Blueberry buttermilk breakfast cake.

Blueberry buttermilk breakfast cakeThis cake has a story.

I believe I first spotted this glorious blueberry buttermilk breakfast cake on Pinterest (sigh, where else?) in 2011, which lead me this fantastic recipe posted on Alexandra’s Kitchen. The heady rush of anticipation I felt when pondering zesty lemon and gorgeously plump blueberries pretty much forced me to rush to the store to get ingredients. Plus, it was a breakfast cake. Ergo, healthy. (Am I right? Please tell me I’m not alone in this rationalization.)

Anyhow, I had to have it. Couldn’t wait!

So when I took the cake out of the oven, I was beyond excited. I was animated. I was ecstatic. Indeed, I was even dreaming of the day I’d open my own bakery and people would line up for the blueberry cake and I’d have to fend off hoards of fans – including Daniel Craig and Clive Owen, dressed in impeccable Tom Ford suits – because they were so devoted to the glory of this cake. The sugary crust looked divine. The heavenly combination of lemon zest and blueberry smelled like summer in cake form. Best of all, it was made from scratch and it was a work of art and I did it all on my own and it was going to be the best thing EVER. And then I took a bite.

I gagged. And just like that, my hopes shriveled like a pathetic, forgotten week-old balloon. All I could taste was salt…so much that it actually stung my tongue. It was absolutely revolting. Not even the underlying hint of lemon and the unbelievable moist texture could save it. It went directly in the bin. (Not even the hubby could stomach it, which is really saying something, considering he will eat all the expired contents of our fridge without flinching.)

Turns out, when this novice baker was reading the recipe, she saw teaspoon…and then proceeded to add a tablespoon of salt. Seriously. I rocked it like amateur hour.

This incident scarred me so deeply that I avoided this recipe for almost two years, even though I kept it in my recipe binder and it taunted me on a near-daily basis, serving as a handy reminder of my colossal failure. Damn thing made me laugh bitterly every time I flipped past it.

And here we are, January 2013. Last night, I was putting away my printout for crockpot bolognese sauce (via Skinnytaste – it’s AH-MAZING!) and the cake recipe caught my eye…and something clicked. I happened to have some buttermilk. I also had some lemons. Et voila, I just bought two pints of blueberries on sale during lunch.

It was meant to be.

I assembled the cake as if it were the most natural thing the world, which I’ve noticed happens now that I cook almost every day. I’m no longer stressed. I put my faith in my growing skill (and that of a good recipe) and just have fun. The more time I spend in the kitchen, the more comfortable I am – it’s so obvious that it’s almost not worth saying. But it’s true. It’s even become my zen downtime, like a meditation of sorts. I start chopping, measuring, sautéing, stirring, whatever…and I just enjoy the task. I don’t think about work. I don’t give a second thought to any other stressor in my life. I simply focus on creating something tasty.

I would be lying if I told you I didn’t pay extra attention to the salt, however. While I may be turning into buddha on a mountaintop, I’m certainly not stupid. Nor could I bear making the same mistake twice.

The cake really is extraordinary. The recipe is indeed a keeper; I’m glad I held on to it these past few years. I had to bake it a good 10-15 minutes longer than instructed, but other than that – perfection. And the buttermilk (I used a lowfat one from Trader Joe’s) really makes a difference. You can always make your own buttermilk, if needed, using lemon juice or vinegar.

Blueberry buttermilk breakfast cake.

So I guess this story is less about a cake than it is about me and how I’ve grown as a home cook. I am fascinated by how we keep learning, growing, adapting – regardless of how old we are. It’s one of those things that I remind myself on those days when I feel a little down. Look how far I’ve come. Look how much I’ve learned. And not just about cooking. Buddha on a mountaintop indeed!

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