If spices were party guests, allspice usually arrives with a raucous crowd—cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, and ginger—but its own, subtler voice is seldom heard. Only when you get it alone do you realize what terrific company it is for many other flavors. When cinnamon is around, it usually dominates. Cloves always tell the same story. But allspice intriguingly blends, fuses and enlivens other more subtle flavors, bringing out the best in everyone else without calling too much attention to itself. A few years back, making my Thanksgiving apple pie, I decided to wipe my apple-pie-spice-slate clean and create a new, restrained, but apple-flattering blend. I critically smelled each of the usual suspects and only added pinches of the strong cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg, but the allspice smelled so appealing, I allowed it to lead the pack. It was a delicious pie; its apple flavor sang clear, the spices perfectly balanced. Ever since, I’ve paid closer attention to allspice.(more…)
This is probably my favorite cake. I had my first Poppyseed Cake Moment over the one Elge made many, many years ago for my 22rd birthday: a light, white-cake matrix so chock-full of poppyseeds that it was blue. An orange-lemon soak, but otherwise no topping. Sliced fresh oranges all around the edge of the cake. With the first bite, the intriguing flavor of poppyseeds captivated my tastebuds. The cake carried their distinctive, elusive aroma beautifully, better than any muffin, bagel, or sweet salad dressing. She used the “Poppyseed Custard Cake Cockaigne” recipe on page 689 of the 1975 edition of The Joy of Cooking, only without the custard filling. I began to experiment with different poppyseed cake recipes—once I made one containing walnuts, walnut oil, and orange zest—it had a lush, Eastern-European cold-weather richness. 
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