Blueberry Coffee Cake

Blueberry Coffee CakeAlthough I loathe mornings in general, my preferred time of day is amazingly the half-hour after my alarm rouses me at 6:45…and again at 7:00 (thank god for Snooze). I pour coffee, lighten it with a heavy-handed splash of milk and collapse to my sun-warmed dining room floor. For 20 minutes, coffee in hand and surrounded by a potpourri of toys and foil balls and twist ties, I lazily play with my kitties, Mochi and Wasabi – a purr, a rub behind the ears, a gentle bite, a pounce.

This morning, as they dashed about their kitty tent (yes, they have too many things!), I realized this moment merely lacked a wedge of almond-covered blueberry coffee cake.   Coffee, cake and kitties, oh my!

Blueberry Coffee Cake

Cake
1 cup + 1 T. All-purpose flour
1/3 cup Sugar
½ t. Baking powder
¼ t. Baking soda
¼ t. Nutmeg (freshly ground, if possible)
¼ t. Salt
½ t. Finely grated lemon zest
1 Egg
½ c. Buttermilk or Non-Fat Greek Yogurt
2 T. Butter, melted
1 t. Vanilla extract
3 T. Brown sugar
1 cup Fresh blueberries
Topping
2 T. Demerara or brown sugar
4 T. Sliced Almonds

Directions:

  1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees and grease an 8” springform pan.
  2. Combine 1 cup flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, nutmeg and salt
  3. Combine zest, egg, buttermilk, butter and vanilla. Add to dry ingredients and gently stir to combine – don’t overmix.
  4. Spoon 2/3 of the batter into pan. Sprinkle 1 T. flour on blueberries to avoid them sinking. Cover batter with brown sugar and blueberries. Spoon the remaining 1/3 batter on top. Sprinkle with demerara sugar and sliced almonds.
  5. Bake for 40 minutes or until golden brown and a toothpick inserted comes out clean.
  6. Cool 10 minutes. Serve warm.

Coffee Break

My childhood memories that I show you are usually horrific ones of an abused and scared little girl.  I remembered this contradictory morning and wanted to share it with you.  Not every hour and every minute was bad and perhaps that type of childhood is even more challenging – never knowing where on the spectrum of love and hate a moment is going to land.

It’s Saturday morning, not too early because even as a little kid, I was never a super-early riser.  Perhaps it’s 8 or 9 o’clock.  I’m watching Saturday morning cartoons from my spot  on the floor at the end of the coffee table.  In front of me is a half-finished Libby  juice glass of “coffee” made especially for me by dad – three heaping tablespoons of sugar, probably filling 1/3 of the glass, 1/3 whole milk and the final third of coffee.  Tasting more like dessert than bitter coffee, it’s delicious. Dad is sitting behind me at the dining table, reading the paper with his mug of black coffee in his hand.  The rest of the family is still asleep.  All is well.