Is it spring yet? These past two weeks have been a roller coaster in terms of weather, and “mood stability” seems to mirror the skies outside for lots of us. (That’s called pathetic fallacy, right? My high school English teacher would be proud.) Two weekends ago, the temperature plummeted into the 20s. On Saturday, I ran an errand in the morning after my swim. The walk was just a few blocks, but I was shivering in my down jacket (with three layers underneath!). I stopped partway to get a steaming cup of hot cocoa and within minutes, my fingers were numb even holding the warm cup. I felt I’d never warm up, even after two hours in a warm car (seat heater on full blast, naturally) and a mug of split pea soup.
And then, a week later, the sun was out in full force. Sunday and Monday of this past week were glorious blue sky days—the sort that make you feel a bit self-conscious about wearing a jacket. The sort that make you itch to get outside and move your legs, free your skin from layers of clothing and swathes of scarf fabric, and put upbeat music on your headphones. So I did. I picked up a salad on my lunch break—eschewing my plan for more g-d soup in favor of a bowl of greens. I packed it with all the crunchy, creamy, cold things: pesto grilled chicken and quinoa and edamame and cucumber and an avocado green goddess dressing with a squeeze of lime. The stoop of my building is a nice place to people-watch, so I sat there in a patch of sun and ate.
And here we are somewhere in the middle of the two extremes. It’s warm enough to skip the down jacket, but it’s gray and drizzling and nowhere approaching sunny. This cold feels distinctly like springtime cold though—you know that fresh, bright chilly feeling that comes in March and April? It makes me think of dew on the grass and icy water and brilliant green things.
Citrus is a particularly appropriate ingredient for this transitional phase, being entirely wintery in nature but also cheerily worthy of spring. It doesn’t feel quite so much like jumping the gun, produce-wise, as my blueberry crumb cake from last week does. But it’s also a respite from the months of chocolate cookies and pumpkin and gingerbread spices.
So, onto today’s recipe. In the spirit of full disclosure, I’ll explain why I did not initially think I’d be telling you about this cake.
I was searching for a good vegan cake recipe—but when baking anything vegan, I’d always prefer to find a recipe that naturally doesn’t call for dairy or eggs. Or, I like to find a base recipe or method that doesn’t, and riff on it from there. This goes for cooking as well: Why make, say, a mashed potato recipe with vegan butter when you could make an awesome one using olive oil?
Cakes are trickier though. Generally, eggs provide structure to cakes (and other baked goods)—this is hard to replicate. You can use a “vegan egg replacer” or ground flaxseed, but the success of this method hinges on the recipe. Some adapt better to those changes.
So I was casting about in my brain for a recipe that didn’t use eggs to begin with…like some olive oil cakes! Okay, I thought. This could work. I didn’t need eggs (although lots of olive oil cakes do, they tend to be more moist and dense, which makes eggs less crucial). I could rely on olive oil for the fat, instead of butter, and I thought even more moisture might be useful—enter: coconut milk.
With all that squared away, I set about making the cake. I whipped up the batter. I grimaced. Was it too wet? Would it stick? Oh well! I took a deep breath, scraped it into my Bundt pan, and slid it into the oven. An hour later, I pulled it out and yes it did stick. But just barely! It was intact enough to eat, so I carried on and tasted it. It was…good? It just didn’t have much flavor. I mostly tasted olive oil and the citrus and coconut seemed to have gotten lost.
It seemed like a shame to toss out a perfectly edible cake, so I let it cool, then wrapped it tightly and put it in the freezer. I thought I could crumble it—frozen—into yogurt or ice cream, or layer it with whipped cream or pudding. Or perhaps toast it and use the toasted pieces as “croutons” for a chia pudding topping (a favorite dessert lately).
But lo and behold, some alchemy took place overnight! I took a frozen piece out the next night and warmed it up slightly. It was perfection. It was perfectly moist without being greasy. The olive oil flavor was now a back-note to the bright citrus and the creamy coconut milk. It was actually sort of addictive. And best of all, sugaring the pan created this gorgeous chewy, caramelized crust around the edges.
So I tested it again, and then once again. Each time, the cake was perfect the second day (whether or not you have frozen it). So, if you plan to make this for a gathering, make it the day ahead! And use it as a tiny way to practice patience, and faith, and the belief that cake will be the answer somehow to everything, even if it doesn’t seem that way at first.
Citrus Coconut Olive Oil Cake
Makes one large Bundt cake
1 ½ cups sugar
¼ cup citrus zest (I use a mix of yuzu, lemon, lime, and blood orange)
2/3 cup olive oil
1 can (14 ounces) full-fat coconut milk
½ cup fresh citrus juice
2 teaspoons vanilla extract (or 1 teaspoon vanilla and 1 teaspoon Fiori di Sicilia, see note)
3 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
¾ teaspoon salt
1 cup shredded unsweetened coconut, toasted (optional)
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Spray a 10-cup Bundt pan very well with baking spray (you can grease it with butter or shortening but I have had the most success using this Everbake spray which I SWEAR by). Sprinkle granulated sugar on the inside of the pan, turning it upside down and tapping to get rid of the excess. Try to sugar all the crevasses.
Place the sugar in the bowl of a stand mixer. Add the citrus zest and, using your fingertips, rub the zest into the sugar until fragrant and well-incorporated.
Add the olive oil, coconut milk, citrus juice, and vanilla. Mix well.
Add the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Mix until just combined.
Fold in the coconut, if using.
Pour the batter into your prepared pan. Bake for 55 to 60 minutes (start checking as early as 50 minutes)—the cake is done when it’s golden brown on top and a tester inserted into the middle comes out without any wet batter clinging to it.
Remove the pan from the oven. Immediately run a small knife (I like an offset spatula) carefully around the top edges of the pan. Depending on how intricate the shape of your Bundt pan is, you won’t be able to get your knife in too far—just try and get in there a bit and encourage the loosening. Let the cake cool for 15 minutes. Don’t try to flip it any sooner or it’ll fall apart as it’s too hot, and don’t wait much longer or it will start to stick.
After 15 minutes, place a wire rack over the pan and invert it to flip the cake out. Let cool, then eat!
This cake is much better the second (and third and fourth!) day and it freezes beautifully.