I almost didn't post this recipe. I made this loaf cake yesterday after an impulse berry shopping spree and it could barely hold itself up with the weight of its ingredients. It came out slightly sunken, and definitely not the pretty little loaf you want to bring to a summer picnic. But the thing is, I can't stop eating it.
Let's back up a little: Tomorrow marks the beginning of the lockdown restrictions lifting in France, and our little neighborhood is absolutely buzzing with excitement. We are still encouraged to limit our outings as much as possible, practice social distancing, etc., but at least we can leave the house without a self-authorized permission slip (ah, French bureaucracy). I've never been so excited to take a walk between the hours of 10-7. Maybe I'll even exercise?
Anwho, carried away by deconfinement fever, I went by the produce market yesterday (wait for it). . . without a list! I know. And guess what happened? Obviously, I got enticed by the smell of gariguette strawberries (aka the queen of French strawberries) which actually wafted through my mask, and then at the last second added a barquette of pre-peak-season blackberries to my purchase as well. Next to the produce market is a flower shop that just reopened, and since I was already indulging, I also swung by there and picked up the cutest thyme plant you've ever seen. (Thyme is the cutest herb. I will fight anyone who disagrees.)
I hadn't even made it home before the recipe wheels started turning, a manic state of mind which Laur refers to as "recipe brain". As I've written before, I love the combination of herby and sweet, particularly when it comes to herb and fruit pairings. I already had raspberries at home, which meant that I had the ideal berry triumvirate, plus my berry-pairing secret weapon: fresh thyme. I used Smitten Kitchen's Lemon Yogurt Anything Cake (originally adapted from the Barefoot Contessa herself) as a springboard and set about infusing as many elements as I possibly could with thyme. Fresh thyme, unlike dried, is a rather understated herb when cooked, so if you're wary about eating an overly herby cake, don't worry. Even with the three different herb-infused elements I added, only a hint of thyme comes through in the final cake. In fact, I may add even more next time I bake it.
Halfway between custard and cake, this loaf is actually fairly healthy. It's relatively low in sugar for a cake, most of the fat in it is yogurt, and it's packed with fresh fruit, lifted by the tartness of the lemon. Even though it's meant to be a very moist cake, I think I'll rework it at some point to be a more structurally sound. I think part of my downfall was cutting the blackberries into smaller pieces, releasing more moisture, and only halfheartedly patting the strawberries dry after I washed and cut them. I also substituted almond flour for about half of the regular flour, which provides a less stable texture, and the yogurt in France tends to be a lot less thick than what I used to buy in the States. I think you'll have much more luck if you take care in drying your berries, use regular flour, buy the thickest yogurt possible, and let it bake longer than you think you should (there is literally no way to dry out this cake). As you know, my oven is a beast straight out of Dante's Inferno, so I had to take it out earlier than I wanted for fear of burning the outside, even with foil on.
Again, I do plan to rework the recipe in the future and will post an updated version when I do. However, if you are an impatient baker like me and just want a vehicle to consume as many berries as possible, as soon as possible – this cake is for you.
Ingredients
Makes 1 large loaf (20 x 10 x 6 cm or 8.5 x 4.5 x 2.5 in)
190 g (1.5 cups) all-purpose flour, OR 90 g almond flour and 100 g all-purpose flour, plus extra handful of flour to coat fruit 11 g (2 tsp) baking powder (1 full sachet of French levure chimique) 1/2 tsp salt 230 g (1 cup) plain whole-milk yogurt - preferably Greek or other thick kind 150 g (3/4 cup) sugar, plus 1 tbsp for the syrup 3 eggs - preferably extra-large 2 organic lemons - zest of both, juice of 1 for the syrup 1/2 tsp vanilla extract 120 ml (1/2 cup) olive oil Bunch of fresh organic thyme About 255 g (1.5 cups) of fresh or frozen berries: I used about half strawberries (hulled and quartered), 1/4 blackberries, and 1/4 raspberries (you could also use frozen)
Steps
Place 3-4 sprigs of thyme on a cutting board and gently roll them with a rolling pin just enough to release their oils. They should smell fragrant but not be crushed.
Add thyme to oil in a small saucepan and place on very low heat. Heat for 5-10 minutes and keep the heat low enough that the oil never simmers. Remove from heat and let cool completely, leaving the thyme in the oil. When you are ready to use it, strain out the thyme. TIP: You can do this step the day before if you'd like, but it was cool enough to add to the batter when I followed the rest of the recipe at a very leisurely pace.
Wash the berries gently: I rinse strawberries directly under the tap, but I put raspberries and blackberries into a bowl filled with water so I soak and drain them more gently. Hull and quarter strawberries, but leave raspberries and blackberries whole. Pat dry very thoroughly with a paper towel and/or leave to air dry in a single layer.
Preheat oven to 160º C/350º F. Grease and line loaf pan with parchment paper.
Add sugar to a mixing bowl and zest lemon directly on top. Add the leaves of 1-2 more sprigs of thyme (about 1/2 - 1 tbsp) and use your fingers to rub the zest and thyme leaves into the sugar. This will help infuse the aromatic flavors into the sugar.
Mix flour, baking powder, and salt together in one bowl and set aside.
In another large bowl, whisk together the yogurt, eggs, vanilla, thyme-infused oil, and sugar. Add the dry ingredients little by little until combined, but do not overmix.
Prepare the fruit: Make sure your fruit is as dry as possible before adding to avoid sinkage, and give them an extra pat if there is any lingering moisture. Toss them gently in a tablespoon or two of flour until just coated in order to help prevent them from all sinking to the bottom of the cake.
Pour a little of the batter into the prepared loaf pan until the bottom is fully coated, again to prevent full fruit sinkage. Then carefully fold the fruit into the remaining batter, and add the rest of the mixture to the loaf pan.
Bake until golden on the outside and a toothpick comes out clean, about 50-60 minutes or more. TIP: This is a low and slow bake, and you can err on the side of over-baking. As I said, it is damn near impossible to dry out this cake.
In the meantime, heat the juice of one lemon (about 1/3 cup) with the remaining tablespoon of sugar and a few more sprigs of thyme in a small saucepan until the sugar has dissolved, about 5 minutes. Let cool. TIP: This will produce a thin, tart lemon mixture that will keep the cake moist for days. If you want a thicker syrup, add more sugar so that you have equal parts lemon juice and sugar, and let simmer for longer until it starts to thicken.
Once the cake is done, let cool in the loaf tin for about 10-15 minutes, and then carefully turn out onto a plate or drying rack. It will have a less stable texture than a normal cake, so be careful to support it well while flipping. Place a baking sheet or other vehicle to catch any drippings under the cake. Then, while the cake is still warm, poke deep holes all over it with a toothpick and apply the syrup with a pastry brush.
Try to let it cool before you cut into it, but hey–people in glass houses, right?
Cover and store at room temperature overnight. It's even better the next day.
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