Sometimes the oddest things inspire me to innovate in the kitchen. These madelines were inspired by a moldy, water-logged ceiling, a beloved but long-forgotten item from my kitchen, some fruit on the verge of rotting, and a genius pastry chef.

A few weeks back, during the week between the end of bread class and our trip out West, our household of two (plus the cat) went into crisis mode because, we learned, we were to be displaced from our apartment so that our bedroom could be gut-renovated due to water damage from leaks we’ve suffered since we moved in.

Since we’d been wanting to redo the floors in the entire place as well, we figured that while the workers were in there swinging axes at the walls, we may as well have them take up all of the floors while they’re at it. This idea was practical in the sense that we might as well kill two birds with one stone while we were already being displaced, but was a huge inconvenience in that it essentially meant we’d be moving out anything that couldn’t be crammed into the bathroom or onto the porch.

I started the chore in the kitchen, carrying everything that could survive outdoors onto the porch. During this process, I discovered a ton of kitchen items that I’d forgotten all about, including my gorgeous madeline pan. Madelines…or packing? Hmmm… tough choice.

My favorite recipe for making madelines comes from Dorie Greenspan, and in her book, she provides several variations on the classic cookie, including a chocolate madeline filled with marshmallow fluff. I loved the idea of filling a madeline, a delicate, refined French cookie, with something utterly unrefined and American: marshmallow fluff, of fluffernutter fame.

But I didn’t have any fluff, which, frankly, is one of those non-food foods that have a viscosity and endless shelf life that confounds and frightens me. I did have a forgotten half pint of fresh raspberries sitting in the fridge, just on the verge of going bad. Inspired by Dorie’s filling idea, I added superfine sugar, and this jelly donut version of a french classic was born. Just think of it as Proust meets Homer Simpson.

And indeed, the finished product has virtues of both sweets; the delicate, spongy crumb of a madeline, with a surprise hit of fresh  fruit inside, and a sugary outside that will leave you licking the grit from your fingers and wishing you had another.

Jelly Donut Madelines
Adapted from Baking: From My Home to Yours by Dorie Greenspan

Be very careful when you bore out the hole for the filling, and be very gentle piping it into the cookie. I made the filling from scratch, but you may use jam from a jar, just be sure to buy a kind that does not have chunks or seeds so it can fit through the decorating tip when you are piping. If you don’t have a madeline pan, you should be able to use a muffin tin with the cups filled with the same amount,  just watch the baking carefully so as not to burn them.

Makes 12 cookies

For the madelines:

2/3 cup all purpose flour

3/4 teaspoon baking powder

pinch of salt

1/2 cup sugar

grated zest of 1 lemon

2 large eggs. at room temperature

2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

3/4 stick (6 tbsp)unsalted butter, melted and cooled

superfine sugar, for dusting

For the filling:

1 1/2 cups fresh or frozen raspberries

3 tablespoons granulated sugar (or more to taste)

1/4 cup water

Whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt.

working in a mixer bowl, rub the sugar and lemon zest together with your fingertips until the sugar is moist and fragrant. Add the eggs to the bowl. Working with the whisk attachment, beat the sugar and eggs together on medium high speed until pale, thick and light, 2 to 3 minutes. Beat in the vanilla. With a rubber spatula, very gently fold in the dry ingredients, followed by the melted butter. Press a piece of plastic wrap against the surface of the batter and refrigerate it for at least 3 hours, or for up to 2 days. (You can also spoon the batter into the greased and floured madeleine molds, cover and refrigerate, then bake the madeleines directly from the fridge.)

Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 400F. Butter and flour the madeleine mold and place the pan on a baking sheet.

Spoon the batter into the molds, filling each one almost to the top. Don’t worry about spreading the batter evenly, the oven’s heat will take care of that. Bake the madeleines for 11-13 mins, or until they are golden and the tops spring back when touched. Remove the pan from the oven and release the madeleines from the mold by rapping the edge of the pan using your fingers or a butter knife. Transfer the madeleines to a rack to cool to just warm or to room temperature.

Place the raspberries in the saucepan with the water and the sugar. Heat at a medium heat, and mash the raspberries with a fork until they are all crushed. Bring the mixture to a low boil, and cook off some of the water, approximately 15 minutes. Remove from heat and push the raspberries through a strainer, catching the seeds (I elected to mix a few seeds into the mixture, but it is completely up to you). Allow the raspberries to cool and then cover them and place in the fridge for at least one hour. You should have a jam-like consistency.

