Cake

This chiffon cake filled with rose-scented whipped cream is inspired by the aromatics found in Persian, Turkish, and Indian confections. Cardamom seeds have more flavor than the ground powder and are like little explosions of spice in the cake.

My grandmother came up with ways to use all of the black walnuts we get at the farm, where the trees grow like weeds. They're literally tough nuts to crack (my grandfather would drive over them with his tractor). Regular English walnuts are a less labor-intensive and milder substitute. My Aunt Janet sent me a copy of my grandmother's original handwritten recipe, which I've modified only slightly. This is a dense cake and doesn't need a frosting, but a scoop of ice cream makes it even better.

After three glasses of wine and about six chocolate chip cookies, my friend Andrew had the idea that I should make a dessert that incorporates the flavors of his favorite sweet drink, Thai iced tea. Despite having had a sufficient amount of wine and cookies myself, it was clear to me what a brilliant idea it was, so the following weekend, we baked a cake.
The sweetened condensed milk in the cake creates a lightly caramelized crust and the Thai tea gives it a beautiful bright orange color. This cake stayed on my mind for days to follow.
Note: look for the Thai tea at Asian specialty grocery stores.

This pink-hued cake is filled with rhubarb, which is in season during the spring and early summer. The cake freezes nicely and has a high ratio of fruit to cake—always good in a brunch sweet. Sliced into wedges, this coffee cake is a nice way to round out a seasonal bread basket of fruit muffins.

Simmer butter until its milk solids brown to unleash its nutty alter ego. Use it to bring deep flavor to baked goods, or as a sauce for fish or pasta.

The concept of ground almonds and extra-virgin olive oil in a cake may sound like a recipe for a lead weight, but this dessert is surprisingly airy and light yet also amazingly moist. And the bonus of a jigger of Amaretto liqueur can only make it better. Editor's Note: This recipe is part of Gourmet's Modern Menu for Passover. Menu also includes Quinoa and Asparagus Salad with Mimosa Vinaigrette and Wine-Braised Brisket with Tart Cherries.

My dad is the only person allowed to handle avocados in my family. Avocados are a very precious commodity, and in the hands of my father, reach their true potential: fresh homemade guacamole. Leave it to me to completely diverge from family rules. I developed this recipe out of my obsession with sweet avocado recipes. After a failed avocado milkshake and a disastrous avocado pancake, this pound cake totally satisfied my obsession. It's sweet, green, and has a slight bite from cornmeal. Yes, this cake is green, and tastes like avocado, but it's surprisingly delicious. Try it! You'll be pleasantly surprised.

This citrus cake is decorated with thin slices of candied orange peel. If you have any left over, roll them in sugar and dip in melted icing for a sweet treat.

Chef Raymond Vandergaag dresses up this citrusy cake with whipped cream and truffled honey, an unnecessary but welcome gilding of the lily.

Bake this festive spice cake in your favorite Bundt pan or pudding bowl, or feel free to use an 8" springform pan. You can top the cake with Luscious Chocolate Icing or simply dust it with powdered sugar.

Rich with chocolate and studded with bits of toasted almonds with a faint coconut flavor, this heavenly dessert is a special finish to a holiday meal. Because the leavening comes from aeration, it is essential that the ingredients be at room temperature before assembling the batter.

A yellow cake gets filled with jam then cleverly surrounded by a rhubarb mousse by using a larger spring-form pan as a mold. A jewel-like rhubarb glaze creates a finishing touch. If you have small, early tri-star or wild strawberries to garnish the top, so much the better!

In the winter months, there's nothing like the bewitching, slightly exotic flavor of Key limes or the larger regular limes (a.k.a. Persian) to transport you mentally to some warm tropical spot, preferably an island with an endless beach. This cake, with its tart lime filling offset by billowy drifts of sweet, marshmallow-like frosting, should do the trick. Key limes are smaller than Persian limes and often come packed in a net bag, but don't despair if you can't find them. Persian limes make an excellent substitute (see Cooks' Notes, below, for more details on buying limes). Another helpful hint: Because there's grated zest in both the cake and the filling, grate all the zest you need first, before you start juicing.

The King's Cake (galette des rois), in whatever form it took, with a "bean" baked into it, has been the king of desserts on Twelfth Night, also known as the Feast of Kings or Epiphany in France, since the Middle Ages. In those days, the French King's Cake took different forms depending on the region. It was a brioche topped with candied fruits in Provence, a flat galette with cream in the North, a dry cake in Lorraine, a puff pastry round with an almond flavored filling in Lyon. À Paris, it was a gorenflot, a sort of enriched bread raised with baker's yeast, something like a Polish brioche. The ritual of this shared cake is symbolic of the day of the Epiphany, commemorating the presentation of Jesus to the Magi on the sixth of January, but it is also redolent of other pagan traditions linked to the cult of fertility that was so popular with the Romans. The "bean" hidden inside the cake was originally an actual lima bean, a symbol of renewal and fecundity, before it was replaced by a tiny porcelain figure representing the Christ child, then by a host of trinkets. Today, the marzipan-filled, puff pastry round has gained supremacy almost everywhere. And for good reason—few pastries can give such extended pleasure. How delicious when, under its fine butter coating, the many-layered pastry (milles-feuilles), still warm, encounters the silky, fondant marzipan on the palate—a perfect combination of the puff pastry and grainy, ground almonds. No one knows exactly when this so-called "Parisian" cake was born. The invention of marzipan dates from the sixteenth century. The history should be treated with caution, but it is sufficiently delicious to have been inscribed indelibly in the memory of gourmets. In 1588, an Italian marquis named Murio Frangipani marketed gloves perfumed with almonds. There is nothing surprising about this because perfumers were originally glove makers. The essence of Italian frangipani, about which Catherine de' Medici was passionate, inspired the pastry cooks of the French court to create frangipane cream, an equal mixture of pastry cream and almond cream. King's Cake, whether flavored with fruits or almond cream, is a dessert with a history. Certain Epiphanies have been retained in the annals. For instance, on January 6, 1650, at the Louvre Palace, Anne of Austria and her son Louis XIV indulged in the cake, leaving on the table, as was the custom, a share for the poor, in this case the very part that contained the bean. The next morning, there was "no other king than that of the bean," the king having fled Paris to escape the uprising known as the Fronde. Is it because of this unpleasant memory that the tradition of naming the person who finds the bean as "king" for the day was outlawed during Louis XIV's reign, the custom being officially judged to be too pagan? In 1770, Diderot recounted this anecdote in his Encyclopédie, summarizing it with this amusing aphorism: "Signe Denis, sans terre ni château. Roi par the grâce du gâteau." (The sign of Denis [patron saint of Paris] without land or château, King by the grace of a gâteau.) The joy of eating the crown is all part of the pleasure of enjoying King's Cake once a year, and more....

This chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting gets a generous (and fun!) garnish of chopped chocolate and peanuts.

Nadine Levy Redzepi created this incredibly rich, moist cake. "Fat with fat—what could be better?" asks her husband. Serve it for dessert or with coffee or tea for breakfast.

Sometimes we spread jam between the layers; other times we simply dust the cake with powdered sugar.

Finely ground black sesame seeds create a deeply flavored and dramatically hued cake.

Olive oil cakes are popular in Italy, where they are typically made with orange-flavored liqueurs. This version replaces the alcohol with orange juice (and zest), and calls for brown sugar instead of the more refined granulated variety. Use extra-virgin olive oil if you prefer a more pronounced fruitiness. This cake was made with an 8-by-2-inch round “professional” pan; the batter can also be baked in a standard 9-by-1 1/2-inch cake pan.