If the alliterating name of this sultry sponge has grabbed you, you need to make it quickly. Here in England, blood oranges are only available for a brief period after February. They're very affordable (mine came in at 5 for a pound) and utterly, utterly divine in flavour; they're somehow sweeter and tangier than their dull, self-descriptive counterpart? Having said that, blood oranges are no more imaginative in name. They too state the obvious, in that the flesh is, incredibly, the red tone of blood. All the better to squeeze and zest violently into a cake batter.
As I have said a few times before, there now lies a dingy crater in my heart which was once filled with an intense romantic relationship with cake making. I was in love with the tender crumb of cakes before I knew what love even was. Somehow, after I took a hiatus from baking, I couldn't manage to successfully get back into cake making. It's taken a little more originality in inspiration for my cakes, and 0 level of difficulty and idiot-proof preparation to start giving it another go. Everyone needs a little love again. Do they need the excessive sugar of this recipe? We'll see. Just buy blood oranges while you still can.
This thought occurred to me, not long ago, and way after 2 years when I first posted this. I love any sort of polenta cake, and these days it's almost selfish to not give a gluten free alternative. So, with that in mind replace the flour weight with half ground almonds and half fine polenta.
1)I know this is obnoxiously chef-y, but I find everything so much easier if you have already the ingredients laid out (at room temperature, or if like me the room temperature is scarcely different from a school assembly hall, the butter been warmed slightly in a microwave so it's soft) and have your bundt pan (if you don't have one then a loaf pan, or indeed any round cake pan, will be excellent too) well greased, easiest way to do this I think is an oil spray. The kind used for people on a diet. And we're making cake with it. Aha. Preheat the oven to 170 degrees, and zest and juice 3 blood oranges. Weigh out 200g plain flour, 1 1/2 tsp baking powder and 1/2 tsp salt, and set the dry ingredients aside.
2)In a large bowl, cream 200g of soft butter, 200g of caster sugar and the orange zest until light and creamy, then have a scrape down the sides, and prepare to add flour and eggs. You can fold the flour in, but this is a bit easier, especially when there's juice which dilutes and thus more risk of the batter curdling. Add 1 egg, a rough 1/4 of the dry ingredients, about 1/2 tsp orange flower water, and 1/4 the blood orange juice. Blend until it's all incorporated, then scrape down the sides and proceed with the remaining 3/4 of the ingredients (but no more orange flower water, unless a bleach-flavoured cake is your thang), 1/4 at a time.
3)When everything is thoroughly combined, and very light, pour the batter into the tin, and bake for about 40 minutes. Do not open the door whilst cooking, apart from after the first 2/3 cooking when you can start checking its colour. If the cake is not done (skewer comes out laden with batter) but the top looks it, be prepared to lower temperature so the whole cake cooks evenly.
4)Leave the cake to cool in the tin, whilst you prepare a syrup to drench the cake with. In a small saucepan, dissolve about 100g of icing sugar and equal parts the juice of one blood orange and cranberry juice, until the icing sugar fully dissolves, and it turns into a flowing, reduced syrup. Fill the cavity of the cake with slices of blood orange, then puncture the cake with a piece of uncooked spaghetti, and drizzle all of the syrup over. Leave it to absorb all the syrup, then scrunch over yet more sugar (caster), and serve. And I did think about making a syrup simply by warming beautiful red grenadine and blood orange juice, this eliminating icing sugar and cranberry juice.
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