Using a skewer, carefully make a small hole in the foot of the madeline and carefully bore deeper into the cookie. Gently tap out the crumbs. Fill a ziplock or piping bag fitted with a small tip with the raspberry filling, and carefully pipe the filling into the madelines. Finish by tossing them gently in the superfine sugar, coating them completely.

note: although the batter can be kept in the refrigerator for up to 2 days, the madeleines should be eaten soon after they are made. You can keep them overnight in a sealed container, but they are better on day 1. If you must store them, wrap them airtight and freeze them; they will keep for 2 months.

Now, fully immersed in the world of artisan bread and lacking the bandwidth to deal in much else, I’m even more inclined to gab on about baking, yeast fermentation in all of its forms, steam injection ovens, the nuances of temperature in dough structure, blah, blah, blah. I’ll let you in on a little secret if you ever attend cooking school – not many people outside of the food industry care about these things.





One guy politely asked me the difference between baking soda and baking powder, just because he at least knew that they both went into some banana bread that he’d made with his girlfriend. I don’t think he expected the ten minute explanation I gave him, which might explain why his eyes glazed over and he started slowly backing away from me and looking around for someone to come rescue him from our conversation.





Luckily, there’s cake baking to distract me from bread baking. I enjoyed a beautiful Saturday morning market trip, and my haul was full of incredible goodies, reminding me, just like our first sunny week since April, that summer is finally here.





These are the happy months when I go to the market each week, buy whatever tickles me, and then come home and plow through my cookbooks and binders of recipes, deciding what to do with it all. Dorie Greenspan has so many recipes that are market-ready, it’s no surprise that I keep coming back to her again and again. She saved me from being a complete social pariah this weekend, because hey, the baking nerd may be boring, but damn, she makes one fine cake.


With the tart plums offset perfectly by the delicate sweetness of this moist cake, this is one fine cake, indeed.

Dimply Plum Cake

Adapted from Baking: From My Home to Yours by Dorie Greenspan

Serves 8

1 1/2 cups all purpose four

2 teaspoons baking powder

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom

5 tablespoons unsalted butter

3/4 cup packed light brown sugar

2 large eggs

1/3 cup canola oil

Grated zest of one lemon

2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

8 purple or red plums, halved and pitted

1. Preheat the oven to 350F. Butter an 8×8 baking pan, flour the bottom and sides, and set aside.

2. Combine the flour, baking powder, salt and ground cardamom.

3. In a stand mixer, cream the butter with the brown sugar. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in the oil, lemon zest and vanilla. Reduce the speed and add the flour mixture, and mix only until just incorporated. Pour the batter in the prepared dish, smooth the top and arrange the plums on top, cut side up. I found it was useful to arrange them 4×4.

4. Bake for about 40 minutes or until a knife inserted in the middle comes out clean and the top is brown with the plums set well into the cake. Let cool for at least 15 minutes (the juices of the plums will get sucked back into the fleshy parts of the fruit) before loosening the edges of the cake with a knife and inverting the cake on a baking rack. Return the cake to face up and cool the rest of the way.

I woke up on Thursday morning having the annual fuzzy, out of body-ish experience of coming to and realizing that, if asked, I would have to say that I was a year older than I would have said the morning before. As in, on Wednesday, I would have said “29″, but on Thursday, the only honest answer would have to be “30″.

Luckily, I haven’t really had to spend a whole lot of time taking stock of the year gone by. My decision to go to cooking school threw the need for that out the window, and with all the love and support from everyone around me, I’m exactly where I want to be.

Then, Thursday night, under the guise of surprise birthday plans, Brian led me to a champagne and cheese cocktail hour for two at our spot in Central Park, where he asked me to marry him.

Just when I thought things couldn’t be more exactly right on the first day of my 30th year, they got exponentially more amazing from that one blurry, whirling moment on.

What do other people talk about during the first hours of getting engaged? We chattered on incessantly, like excited children. Our dinner reservations were late, so we occupied ourselves with getting drinks, taking in the view of the park from up above, sitting next to fountains, and contorting ourselves into awkward poses for our camera phones.

