This versatile cake pairs well with all kinds of fruit; try whatever is in season, like clementines, apricots, figs, or peaches.” The actual recipe calls for clementines, thusly: “Peel the clementines and separate into sections. With a clean dry towel, rub each section to remove as much of the white pith off the membrane as possible. Cut away the white center seam of each segment with a sharp knife or kitchen shears and remove any seeds. Then, using a serrated knife, slice the clementine in half lengthwise through the thick back part of the segment and spread open like a book.” I had no time for that nonsense, so I served the cake with raspberries, and they were great. Use whatever you want that’s in season or (looks halfway passable at the grocery store).
Notes from me:
I did not measure the grams of anything, and the cake was fine.
Do not substitute cake flour; I am just telling you now. It’s not the same.
You don’t need to drizzle the olive oil in as slowly as if you’re making mayonnaise, even if your muscle memory tells you to do so. We’re not trying to emulsify anything here.
I oiled the sides of my springform pan because it’s not nonstick, but you do you.
If you don’t have (or can’t easily find) orange blossom water, plain whipped cream will still be delicious. You could also flavor it with a little vanilla, lemon or almond extract. If you’re not serving the cake to any sober people, I suspect a dash of Grand Marnier or really good bourbon would also do the trick.
(Cindy Wall said it’d be fine, and she was, as always with things cooking-related, absolutely correct.)
Yum! Zaytinya is wonderful & your cake sounds delicious.
I wholeheartedly agree with a fruit substitution - removing piths from clementines sounds like tropical punishment
Sounds so good!! And let’s go to Zaytinya next time you’re in DC!