Lemon Blueberry Bundt Cake with Lemon Glaze

Elsa called from Voyageurs. She has met someone. A man named Tom. A canoe guide. She sounds different on the phone — softer, brighter, the voice of a woman who is not as alone as she used to be. Elsa has been alone in the woods for fifteen years. I have respected the aloneness. I have also worried about it. The new voice on the phone is not a worry. The new voice is a relief. Erik turned seventy. We had a small party at his house. He grilled. He drank one beer (his quota, a quota set by his doctor, observed religiously). He was quiet and happy. He looked like Pappa around the eyes. I had not noticed before. I notice now. The resemblance has deepened with age. Erik is becoming Pappa in the slow gentle way that men become their fathers if they live long enough. Astrid had a fall. She is fine. The Twin Cities sister-call club is now its own small intervention. Karin and I take turns calling Astrid. Astrid resents the calls. We make them anyway. The resentment is the love filtered through Astrid's particular Scandinavian self-sufficiency. We do not mind being resented. We mind, far more, the alternative. I cooked Wild blueberry pie this week. Berries picked from the Superior Hiking Trail in August, frozen for use throughout the year. Tossed with sugar and a little cornstarch. Baked in a butter-and-lard crust. Served warm with vanilla ice cream. The taste of the trail. Damiano. The kitchen back-room I have known for over twenty years. The pot. The ladle. The faces. Gerald. The work continues. The work is the same work it has been since 2005. The continuity is, I think, the gift the Damiano Center gives me as much as the gift I give it. We hold each other up. Erik's house is empty now. The Fifth Street house has been sold (the new owners are a young couple from Hermantown, they are kind, they have promised to take care of it; they will paint the walls and tear up the carpet and the kitchen will become someone else's kitchen and I have made my peace with this, mostly). Erik's own house in Lakeside is being cleared out. I helped on Saturday. I packed Erik's coffee mugs. I held one for a long minute. I put it in the box. It is enough. It has to be. And on a morning like this, with the lake doing what the lake does and the dog at my feet and the bread on the counter and the kitchen warm enough to live in, it is. I have been reading the Bible more lately. Not in any new way. The same passages I have known since confirmation class in 1977. The Sermon on the Mount. The 23rd Psalm. The book of Ruth. Whither thou goest, I will go. The repetition of the verses is its own form of prayer. The verses do not change. I change. The change is held by the unchanged words. I have learned, slowly, that there is a kind of competence that comes only with age. Not wisdom, exactly — wisdom is a word too grand for what I mean. Competence. The competence of having watched many things go wrong and many things go right and having developed an internal database of which is which. The competence is, perhaps, the only thing that improves with age in a body that is otherwise declining. I will take the trade. It is enough.

The wild blueberries I picked from the Superior Hiking Trail in August have been waiting in the freezer, patient as the season itself. I made pie this week, which felt right — Tom and Elsa on the water, Erik turning seventy, Astrid being looked after whether she likes it or not, all of it asking for something warm and sweet and made from what we saved ahead of time. But when a neighbor stopped by on Saturday after we finished packing Erik’s house, I wanted something I could slice and share at the table, something bright enough to match the tentative good feeling in the room. This lemon blueberry bundt cake was the answer — the same berries, a different shape, and enough for everyone who came through the door.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 55 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 15 minutes | Servings: 12

Ingredients

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus 1 tablespoon for coating blueberries
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
1 3/4 cups granulated sugar
3 large eggs, room temperature
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
2 tablespoons fresh lemon zest (from about 2 lemons)
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 cup sour cream, room temperature
1 1/2 cups fresh or frozen wild blueberries (do not thaw if frozen)
For the lemon glaze:
1 1/2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
3–4 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon lemon zest

Instructions

Prepare the pan and oven. Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C). Generously grease a 12-cup bundt pan with butter or nonstick spray, making sure to coat all the ridges. Dust lightly with flour and tap out any excess.
Mix the dry ingredients. In a medium bowl, whisk together 2 1/2 cups flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Set aside.
Cream the butter and sugar. In a large bowl or stand mixer, beat the softened butter and granulated sugar together on medium-high speed for 3–4 minutes until light and fluffy. Scrape down the sides of the bowl as needed.
Add eggs and flavorings. Beat in the eggs one at a time, mixing well after each addition. Add the vanilla extract, lemon zest, and lemon juice, and mix until combined.
Alternate the dry ingredients and sour cream. With the mixer on low, add the flour mixture in three additions, alternating with the sour cream (beginning and ending with flour). Mix just until combined — do not overmix.
Coat and fold in the blueberries. Toss the blueberries with the remaining 1 tablespoon of flour until lightly coated. Gently fold them into the batter with a rubber spatula. This helps prevent the berries from sinking.
Bake the cake. Pour and spread the batter evenly into the prepared bundt pan. Tap the pan gently on the counter to release any air bubbles. Bake for 50–58 minutes, or until a wooden skewer inserted into the center comes out clean and the top is golden brown.
Cool before unmolding. Let the cake cool in the pan on a wire rack for 15 minutes. Then carefully invert onto the rack and let cool completely, at least 1 hour, before glazing.
Make the lemon glaze. Whisk together the sifted powdered sugar, lemon juice (start with 3 tablespoons and add more for desired consistency), and lemon zest until smooth and pourable.
Glaze and serve. Drizzle the lemon glaze over the cooled bundt cake. Let the glaze set for 10–15 minutes before slicing. Serve at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

Lemon Blueberry Bundt Cake with Lemon Glaze — The Taste of the Trail, Carried Home