With the people all around us going about their usual, Thursday night, after-work routines, we felt like the only people in the whole world. We had this huge secret and were all aglow, subconsciously daring people to ask us. Can you tell we are different? Should we tell you why? Are we making you nauseous? Common, ask us. ASK US!

We rounded out the night doing the unbelievably delicious tasting menu at Babbo, with each plate more amazing than the first… squid ink fettuccine with a fresh pea pesto, braised short rib pasta pyramids, goat cheese and beet ravioli, and so on. And entirely too much wine, perfectly paired with each course.

After spending Friday out of the rain and on the phone, the word was out and Saturday our friends turned out for a casual afternoon celebration at the Bohemian Beer Garden in Queens. If you’re not a city-dweller, this place probably doesn’t seem like a big deal, but for those of us confined to apartment living, traveling to other boroughs to enjoy food, drink, and live music at picnic tables in the sunshine is actually a luxury. I brought along Dorie Greenspan’s iconic cookies (click here to read the back story in her own words) not just because they are some of the most amazing cookies on Earth, but also because with all the dreams that have come true for me this month, perhaps World peace is not outside the realm of possibility.

It’s something I wish for now, more than ever, as I contemplate spending the rest of my life with this amazing man.

Sables Korova (World Peace Cookies)
Taken from Paris Sweets: Great Desserts From the City’s Best Pastry Shops with one variation from Baking: From My Home to Yours both by Dorie Greenspan

1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 stick plus 3 tablespoons (11 tablespoons) unsalted butter, at room temperature
2/3 cup (packed) light brown sugar
1/4 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon fleur de sel or 1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
5 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped into chips, or a generous 3/4 cup store-bought mini chocolate chips

Sift the flour, cocoa and baking soda together.

Working with a stand mixer, preferably fitted with a paddle attachment, or with a hand mixer in a large bowl, beat the butter on medium speed until soft and creamy. Add both sugars, the salt and vanilla extract and beat for 2 minutes more.

Turn off the mixer. Pour in the dry ingredients, drape a kitchen towel over the stand mixer to protect yourself and your kitchen from flying flour and pulse the mixer at low speed about 5 times, a second or two each time. Take a peek — if there is still a lot of flour on the surface of the dough, pulse a couple of times more; if not, remove the towel. Continuing at low speed, mix for about 30 seconds more, just until the flour disappears into the dough — for the best texture, work the dough as little as possible once the flour is added, and don’t be concerned if the dough looks a little crumbly. Toss in the chocolate pieces and mix only to incorporate

Turn the dough out onto a work surface, gather it together and divide it in half. Working with one half at a time, shape the dough into logs that are 1 1/2 inches in diameter. Wrap the logs in plastic wrap and refrigerate them for at least 3 hours. (The dough can be refrigerated for up to 3 days or frozen for up to 2 months. If you’ve frozen the dough, you needn’t defrost it before baking — just slice the logs into cookies and bake the cookies 1 minute longer.)

Getting Ready to Bake:
Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 325 degrees F. Line two baking sheets with parchment or silicone mats.

Using a sharp thin knife, slice the logs into rounds that are 1/2 inch thick. (The rounds are likely to crack as you’re cutting them — don’t be concerned, just squeeze the bits back onto each cookie.) Arrange the rounds on the baking sheets, leaving about 1 inch between them.

Bake the cookies one sheet at a time for 12 minutes — they won’t look done, nor will they be firm, but that’s just the way they should be. Transfer the baking sheet to a cooling rack and let the cookies rest until they are only just warm, at which point you can serve them or let them reach room temperature.

For a little while now I’ve been hiding a big secret. It’s incredible, life changing news, and I’m completely surprised that I managed to keep on writing about avocado-mango salsa, strawberry cream tart, and the stand-alone amazingness of artichokes as if nothing else was happening all of this time.

I feel bad about it, since it’s a clear violation of the unwritten clause of honesty in the East Village Kitchen constitution. For that I am sorry. Will you forgive me once I’ve come clean and let me back in the circle? It’s really good news. And I’m hoping that once I share it here, it will feel real for the first time.

I’m leaving my job to become a bread baker and pastry chef.

I got butterflies in my stomach just writing it here. These butterflies and I have become my partners in crime over the past few weeks. They were all aflutter the day I broke the news to my parents during their visit to New York, and no sooner did I overhear Brian telling his folks on the phone one night, then there they were again.

