A Path Less Trampled
Exploring cake ideas using rhubarb and apricots.
"I took the one less traveled by" --- Robert Frost
Do you recall the Robert Frost line about choosing a road less traveled? Its symbolism could be interpreted as an endorsement of individual choice, regardless of uncertainty and potential regret. At least, that’s how I see it.
This fork in the road is also what I often face in the kitchen when piles of ingredients sit on my table. Do I make something recognizable, perhaps something I’ve made dozens, if not hundreds, of times? Or do I yearn for something new—something challenging that might work?
These were my thoughts as I sat and stared at the pile of freshly cut rhubarb sitting on my white laminated Saarinen tulip table.
I consider rhubarb a trusty old friend. It visits me every May, and then vanishes a few weeks into June. We usually hang out together and play the same game that ends in pie or compote. These are joyous and delicious times, but also far too predictable as I grow older. Sorry, rhubarb, but I’m feeling bored this year and I want something new.
As I sipped my morning coffee, cake came to mind.
Cakes are typically reserved for celebrations or to satisfy an urge for chocolate. Creating one makes me nervous; I'm not that good at making them, and they seem complicated to get just right.
Sometimes, despite my sincerest attempts, cakes turn out dense and heavy, like a 10-month-old fruitcake. They can also turn out wet, collapsing under their weight.
Moreover, there are separate bowls for the dry and wet ingredients. There are spatulas and whisks. It all feels like too much effort to clean up. And while the cake bakes away in the hot oven, my sun-warmed kitchen grows hotter.
But...
Chunks of sour rhubarb pieces suspended in a spiced batter began to take shape in my imagination. The color of the sponge intrigued me. Could I make it earthy – perhaps a color that would remind me of the ruby stalks emerging from the sandy, rich soil? I could employ an old trick I once learned, and coat the springform pan with sugar that would melt into the cake’s exterior to create a crunch. Yes, that would be a nice touch. Most of all, I want to pack the batter with fruit that would begin to melt into the cake’s interior. This should be a cake that needs no sauce, although I wouldn’t blame anyone if they wanted a scoop of something creamy on top.
As my plan crystallized, ginger seemed to whisper from somewhere nearby...maybe even cloves or vanilla. And I swear, I thought I saw the pile of rhubarb dance with anticipation. Suddenly, I was off and running, and my old friend rhubarb and I shared a most delicious slice of cake in about 90 minutes.
Success breeds ambition. A bowl of early-season apricots replaced the rhubarb on my table, and I suddenly found myself at that familiar crossroads again. The rhubarb cake had shown that straying off the beaten path could lead somewhere worthwhile. Now these apricots seemed to whisper the same challenge: a paved road or barely visible trails?
Apricots arrive when rhubarb season is in full swing. But early harvests of apricots – probably flown in from Spain or Italy – arrive at the local markets in a state of fruit puberty; they are not fully mature, but they are far enough along to annoy anyone daring to eat one. I liken them to a 13-year-old boy struggling with a squeaky voice. Artificially ripened apricots lack aromas, have an apple-like texture, and massive amounts of tannins and acids. Like drinking a young red wine from the Rhône region, the potential is there, but the experience isn’t enjoyable.
But every gardener knows that patience and heat can work miracles.
I typically enjoy eating apricots raw. It’s almost a game to try and nab one that’s in the sweet spot of ripeness. Even a day or two on either side usually satisfies. Alternatively, I’ve always enjoyed roasting apricots (especially the slightly hard ones) and dressing them up with rosemary, which complements their natural flavors and aromas. They match up well with almost anything coming off a grill.
These days, I tend to keep apricots safely in the sweet section. It’s crumbles, pies, ice cream – any and all, adorned with a dash of herbs and enough sugar to balance their pesky acids.
But this year, the path less traveled calls again. And thanks to rhubarb's encouragement, I know where it leads—to more cake, more risk, more discovery.
Sometimes the road less traveled turns out to be less traveled for good reason. Other times, it leads to exactly where you didn't know you wanted to go. Either way, you've moved forward. Either way, there's cake.
Please consider supporting my work through a paid subscription if you can. By contributing a small monthly or annual fee, you can access my recipes, including the one below, as well as my upcoming serialized book project. Your fees help me keep this project alive and ad-free!
Rhubarb Cake
At first glance, this cake reminds me of a French clafouti – the rhubarb pieces push their way through the top just like cherries in the classic clafouti recipe. But after slicing into the cake, there will be no confusion – this is a cake with a moist and crumbly interior that bears no resemblance to an eggy clafouti.
Apricot Cake
This simple cake celebrates the goodness of apricots. Baked in a sponge batter with hints of almond and vanilla, ripe apricots are enhanced and morph into fruity goodness that’s almost citrusy.
This recipe is based on the famous German Aprikosenkuchen, a traditional treat commonly enjoyed during late spring in many parts of Germany, Austria, and Switzerland. The cake is typically served on its own – it’s so light and juicy, and a sauce or anything creamy is not necessary.
Your Turn!
Have you ever found yourself staring at familiar ingredients, torn between the comfort of a tried-and-true recipe and the thrill of culinary adventure? I'd love to hear about your own kitchen crossroads moments—did you take the safe route or venture into uncharted territory?
No time? No worries! A quick heart tap below feeds both the algorithm and my ego.
If you feel chatty, hop onto Substack Notes to comment or restack. Even a snippet will do!
Social Media
I’m no longer engaged with Facebook or Instagram. Please follow me on Bluesky to stay connected on social media.
One of the best ways to share your appreciation for my work is to share it with your circle of friends and family or on your social media platforms. While you’re at it, you may also want to consider gifting someone a subscription.
A simple cake studded with seasonal fruit is a joy. Thanks for this lovely duet.
Oooh, lovely. I'm searching for new ways to use rhubarb. I've got lots growing in the garden at the moment.