Good to the Last Slice

I’m pretty sure the first baked good I made that did not involve reading the directions on the back of a package was a pound cake.  It might have been biscuits, but knowing me, it was a pound cake. The utter simplicity of this old fashioned cake made it a good choice for a first try at mixless baking. 

These days, while I haven’t gone much further as a baker, I do enjoy an occasional pound cake.  I don’t use a full pound of butter/eggs/flour/sugar, but it still is a cake of abundance.  Since there are only two people in the house, one of whom doesn’t much like cake, I can’t really justify making it that often.  When I made one a few weeks ago, I resigned myself to the fact that I’d probably have to toss a good portion of it.

In the meantime, though, I’d enjoy a slice every other evening or so.  I’d set the slice to warm up in the toaster oven while I brewed the tea and then take them both and settle in to read.  The very essence of contentment.

The other night as I was in the middle of this ritual of preparation Matt wandered through the kitchen and asked: “How long does pound cake last?”  Realizing that it had been weeks and the cake had no trace of staleness, I had to tell him I had no idea, but it looked like I wouldn’t find out with this cake. 

Which was true.  I had the last piece this morning with a cup of coffee while I read my new issue of ReadyMade and it was just as lovely as the first piece.

The Sandwich as a Still Life

It’s October.  Time to start thinking about Holiday entertaining.  Not that I do much of it, but I like to think about it. I like to imagine myself offering my carefully chosen guests a platter like this:

This is from a section of Snacks & Sandwiches entitled The Sandwich as a Still Life. Which reminds me that the French refer to a still life as a nature morte.

My eye is drawn first of all to the raft of pâté coming into a beach of diced aspic. As I can see from the ‘making of’ photo, that slice of pâté is at least a centimeter thick.  Also, you are supposed to have made your own loaf of pâté and diced your own aspic.  What richness! What textures!  

Then there’s the swirling mound of shrimp. I generally find that one shrimp at a time is luxury enough and I wonder: Would it be possible not to get three shrimps per bite?  

Finally, wonders of prune stuffed pork and herring with beet salad aside, we come to the lower left hand corner.  What do we have here?

If you’re thinking that that big yellow yolk is a bit off-putting, and you’re not sure you like the idea of raw egg, just remember what caviar is. Me, I was more concerned about the shell.