And again when I clicked the submit button on each of my applications. And when I told my boss earlier this week that I’m leaving the company at the end of the month. And there they were again today when he made the announcement to my colleagues this afternoon.

The best part is that the butterflies are markedly absent in the moments that I’ve been telling my friends, one by one. Aiming at discretion, I’ve been settling for cryptic Facebook messages, random phone calls, and, my personal favorite, the text message.

My friends and relatives are the greatest ever, and of course, and all of the feedback has been nothing but supportive. In many cases it was like I was the last one to know – for those who know me, this decision was a foregone conclusion.

Still, if I sit long enough alone with my thoughts, my fiercely-practical inner voice starts telling me how stupid it is to throw years of work away at one career to start from scratch in another. And go into debt. In an economic environment that continues to spiral steadily downward. And the poverty of being a student. And the hideous hours that bakers and pastry chefs keep. And the shift to having to rely on my partner to carry the burden of keeping a roof over our heads. 

And speaking of that partner, I am the luckiest woman on Earth. What I am about to do is not easy, and is, to say the least, risky. Yet, of all the supportive people backing my decision to go to culinary school, Brian has witnessed each part of the process, heard my arguments to try to talk him out supporting me, as I am wired to do, by throwing every negative dart and possibility up against my own plan, and yet, he remains rigidly positive.

So last night, while frustrated by being bumped off the Sallie Mae website thrice while attempting to complete a loan application, only to come up with a 14% interest rate, and just having read the New York Times article about how broken and backwards the student loan system is in the first place, I paused. I thought about Brian, working away at the office with his team on a deadline, and I thought about how much I had always admired his passion for entrepreneurship, and reflected, wow, I am entirely too lucky. I immediately decided to bake this cake for his team, who is working so hard, because at the moment it was the most romantic gesture I have the means to summon. Unfortunately, for the next few years, baked goods are going to be the only tangible way I’ll be able to express my love and gratitude, but this cake was a wonderful way to start.

Mocha-Walnut Marbled Bundt Cake Recipe
Adapted from Baking: From My Home to Yours by Dorie Greenspan
 

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 cup finely ground walnuts

1 tsp. baking powder

1 tsp. salt

2 sticks plus 2 tbsp. unsalted butter, room temperature

3 oz. bittersweet chocolate, coarsely chopped

1/4 cup coffee, hot or cold

1 tsp. finely ground instant coffee or instant espresso powder

1 3/4 cups sugar

4 large eggs, room temperature

2 tsp. vanilla extract

1 cup whole milk, room temperature

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.
Use a 12 cup bundt pan. Don’t put it on a baking sheet – you want the heat to circulate through the Bundt’s inner tube.

Whisk together the flour, ground walnuts, baking powder and salt.

Set a heatproof bowl over a pan of simmering water. Put 2 tbps. of the butter into the bowl, along with the coffee, chocolate and instant coffee. Heat the mixture, stirring often, until melt and smooth and creamy. Remove from heat. (I do this step in the microwave, stirring every 20 seconds. It doesn’t take long.)

Beat together the remaining butter and the sugar at medium speed for about 3 minutes – you’ll have a thick paste; this won’t be light and fluffy. Beat in the eggs one by one, beating well after each addition. The mixture should look smooth and satiny. Beat in the vanilla extract. Reduce the mixer to low and add the dry ingredients and the milk alternately, adding the dry in 3 portions and the milk in 2 (begin and end with the dry).

Scrape a little less than half the batter into the bowl with the chocolate mixture and, using a spatula, blend thoroughly.

Either layer the two batters or alternate spoonfuls of light and dark batter in the pan. When all the batter is in the pan, swirl a knife sparingly through the batters to marble them.

Bake for 60-75 minutes or until a thin knife insereted deep into the centre of the cake comes out clean. Transfer the Bundt pan to a rack and let cool for 10 minutes before unmolding, then cool the cake completely on the rack.

I went out in the heat first thing this morning to meet my friend Nora for breakfast, and was delighted to see all the signs that summer has (temporarily) arrived in the East Village. Steam was rising from freshly-hosed pavement and the bodegas were already putting down the shades over their flower selections to protect the delicate petals from burning up in the sun. I happily flipped and flopped in a sundress all the way to Veselka.

