Cassata Ricotta (Sponge Cake with Ricotta)

The hot crossings of the Coastal Trail. The mountains still snow-capped. Three twelve-hour shifts this week. The body holding.

Lourdes is 75. She is slower. She still cooks. She still tells me to find a husband even though I have one. Angela came over Saturday with the kids. We cooked. We argued about pancit proportions — she uses more soy, I use more calamansi. We are both wrong, according to Lourdes.

I made cassava cake Saturday. The grated cassava, the coconut milk, the slow bake. The cake that holds Iloilo in it.

I skipped the blog this week. Some weeks the kitchen is enough.

I went to bed Sunday at nine. I slept for ten hours. The sleeping was the inheritance.

I drove home Tuesday evening and the sun set at three forty-five and the highway was already iced at the bridges and the radio was on a station I did not recognize and I did not change it.

I taught a Saturday morning Kain Na class on basic adobo proportions for new cooks. Eleven people in the kitchen. Half of them had never cooked Filipino food before. By eleven AM the kitchen smelled the way it should smell. By noon they were all eating. The eating was the lesson landing.

I took a walk on the coastal trail Saturday. The light was good. The body was tired but moving.

I drove the Glenn Highway out to Eklutna on Saturday. The mountains were the mountains. The lake was the lake. The body needed the open road. The open road did its work.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced a fundraiser for typhoon relief in Samar. I committed to making three hundred lumpia. The number is the number. The number has always been the number. Three hundred is what I make. The math has stopped surprising me.

The Anchorage sky was the Anchorage sky. The mountains were the mountains. The inlet was the inlet. The geography was the geography.

I sat on the balcony in the cold for ten minutes Sunday night with a cup of broth in my hands. The cold was the cold. The broth was the broth. The body held both.

The salmon in the freezer is from August. Joseph's catch. The bag is labeled in his handwriting — "for Grace." I will use it next week.

The grocery store had no calamansi. I substituted lime. The substitution was acceptable. The acceptable is the working version of perfect.

Lourdes called me twice this week. The first call was about a church event. The second was about a recipe variation she had remembered from her childhood. The remembering was the gift.

A blog reader sent me a photograph of her grandmother's wooden mortar and pestle, used since 1962. The photograph was holy. I wrote her back. The writing back is the work.

Auntie Norma called Sunday to ask if I had a recipe for a particular merienda from Iloilo. I did not. I said I would ask Lourdes. I asked Lourdes. Lourdes had it. The chain.

I read three chapters of the novel Saturday night before sleep. The novel was about a Filipina nurse in California. The nurse was being undone by her work. I knew the unraveling. I had lived the unraveling. I read on. The reading was the witnessing.

The therapy session this month was about pacing. Dr. Reeves said, "Grace. The pacing is the love for the future self." I am working on the pacing. The pacing is harder than the loving.

I had a long phone call with Dr. Reeves on Wednesday. We talked about pacing and rest and the way the body keeps a log of what it has carried. Dr. Reeves said, "Grace. The body remembers. The mind forgets. The cooking is the bridge." I wrote the line down. The line is now on a sticky note above the kitchen sink.

That Saturday, with Lourdes’s voice still in my ear and the kitchen smelling the way a kitchen should smell, I understood again why I keep coming back to slow bakes—the ones that ask you to be present, to wait, to trust the oven. Cassata Ricotta is not the cake of my lola’s house, but it is a cake that understands layering: the sponge, the filling, the patience between. Dr. Reeves said the cooking is the bridge. I think she was right. This is the cake I make when I need the bridge most.

Prep Time: 35 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 1 hr (plus 2 hr chilling) | Servings: 12

Ingredients

For the sponge cake:
4 large eggs, room temperature
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 cup all-purpose flour, sifted
1/4 teaspoon fine salt
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled
For the ricotta filling:
2 cups whole-milk ricotta, drained overnight if watery
1/2 cup powdered sugar, sifted
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/3 cup mini semi-sweet chocolate chips
1/4 cup candied orange peel, finely chopped
For assembly:
3 tablespoons orange juice or sweet Marsala wine, for moistening
Powdered sugar, for dusting

Instructions

Prepare the pan. Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease a 9-inch round cake pan, line the bottom with parchment paper, and grease the parchment.
Make the sponge. Using a stand or hand mixer, beat eggs and granulated sugar on high speed for 5—6 minutes until the mixture is very pale, thick, and falls from the beaters in a slow ribbon. Beat in vanilla.
Fold in flour. Sift flour and salt over the egg mixture in three additions, folding gently with a wide spatula after each addition. Drizzle in melted butter with the final fold. Work slowly—you want to keep as much air as possible.
Bake. Pour batter into the prepared pan. Bake 22—25 minutes, until the top is golden and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool in the pan 10 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack to cool completely.
Make the ricotta filling. In a medium bowl, stir together ricotta, powdered sugar, and vanilla until smooth. Fold in chocolate chips and candied orange peel. Refrigerate while the cake finishes cooling.
Split and assemble. Using a serrated knife, split the cooled sponge horizontally into two even layers. Place the bottom layer on a serving plate or cake board. Brush the cut side with half the orange juice or Marsala.
Fill. Spread the ricotta filling evenly over the bottom layer, leaving a 1/2-inch border at the edge. Place the top sponge layer cut-side down and press gently. Brush the top with remaining orange juice or Marsala.
Chill. Wrap loosely and refrigerate for at least 2 hours (or overnight) to allow the layers to settle and the filling to firm. Dust generously with powdered sugar just before serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Cassata Ricotta (Sponge Cake with Ricotta) — The Cake That Holds Memory in It