I’ve got a very special treat to share with my Patrons this week! These beautiful and delicate little cakes are full of complimentary spring flavors and textures. At first glance, this recipe for delicate entremets seems a bit intense. That’s because it is! There is such pleasure to be had in creating delicious components by hand, then bringing them all together into something small and precious, like little gems filled with the dancing flavors of early spring. While today a big trend in cookbooks are the fast/cheap/easy variety, and I absolutely agree that some nights warrant a quick dinner, cooking for pleasure requires a different mindset and deeper reward, and that’s why I do it. With more and more of us staying home in isolation, it's the perfect time to immerse yourself in more complicated recipes and return to a place of cooking as a pleasurable activity, not a chore to be finished as quickly as possible.

Every time I watch a competitive cooking show, I am filled with gratitude that I am not in such a busy kitchen with the huge pressure of time restraints. I love that I can break a recipe down into component parts and bring it together over the course of a couple of days of manageable work, and that time will do a lot of it for me. 

I watch cakes iced while warm melt and slide on their silky buttercream, resulting in disasters. How much more easy it is to ice a cake that has been chilled (or even frozen) overnight! I see dense breads that weren’t given enough time to rise, or the doughy centers indicating not enough time in the oven. How lovely it is to let the dough take its time, to monitor its rising on the kitchen counter while I busy myself with other projects or do the dishes. I see pasta dough rolled right after mixing, with no rest for the gluten to absorb the moisture and make the dough smooth and strong. Just a half hour’s nap for both the dough and me results in much finer pasta and cheerful mood. 

Food takes time. It takes space. Like us, sometimes it needs to rest, sometimes it needs to be fed, sometimes it needs to chill out for a while. Cutting out those steps for the sake of ease is understandable, but oh so limiting. If you are struggling to get pie crust to behave or bread to rise or to get a rich enough broth from those bones, give them time. Take a step back. Acknowledge that not every recipe can be made in half an hour - and that cutting shortcuts in time can lead to some serious frustrations. You’ll spend just as much time trying to get icing to stay in place on a warm cake as you would spend chilling it and frosting it when it is cool. 

More and more, we are used to instant gratification. Pizza delivery. Baking mixes. Frozen meals. The internet. Homemade food doesn’t always fit that model, though, and to try to force it in there sacrifices much of the joy and engagement you could feel while making a recipe that is so much more special than a 3-ingredient weeknight special. As we all grapple with a changing world and new limitations, I'd like to challenge you to find gratification in the process of creation, to find pleasure in the steps along the way.

As the saying goes “take time to smell the roses.” Whether you are foraging, cooking, or admiring artwork, allow yourself those precious little moments getting lost in the wonder.  Come with me into the gardens and fields, the landscapes worthy of an impressionist painter or a fairytale. Let us walk, not rushed, and admire all of the little beautiful things popping up this time of year. Let’s gently gather until our baskets are filled with tastes of the wild. Then, let’s head to the kitchen, put on some relaxing music, and give something so precious the time and attention it deserves! 

These beautiful little spring cakes are the love child of two classic recipes: the Swedish prinsesstårta (which has layers of cake, jam, vanilla custard, and whipped cream topped with a thin layer of bright green marzipan) and Monet’s favorite birthday cake, Le Gâteau Vert (with a pistachio sponge, pistachio cream, pistachio marzipan, and spinach-tinted green icing, all adorned with edible flowers.) Both of these indulgent cakes sing of springtime with their verdant colors and floral decorations! But I wanted them to sing of springtime here, in the landscape I love so much. 

One of the earliest flowers to bloom are the forsythia bushes, which appear almost overnight as bright yellow beacons of spring and hope! Not only are forsythia absolutely lovely, they also have a bewitching fragrance, like fresh banana and rootbeer and lots of sunshine. These delicate spring tea cakes are an ode to that floral interpretation, with forsythia jam, banana filling, and delightful forsythia cream filling.

You can find all of the components for this delightful recipe here. If you’d like to learn more about my Patreon program, just head to this page to see what it’s all about. Oh, and patrons - I have a fun surprise for you coming soon. Prepare yourself ;)

Love what you’ve read here? Don’t forget to Subscribe to get frequent updates of new posts!

Huge thanks to my Patrons that make sharing all of these lovely posts with you possible (without all of the pop-ups and ads that make browsing other blogs so annoying). If you’re feeling generous, you too can support the wonder with a monthly contribution of your choice. Even $1 helps a lot! Your donation will help to fund this blog as well as my surprise free events and gifts for strangers. Learn more about this program at the link below:

New to foraging? Learn more about ethical and safe foraging (plus how to get started) here!