With temperatures this high, I know I run the risk of not doing these brownies justice, which would be a tragedy. I made them weeks ago – to round out the honeycomb cannelloni that I prepared when Graig and Alice came to visit. Back then, the weather felt like winter, extended. A heavy, Sunday supper of family-style comfort foods seemed entirely appropriate.

Of course in a heat wave,  nobody wants the thickest, most dense, fudgy, delectable, heavy-duty brownies that ever lived. Perhaps if I freeze them and put them on a stick you’d be interested? Or give them a spin in the ice cream maker? Quickly sear them on the grill?

But in a few days, when we are back to more natural seasonal temperatures hovering in the 40s at night, I hope that you will remember these amazing brownies. They are dangerously decadent and not for the faint of heart.

Oh, so speaking of moist, dense, and amazing, I’m soooo excited to share that my original recipe for Cheesecake Sweeties was chosen as one of six finalists in a blogger recipe contest sponsored by the North Carolina Sweet Potato Commission! I’m all aflutter! Check out Sara Bonisteel’s commentary of the contest on Slashfood, including a gorgeous photo of her interpretation of my recipe.

Rick Katz’s Brownies for Julia
Adapted from Baking: From My Home to Yours by Dorie Greenspan

1 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
2 sticks (8 ounces) unsalted butter, cut into 16 pieces
4 ounces unsweetened chocolate, coarsely chopped
2 ounces bittersweet chocolate, coarsely chopped
2 cups sugar
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
4 large eggs

Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Put a 9-inch square baking pan on a baking sheet. Line the baking pan with parchment (it’s ok if it hangs over the sides).

Whisk the flour and salt together.

Set a heatproof bowl over a saucepan of gently simmering water, put the butter in the bowl and top with the chopped chocolate. Stir frequently until the ingredients are just melted – you don’t want them to get so hot that the butter separates. Add 1 cup of the sugar and whisk gently just to incorporate it, then remove the bowl from the pan of water. Stir in the vanilla and transfer the warm chocolate to a large bowl.

Put the remaining 1 cup of sugar into the bowl of a stand mixer or a medium bowl and, using a whisk, stir in the eggs. Switch to a rubber spatula and, little by little, add half of the sugar-egg mixture to the warm chocolate, stirring very gently but without stopping – you don’t want the heat of the chocolate to cook the eggs.

With the whisk attachment or with a hand mixer, beat the remaining sugar and eggs on medium-high speed for about 3 minutes, or until they double in volume. Using a spatula and a light touch, fold the whipped eggs into the chocolate mixture, stopping just short of blending them in completely. Sprinkle the dry ingredients over the batter and delicately fold them in, working only until the disappear. Scrape the batter into the pan and smooth the top with the spatula.

Bake for 25 to 28 minutes, or until the top looks dry. Poke a thin knife into the center and take a peek; the brownies should only be just set and still pretty gooey. Transfer the pan to a rack and cool to room temperature.

The brownies are fragile and best cut in the pan. Cut into 18 1 1/2×3-inch bars.

There are a lot of really good things coming out of my kitchen this weekend, and I just can’t wait to tell you about each and every one. Some of them even prompted an after work trip in Soho to hit Broadway Panhandler (yeah, yeah, I know, that’s NOHO not Soho, but who can keep up?), Crate and Barrel, and Sur La Table for special equipment. 

Some women lust after shoes or clothes, or bags or makeup – heck, some teachers I know practically orgasm when they walk into the back-to-school sale at Staples. We all jonze for one type of retail therapy or another, and for me it is kitchen stores. I wander into one and drool all over the beautiful All-Clad. I make meaningful eye-contact with glorious Global knives. 

And today, I hit the jackpot at Sur La Table, after striking out at the first two, as they had just received a new shipment of the exact item that I was seeking (to be revealed in a future post). And after I had that item in my hot little hands, I rationalized how I needed oh, 8 other things. When the saleswoman asked me if she could take some things off the pile I was balancing precariously, I told her that the rule is that I am not allowed to buy more than I can carry to the register (yeah, I have issues).

Yadda yadda yadda, I bought a Madeleine pan, something that I’ve wanted for a while and had been waiting for just this sort of impulse to buy. 

I took the madeleine pan home, and I swear, I put it on the rack in the kitchen for another day and began working on one of the other exciting things for the weekend. But I had a little downtime as that project was baking, and I went right for Dorie Greenspan’s book, which inspired the purchase in the first place.

