Lemon Chiffon Cake

The light at twenty hours. The midnight sun on the inlet silver. A quiet shift Saturday — appendicitis, a fishhook in a thumb, a college student's alcohol. The quiet was the gift.

Lourdes is 76. She is slower. She still cooks. She still tells me to find a husband even though I have one. Joseph called Saturday. He told me Lourdes calls him every day. He answers every day. The pattern has held for 8 years.

I made salmon sinigang Sunday. Reynaldo's recipe. One extra squeeze of tamarind. The recipe is the rope.

The blog post this week was about kitchen rituals at Anchorage latitudes. It got six hundred comments.

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 called Lourdes Sunday night. The call was the call. The call was always the call.

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.

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.

The neighbors invited us over for a small dinner Thursday. They are an Iñupiaq family — Aana and her grandson Joe. We ate caribou stew and rice. I brought lumpia. The kitchens of Anchorage have always been the small UN. The food is the proof.

I read a chapter of a novel before bed each night this week. The novel was about a Filipina nurse in California. The novel was good. The novel was, in some way, my own life adjacent.

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.

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 afternoon. She is now seventy-nine. She wanted a recipe. I gave it to her. She wanted to know how my week was. I told her, briefly. She told me about her week. The exchange took eighteen minutes. The eighteen minutes was the keeping.

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.

A reader from New Jersey wrote in about her grandmother's adobo, which used pineapple. I had never heard of pineapple in adobo. I tried it. It was strange. It was also good. The strange and the good are not opposites.

I made tea late at night. The tea was the small comfort. The comfort was the marker.

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

I cleaned the kitchen Sunday afternoon. I wiped the stove. I scrubbed the sink. I reorganized the spice cabinet. The cleaning was the small reset. The reset was the marker. The marker said: the week is over, the next week begins, the kitchen is ready.

Pete and I had a long phone conversation Tuesday. We talked about the family — his and mine. The talking was the keeping.

After I scrubbed the sink and reorganized the spice cabinet Sunday afternoon, I wanted to bake something that asked almost nothing of me emotionally but rewarded patience — something the opposite of sinigang’s brine and weight, something Lourdes would call “for company” even when there is no company. Lemon chiffon cake is that recipe for me. It is airy where the week was heavy. It is the kind of thing I make when the kitchen has already been reset and I want to confirm, gently, that it is ready for the next week to begin.

Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 55 min | Total Time: 1 hr 20 min | Servings: 12

Ingredients

2 1/4 cups cake flour
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar, divided
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon fine salt
1/2 cup neutral oil (such as canola or vegetable)
7 large eggs, separated, room temperature
3/4 cup fresh lemon juice (about 4–5 lemons)
2 tablespoons finely grated lemon zest
1/3 cup cold water
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon cream of tartar
Powdered sugar, for dusting (optional)

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 325°F (165°C). Do not grease your 10-inch tube pan — the batter needs to cling to the sides to rise properly.
Combine dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the cake flour, 1 cup of the granulated sugar, baking powder, and salt until evenly combined.
Mix the wet base. Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients and add the oil, egg yolks, lemon juice, lemon zest, cold water, and vanilla extract. Whisk until the batter is smooth and no dry streaks remain.
Beat the egg whites. In a clean, grease-free bowl, beat the egg whites with the cream of tartar on medium speed until foamy. Gradually add the remaining 1/2 cup sugar and increase speed to medium-high. Beat until stiff, glossy peaks form — the whites should hold their shape without drooping.
Fold gently. Using a large rubber spatula, fold one-third of the beaten egg whites into the yolk batter to lighten it. Then fold in the remaining whites in two additions, working carefully to keep as much volume as possible. Stop when just combined and no white streaks remain.
Bake. Pour the batter into the ungreased tube pan and smooth the top. Bake for 50–55 minutes, until a skewer inserted in the center comes out clean and the top springs back when lightly pressed.
Cool inverted. Immediately invert the pan onto its legs or over the neck of a bottle. Allow the cake to cool completely upside down, at least 1 1/2 hours. This prevents the cake from collapsing as it cools.
Release and serve. Run a thin knife or offset spatula carefully around the edges and center tube to release the cake. Invert onto a serving plate. Dust with powdered sugar if desired, and serve at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

Lemon Chiffon Cake — The Recipe After the Week That Needed One