Do It Better than Sara Lee

I fear that I might be setting a bad precedent here. First with the boxed brownie praise, and now I am going to confess another unrespectable crush from my childhood relationship with baked goods. I, dear reader(s), was mighty obsessed with Sara Lee pound cake. Truly. The cardboard label atop the buttery brick of a cake was held in place by a roll-up-roll-down aluminum frame, whose ridges I would ceremoniously pry up one by one until the cardboard top had been released from its holder, and I was free to dive into the cake. “Plunge” might be a more accurate verb since it better connotes the cake’s bulky thickness; Sara Lee never made a light and gracious pound cake.

I had to splurge for an egg beater--finally! It is necessary to have some sort of butter-whipping device, or a very strong and committed arm, to make this cake.

I must admit that I even had a favorite knife for cutting the cake. It was a mock-pearl-handled silver knife with brass screws and a serrated edge—it cut the cake into smooth, crumbs-intact slices. I used to spin circles on my family’s wooden bar stools, eating one thick slice after another with piles of Reddi Whipped Cream (oh, cringe again!) and strawberries if they were around. A few times, I tried broiling slices of pound cake with honey in our oven, but for some sugary reason the habit never caught on. In any case, that cake was the stuff of after-school dreams. Buttery as all hell and with a smooth crumb and a delightfully browned crust, I don’t mean to sing its praises so heartily, but my goodness, was it ever a mighty fine cake.

Good gracious. This crackled crust is the most delicious. I would slice it off and eat it alone were that not arguably an act of baking sacrilege.

Fast forward to the maturation of my taste buds, and you’ll see that I have come very far in my development of a properly discerning palate. Like brownies, however, pound cake has frequently lurked beneath my homebaking adult radar because I’ve had a hard time imagining the dessert in any form other than coffin-shaped and heavy as a brick. After making a few lemon pound cakes here and there, but not really liking them at all, I sort of forgot about pound cake. At my favorite cafe in Berkeley, I would always bypass the pound cake for a vegan cookie, a chocolate cupcake, or a few macaroons. Well, along came a recipe for cream cheese pound cake via Deb over at Smitten Kitchen, and I realized that it had been some years since I’d even attempted to recall the taste of such a cake. Suddenly those chocolate cupcakes I’d been meaning to make took a backseat. So did the lemon meringue pie, the pistachio-cherry chocolate squares, and the chocolate chip gingersnaps. I refreshed Deb’s pictures of the cake for days before I finally found a decent excuse (Lady Adventure Evening) to try out the recipe on some similarly food-inclined friends.

You can see at the bottom where the cake sunk a bit, but it didn't get gummy, just richer and more delicious.

Let me cut to the chase and tell you that there was not a crumb of disappointment. This pound cake tastes, looks, smells, and feels spectacular. It rose marvelously, and while it did sink a touch, I am convinced this was because my Bundt pan is ten cups when it should be 12, and so the cake did not have enough support. But the vanilla taste is smooth and inviting, the crumbs are velvety, and the cake is thick and buttery without being dense or gummy. What’s more, the addition of cream cheese makes a delightful crackled crust that is nearly impossible not to pick off and eat once the cake is out of the oven. This is a tremendous cake. I can only provide so much external feedback, because between my six friends and I, this cake for 12 was gone in two days. What’s worse is that this cake gets better with age, or sweeter anyway. I had a slice for breakfast with a heaping cup of coffee in the cake’s fortieth hour, and it was even more delicious that it had been straight out of the oven. Without further ado, I should present the recipe to you, with the suggestion to stick with the almond extract--overwhelming though I know it can be--and adapt as you see fit. I think it would be delicious with some crystallized ginger thrown in or eaten with some fresh berries. At ladies' night, we topped ours with mango, and if you were so inclined, I think a mango coulis would be good because you could get a spoonful of syrup with every bite. Seriously though, this cake is delicious plain, and with a twirl of honey and a handful of chopped almonds, you could have yourself a pretty impressive brunch contribution. Bake away and let me know what you think!

Cream Cheese Pound Cake
By Way of Smitten Kitchen

Here I must implore to you get a baking thermometer. I recently discovered that my oven is a whole 25 degrees cooler than it should be. This will be the best six bucks that Target ever set you back if you're a committed baker. And if you're not a committed or ever a frequent baker, I still highly recommend one because it's made my relationship with my oven tons more harmonious.

1 1/2 cups (3 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 package (8 ounces) cream cheese, at room temperature
3 cups sugar
6 large eggs
1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract plus 1/2 teaspoon almond extract
3 cups all purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt

1. Preheat the oven to 325°F. Lightly butter and flour a 12-cup Bundt pan.

2. Place the butter and cream cheese in a large bowl and beat with a mixer on medium speed until smooth. Add the sugar, increase the speed to high, and beat until light and airy, at least five minutes. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating after each addition and scraping down the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula as needed. Add the vanilla, almond, then the flour and salt all at once. Beat just until incorporated.

3. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and even out the top with a rubber spatula or by shaking gently. Bake until the cake is golden brown and a toothpick inserted in the cake comes out clean, 1 1/4 hours.

4. Place the pan on a cake rack and cool for 20 minutes, then remove the cake from the pan and let it cool completely. Serve at room temperature.