The madeleines are fairly straightforward, or at least, so I thought at the time. You melt some butter and wait for it to cool. You use Ms. Greenspan’s awesome technique for infusing sugar with the scent and flavor of fresh lemon zest (same as in the recipe for Blueberry Crumb Cake). You beat eggs at room temperature and the lemony-sugar together until the mixture becomes light and airy, then carefully fold in the dry ingredients, and finally, the melted butter. Then the batter goes to the fridge for a while, where it firms up to be scooped into the madeleine pan.

My only taste of madeleines is the ones you buy at Starbucks, so perhaps my expectations were fueled by fake fat and preservatives. The madeleines were delicious, light, pretty, with just the right kiss of lemon and vanilla. They were also a little too crispy on the outside, not the delicate sponges I was hoping to get, but I have a few theories about how to fix that.  I’m marking these as a work in progress, which means you can expect to see future attempts back here.

Traditional Madeleines 
From Baking: From My Home to Yours by Dorie Greenspan

This recipe has a sad name, which, I hope, will not mislead.  When I first saw it, I was reminded of this night when I was out with some girlfriends a few years back and I was in a really dark mood. I’m talking apocalyptic, what’s-the-point-because-with-global-warming-the-planet-is-doomed, we’re-all-food-for-the-wor

ms-anyways kind of dark. My friends drew stares from fellow restaurant patrons as they all, in unison, made these “Wotttt wahhh” sounds, which in my TV-less existence prompted me to google the SNL Debbie Downer sketch.

That is the opposite mood of this cake, the “upside-downer”, which is filled with optimism and light. And even though I have tons of cake recipes from other cookbooks, I can’t stop going for the Dorie Greenspan. I’m addicted, probably because every single recipe I’ve tried has turned out so drop dead perfect.

This recipe was so timely. No sooner had I flipped through my dog-eared copy of Baking: From My Home to Yours, than I stumbled upon this recipe. Which reminded me of that sad, aimless bag of cranberries that was sitting in the fridge, waiting to go bad in a month or so.

To make whole cranberries sweet, you nestle them into a syrup at the bottom the the pan. The oven does the rest, and the cranberries come out, almost completely intact, on the top of the cake when you invert the pan.

As with each cake recipe from Ms. Greenspan, the batter is simple. By following the sequence of directions, it is utterly foolproof.

Carefully smooth the batter over the cranberries and syrup. If you have leveled the cranberries well and anchored them in the syrup, very few will migrate up into the batter.

I brought this cake to Mike and Jo’s to round out our delicious small-plates meal. We picked at the cake as we attempted to decipher the convoluted rules of an impossible, cult-followed board game called El Grande and worked on what must have been our fourth bottle. At one point Mike began skimming off the cranberry topping, which he proclaimed to be the best part. I agreed.

Cranberry Upside-Downer Cake

Adapted from Baking: From My Home to Yours by Dorie Greenspan

1 cup flour

1 tsp baking powder

1 tsp cinnamon

¼ tsp salt

1 ¾ sticks (14 tablespoons) butter

1 cup minus 2 tablespoons sugar

¼ cup chopped walnuts or pecans (I used pecans)

2 cups cranberries

2 eggs

1 tsp vanilla

1/3 cup whole milk

1/3 cup red currant jelly, for glazing (I omitted this and it still looked and tasted lovely, and in addition, made it easier to transport to Brooklyn)

Preheat oven to 350. Put an 8 inch round pan on a baking sheet. I used a springform and the baking sheet was a necessity. Whisk together the flour, baking powder, cinnamon, and salt.

Melt 6 tablespoons of the butter in a small saucepan. Sprinkle in 6 tablespoons of the sugar and cook, stirring, until the mixture comes to a boil. Pour this into the bottom of the pan then scatter over the nuts and top with the cranberries. If frozen berries cause the butter to congeal, don’t worry, everything will melt in the oven.

Using a stand mixer, beat the remaining stick of butter until smooth. Add the remaining ½ cup sugar and beat until pale and creamy, about 3 minutes. Add the eggs one at a time, beating one minute between each. Pour in the vanilla. Add half the dry ingredients, mixing only until they disappear. Mix in the milk, then the rest of the dry ingredients. Spoon the batter over the cranberries, and smooth the top.

Bake for 40-45 minutes or until a knife comes out clean. Carefully turn out onto a serving platter. Warm the jelly and brush over the cake.