Two-bottle gingerbread

I've lived here long enough to learn where the afternoon sun hangs this time of year. So does the cat, and she has her seasonal spots by the front window. Right now, she likes the seat of the big green chair. In a few months, she'll migrate to the corner of the rug, unless the dog got there first.

We've been having the best weather. Each day calls for several versions of one outfit - early morning, mid-morning, and afternoon styles. The colors around the neighborhood are warm, the air grips my nose, and the crunch of leaves is still catching me off-guard on my daily walks. I just picked the last of the tomatoes the other day, and just in time: the lightest whisper of frost settled on my windshield the next morning.

And thus, I knew it was time for me to put away my most obvious summer clothes this weekend - the summery dresses that don't transition well to colder months, anything that has eyelet lace, or any item that looks like something I'd wear on a yacht. In my mind, that means thin fabric with stripes, though I'm guessing, since don't have any personal experience on a yacht.

It still may hit 80 degrees these afternoons, but on Saturday I found myself singing, "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas," switching out the word "look" with "smell," because I made gingerbread. The warm spices bloomed in the oven and I convinced myself that it is fall, because dang it, I just reacquainted myself with the sweaters I'd buried and now want to wear again.

This is gingerbread in a bundt pan, gingerbread that is so rich it calls for a pound of butter, and two bottles of molasses.

Seriously, two! I almost thought it was a mistake. But it was so good and tender that if it was indeed a mistake, I don't want to correct it. So just note that if you want to make this as written, make sure you have two bottles or one giant jar of the thick dark stuff.

One particularly spicy and welcome addition is chopped candied ginger. It's mixed into the batter so you get these nice little hot, chewy bits every once in awhile.

The jury's out on the lemon glaze for me. It's a welcome palate cleanser of sorts, something that cuts through the richness, but it was almost too lemony. A simple sprinkle of powdered sugar would be just as nice, though not as pretty as a glaze on a ridgy bundt, which of course you can make without the lemon.

But enough with the notes. Make this and feel good about life.

Two Bottle Gingerbread with Candied Ginger and Lemon Glaze
Adapted from Marie's (Simmons, of Bon Appetit) Rich Gingerbread in Classic Home Desserts

1 T. unsalted butter, softened, for the pan, plus a little flour
1 c. unsalted butter, softened
1 c. packed dark brown sugar
2 large eggs, room temperature
1 3/4 to 2 c. dark molasses
3 1/2 c. flour
2 T. ground ginger
2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. ground cloves
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 c. minced candied (crystalized) ginger, chopped fine
1 c. boiling water

Lemon glaze
1 c. powdered sugar
1-2 T. fresh lemon juice
1/2 tsp. lemon zest

1. Preheat oven to 350. Butter and flour a standard-sized bundt or tube pan and tap out the excess flour. Set aside.

2. In a large mixing bowl, beat the butter with an electric mixer at medium-high speed, until light and fluffy - about 5 minutes. Add the sugar and beat until evenly combined and smooth. Beat in the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Gradually beat in the molasses with a slow, steady stream, as is its nature, until evenly blended.

3. Sift together the remaining dry ingredients in a separate bowl, and stir in the candied ginger. Gradually add in the dry ingredients to the wet, just until blended with no visible flour pockets. Remove bowl from mixer and with a good rubber spatula, fold in the boiling water in 1/3 c. increments, until all is thoroughly and evenly incorporated. Spoon the batter into the prepared pan.

4. Bake for about an hour, until the sides begin to pull away from the pan. Cool the cake in the pan on a cooling rack for a half hour (it's okay if it falls a little bit). Run a knife around the edges if necessary and invert the cake onto a serving plate.

5. Combine the lemon glaze ingredients - the glaze should trail from the spoon like molasses - slow, but not painfully slow. If it's too thick, add more lemon juice; if it's too runny, add more sugar. With a spoon, gently ladle the glaze over the top and let it trickle down the sides to your liking. Serve warm if possible, or let the glaze set a while and eat it at room temperature. With tea, of course.