Lemon Cake with Raspberries

Lemon Cake with Fresh Raspberries // Not Without Salt
Lemon Cake with Fresh Raspberries // Not Without Salt

Lemon Cake with Fresh Raspberries // Not Without Salt

I love that my husband knows which coffee cup I prefer my morning brew in.

I love that we pre-warm each other’s cup.

I love that I make the lunches because it’s his least favorite task and he ready’s the car so that my seat is warm before I get in.

I love that I know that one of my kidlets likes their blanket cold (five minutes in the freezer does the trick) and the other two prefer theirs to have a quick tumble in the dryer.

I love that they yell at me to cover my eyes when there is a snake on the TV or there is a photo of one anywhere near me.

I love that my mother-in-law always remembers to leave the ice out of my father-in-law’s water glass.

I love that when sick as a child my mom always knew that I needed one day to be doted on and then the next I needed someone to lovingly encourage me out of bed. She’s still the first I call when I’m sick.

And I love that I am a part of a group of friends who knows each others preferred cake flavor.

When you do life together long enough you get to know the little details; the seemingly mundane to most but important to those who know you and love you.

Amy, here is your cake.

Lemon Cake with Fresh Raspberries // Not Without Salt Lemon Cake with Fresh Raspberries // Not Without Salt


Heart shaped bundt pan available from Williams-Sonoma

* I’m in San Francisco tonight (Wednesday 2/4) at Omnivore Books 6:30. Actually the whole family will be there so please come say hello! 

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Lemon Cake with Fresh Raspberries

Adapted ever-so-slightly from Ina Garten


1/2 pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature

2 1/2 cups granulated sugar, divided

4 extra-large eggs, at room temperature

1/3 cup grated lemon zest (6 to 8 large lemons)

3 cups flour

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon kosher salt

3/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice, divided

3/4 cup buttermilk, at room temperature

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1 pint raspberries


For the glaze:

2 cups confectioners’ sugar, sifted

3 1/2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice

1/2 vanilla bean, seeds scraped (optional)




Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease and flour 1 large bundt pan or  2 (8 1/2 by 4 1/4 by 2 1/2-inch) loaf pans.


Cream the butter and 2 cups granulated sugar in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, until light and fluffy, about 5 minutes. With the mixer on medium speed, add the eggs, 1 at a time, and the lemon zest.


Sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a bowl. In another bowl, combine 1/4 cup lemon juice, the buttermilk, and vanilla. Add the flour and buttermilk mixtures alternately to the batter, beginning and ending with the flour. Add 1/3 of the batter of the bundt or loaf pans then scatter 1/2 of the raspberries on the batter. Add another 1/3 of the batter then top with the remaining raspberries then finish with the rest of the batter. Bake for 45 minutes to 1 hour, until a cake tester comes out clean.


Combine 1/2 cup granulated sugar with 1/2 cup lemon juice in a small saucepan and cook over low heat until the sugar dissolves. When the cakes are done, allow to cool for 10 minutes. Remove the cakes from the pans and set them on a rack set over a tray or sheet pan; spoon the lemon syrup over them. Allow the cakes to cool completely.


For the glaze, combine the confectioners’ sugar,  lemon juice, and vanilla bean, if using, in a bowl, mixing with a wire whisk until smooth. Pour over the tops of the cakes and allow the glaze to drizzle down the sides.



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Being Fed

Being Fed // Not Without Salt

I’m easing back in. Into this space, into the kitchen and into sharing myself through photographs, words, and food again. I’m tiptoeing up to the computer making myself tap the keys in an attempt to put words into sentences. It is a practice that I fell away from because well, I must admit that welcoming the book into the world has shaken me more than I anticipated. It’s not a bad thing, I’m just shaky. So much so that I have found myself at an entirely different seat at the table.

Instead of my usual position of shuffling in the kitchen preparing the meal, I am the one staggering to the table with empty plate in the hand in need of being fed. It’s a humbling, uncomfortable position as I much prefer the aprons strings tightly tied around my waist with a heaping platter of food made to feed those sitting around the table. But as we all know in life there are seasons; a passing of one thing to the next, and each season needs its turn. This has been my season to be fed.

Sometimes you need to be the one sitting at the table. Sometimes food is not about just about serving but also allowing someone else to serve you. There are days when you need to hold up an empty plate; tired, empty and humbly ask for a seat at the table.

Maybe you just had a baby. Or perhaps you’ve experienced great loss. Maybe it’s just that the day is hard and you need some help sludging through. Whatever the reason, at some point we all must be fed.

Being Fed // Not Without Salt Being Fed // Not Without Salt

I’ve needed to remind myself that it’s okay to simply sit at the table without bringing anything but yourself there. That’s enough. Don’t waste a moment feeling guilt or shame because that masks the beauty of humbly taking a seat. Instead, soak it in, let each bite be one of gratitude and slowly you will be fed and eventually ready to feed again.

Those of us who hold a deep passion for food, I will venture to say that it is because we love to feed. To care for those we love and to create the space for life, relationship and love to build around the table. Let’s not forget to give those who love us the chance to do the same for us. We all need it.

The images in this post were from a lunch made by my friend, Aran Goyoaga. Ironically when I showed up for lunch she was preparing recipes from my book which is such a stunning visual of the cyclical nature of feeding others; it comes back around when you need it most.


Because of my community, my tribe and my many opportunities to sit at others’ tables in the season I am ready to feed again. I’ll be back here very soon, with cake.


Also, I have a few events to point out:

We are headed to San Francisco next week. So I’ll see you at Omnivore on Wednesday evening, right?


Then Palm Springs (2/6) and Palm Desert (2/7). More information here.


There are still tickets available for our incredible Valentines’ Dinner in Portland. I’ll announce the menu soon. It’s ridiculous, trust me.


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