Glazed Poppyseed Bundt Cake

The last Sunday of September. There is something I want to say about this year before October comes and the table opens again and the forward motion resumes, because September has been a month of accumulation, of adding up what has happened and who I am on the other side of it. I am fifty years old and I have lost my son and my mother in the same two-year period and I am in grief counseling and the church is closed for regular services and the world is in a pandemic and I am making sixty bag meals a week from my kitchen and the cooking class is still running and the blog is still running and I am still here. I am still here. After everything that 2018 and 2020 have done, I am still here.

Dr. Langley said something to me last week that I have been holding: "You have been feeding the world while starving yourself, and you are beginning to learn how to receive as well as give." She is right. She is right in the way that true things are right—not surprising, exactly, but clarifying, the feeling of something falling into focus. I have been giving out of the kitchen since I was eight years old and I have been receiving very little—I don't know how to receive, I was not trained in receiving, Bernice was not trained in receiving, Bernice gave out of the kitchen and never learned to say "I need something" in any language other than "let me make something." And I am her, in this as in everything. I am learning the other side. Slowly. The way the oxtails cook—low, slow, with time.

I made sweet potato pie this week. Two pies, for no occasion, and I ate a slice on Friday afternoon standing at the counter with my apron still on and I thought: I am receiving this. I made this. I am receiving it. Bernice, you deserved to receive more than you did. I am going to do better. I am going to eat my own pie at the counter and receive it and let that be enough. That is going to be enough.

The sweet potato pie I made that Friday isn’t a recipe I write down — it lives in my hands the way my mother’s did, passed through muscle memory and not much else. But when I reach for something baked and whole and just for me, something I can stand at the counter with and actually let myself taste, this glazed poppyseed bundt cake is the one I come back to. It has that same quality the pie had: made for no occasion, made for every reason, made to be received. If you are also learning, the way I am learning, to eat your own cooking and let it be enough — start here.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 55 min | Total Time: 1 hr 10 min | Servings: 12

Ingredients

3 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup poppy seeds
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
1 3/4 cups granulated sugar
3 large eggs, room temperature
1 cup sour cream
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
1 tsp almond extract
2 tbsp fresh lemon juice
1 tbsp lemon zest
For the glaze: 1 cup powdered sugar
2–3 tbsp fresh lemon juice
1 tsp lemon zest

Instructions

Prepare the pan. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Thoroughly grease and flour a 10- to 12-cup bundt pan, making sure to coat every ridge. Set aside.
Mix dry ingredients. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, poppy seeds, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Set aside.
Cream butter and sugar. In a large bowl, beat the softened butter and granulated sugar with an electric mixer on medium-high speed until light and fluffy, about 3 to 4 minutes. Don’t rush this step — it matters.
Add eggs and flavorings. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Mix in the sour cream, vanilla extract, almond extract, lemon juice, and lemon zest until just combined.
Combine. Reduce mixer speed to low and gradually add the flour mixture, mixing until the batter is smooth and no dry streaks remain. Do not overmix.
Bake. Pour the batter evenly into the prepared bundt pan and smooth the top with a spatula. Bake for 50 to 55 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into the thickest part comes out clean and the edges have begun to pull away from the pan.
Cool. Let the cake rest in the pan on a wire rack for 15 minutes, then carefully invert onto the rack. Allow to cool completely before glazing, about 1 hour.
Make the glaze. Whisk together the powdered sugar, lemon juice, and lemon zest in a small bowl until smooth and pourable. Adjust lemon juice one teaspoon at a time to reach your preferred consistency.
Glaze and serve. Drizzle the glaze slowly over the cooled cake, letting it run down the sides. Slice and eat a piece standing at the counter if you need to. That counts. That is receiving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Glazed Poppyseed Bundt Cake — Something Made Just for Yourself