Skip to main content

Lemon - not so sour after all

My neighbours gave me lemons. It warmed my heart no end as I HATE paying for lemons! Why should I? Lemon trees are everywhere and I don't understand why we all don't have mountains of lemons at our disposal at a moments notice. If I have to buy lemons I am at my most crabby and disagreeable. I disgruntledly mumble like an old bag lady with 23 cats who can't find her shopping trolley full of crap. I moan and sulk, I pick up lemons and then put them down and frown and then snort out my nose, fast. Then I put the stupid thing in my basket and move on.

Did I spend time photoshopping a lemon in between those hands? Yes I did, that's how much I like lemons.
But, my neighbours gave me some. Sarah's grandmother has a tree, which is only right and proper, all grandparents should have a lemon tree, that should be legislated on. And all lemons on the tree should always, always be pressed fervently onto family members. Because even if they don't need the lemons, then their neighbours will. It is exactly as things should be. A lime tree is also highly prized but optional.

I got excited about making this recipe for two reasons, lovely pictures of snowcapped cakes and also because I could use the dinosaur novelty shapes that I have! Well I call that a toofer, if I ever did. Gosh darnit. Sigh. proper swear words are so much better than those.

The dinosaur novelty shape silicone moulds are one of the things that I got on one of my trips to K-Mart - a place I can never visit without buying at least one useless item. I call myself lucky if it is one. So the moulds were Gabe's big idea - of course - and they have sat idling their time in the cupboard ever since. Turns out there isn't much call for dinosaur shaped cakes on a regular basis, surprisingly.

Stegosaurus, diplodocus and, what looks like, Dorothy the Dinosaur.
Full Disclosure: Don't make these cakes in dinosaur novelty tins. Make them in loaf tins or mini muffin tins. Enough said.

Lemon Sour Cream Cakes (from the awesome site Taste.com.au)

70g butter, softened
1/2 cup (100g) caster sugar
1 egg
1/2 cup (125g) sour cream
1/2 cup (75g) plain flour
1/2 cup (75g) self-raising flour
1 tbs finely grated lemon rind (get lemons from neighbour)
2 tbs lemon juice
2 cups (300g) pure icing sugar
2 tbs lemon juice

Still life with lemon.


Preheat the oven to 160 cel or wherever you think that is since that incident. You know the one. Over zealous cleaning has a lot to answer for.







Heft your gorgeous mixer to the main cooking bench - the bench that all other benches aspire to be and then beat your butter and sugar together until they are pale and creamy. I just googled pale and creamy and here's the wildcard image for the post:

Pale and Creamy.
Google is so random.

Add the egg and give it a good beat - maybe 116 BPM, like "Ice Ice Baby"- old school. Then add the sour cream and the flours and stir. Then the lemon rind and lemon juice. I never quite know why we switch to stirring here and not beating. I think that it has something to do with not over beating the mix and making it "tough". I, myself, would rather not deal with a tough little batter

Bridgette: Into the moulds
Tough Little Batter: Make me!

So I stir.

Pop the mix into the moulds or the cupcake tin (I really mean it, don't use dinosaur moulds) and smooth the top a bit. My mix was lovely looking and very yummy.

I EAT you!
Bake these for 15 or 20 mins. If you've used an adorably tiny cupcake mould then maybe try 12 mins and check 'em.

I made the lemon icing - it's not rocket science - just pour the icing sugar in and add the lemon juice till you get a good thick consistency.

Aww..
Exhibit A












So they look like this. The cupcake style was a winner I think. The cake is very moist and light and would benefit greatly form being in small, bite size amounts. The dinosaurs were a bit too big and also look weird when iced. I think that they would look better with coloured icing, but I don't have time for that type of decoration dedication. I gave two of the cupcakes to the neighbours who seemed pleased. They are nice cakes and I'll make them again. But no dinosaurs. Quid Pro Quo. Wait no, QED.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Let me Rock you

I am making Rock Cakes tonight, they are helping me to calm down from a big fight with the kid. We don't fight much, Gabe and I, we are generally in tune with each other. But not tonight. we were so out of tune that the band leader would have thrown his baton to the floor and stomped from the room. Or I would have, Or I did. Whatever. Solid and dependable, strong like man muscle. I want an alcoholic beverage and I want it now. I can't drink though because I am meant to be writing. Ah... yes now you understand why two blog posts in the same day. Avoiding. I am in the process of avoiding. Anyway, it's all temporary - I have to write and because I have to write I can't drink. I can't drink because I am a hopeless drinker. One drink and I'm blearily slow dancing to a song off the Jukebox and then laughing and crying and laughing again. I am basically a Joni Mitchell song when I drink. Spell checker tried to convince me that I wanted juicebox then, not jukebox....

Birthday Requests

Initially Gabe's fifth birthday cake was to be a volcano. We enthused about it for quite a few months. I researched how to best tackle the cake and then how to make it ACTUALLY EXPLODE, in a way that would not take out the eyes of every small child in a 50 metre radius. Plus it had to be edible afterwards. The natives ran and screamed.. I had taught Gabe the phrase "pyroclastic flow" in readiness, so that other parents would be impressed with my child's precocious use of language and when told about it I would blithely answer "Oh did he? Oh well he does love to read!". An then I would have laughed my patented carefree parent laugh. It is a light sounding laugh, slightly distracted and adorably unselfconscious. I haven't really had much call to use it yet. Anyway after all that research and time and energy and sourcing a tin that would be a good mountain shape and discussing a plan of attack with my good friend Sue - and then getting her excited a...

Ba-na-na-naaaaaa Bread.

There's comes a time in a woman's life when she looks in her "freezer" and sees all the "bananas" piling up in there and she knows that she has to do "something". Everything in the quotes is literally true, but they add something don't they, a sort of mystery. Too many bananas. That's what always prompts banana bread round here. I buy bananas with excellent intentions - they are filled with potassium and a nutritious snack for a child. I tenderly lay them in their own bowl on the bench so that their weird ripening gas doesn't make everything else age prematurely (what exactly is the banana's plan there by the way? Is it to make all other fruit appear so old and wrinkly that they are only attractive option? If that is it then I respect them all the more). And no one eats them. Or everyone does, in one day. We are either crazy for banana's in my house or we HATE them. And those hated banana's go on to be frozen. They get a...