Self, are you listening?

On growing less and enjoying more — plus Sourdough Honey Cake with Italian Honey Meringue

Dear friend,

In our latest video, I share about my 40th birthday celebration spent abroad — with only seven days notice! Surprise!

But that was last week. Back within the comforts of my own cottage’s walls, I find myself overwhelmingly grateful for the comfort of my pillow, the dancing red poppies outside my window, and the familiar maple-sweetened espresso and warm milk in my favorite mug. After my travels over five thousand miles away, favorite pieces of home are once again revealed: sweet hugs from my children, peanut butter, Stuart next to me in bed at night, and hot showers.

I never want to become numb to these good gifts. Lord, I see your good gifts.

I spent my first few hours at home resting, hydrating, cuddling, and unpacking. Now that the suitcases are once again buried deep in the stairway closet and the euros have been spent, it is time to open my eyes to the season ahead here on the homestead. Before me lies a season of snapdragons and tomatoes, dips in the pool and cold chicken salads. It is a season of joy, of ladybugs, of sweat, and of eggplants. (And that’s to say nothing of the poppy pods and sweet potato vines, sunflowers and apricots.)

This year I’m trying something new: planting my vegetables amongst the flowers. If you search within the hollyhock patch, you’ll find cucumbers planted along the edge. A few tomatoes are tucked in amongst the lavender, peppers are alongside the clover, and spinach is strewn at the base of the hydrangea. It was a full-out attempt to plant what we could, where there was space. Simple as that.

After years of planting and working towards as much production as possible, to casually tuck the okra amongst the roses felt a bit odd. What if it doesn’t take? What if it brings us no yield? After asking such questions, I slapped my emotions into shape, and reminded myself that while we grow to eat and enjoy the fruits of the season, we are always provided for in one way or another. For this season, it’s far more important for our family that the gardens feel like they are serving us than us serving them.

And so the actual harvest will decrease. But that’s not the only metric.

What cannot be quantified is the joy of seeing the gardens well-kept, of easily being able to step outside the kitchen door and be met by the basil I planted in the pot under the lilac topiary, and of allowing my summer to be shaped by a bit more delight and a bit less manual labor. I look forward to a season of roses and chive blossoms, beets grown here or purchased from the farmer’s market. In case you also need the gentle reminder, while the skill and effort of growing one’s food is no doubt admirable and valuable, it does not increase your value as a human. (Self, are you listening?)

And just as true, it is something we should keep in balance with our lives and the season of it we are currently in.

My doctor, who is walking alongside me closely through the mental struggles I’ve been working through as of late, continually reminds me that my constitution is one of sensitivity. The “aroma” of my home, the state of my circumstances, impact me internally more than some. For me to look out and see an unkept garden or an endless list of tasks, is a daily poison that I can no longer continue to swallow. It is far more valuable to have a few kept pots, a few comfortable plantings, a scruffy little cottage garden, than it is to have grand-plans of which I will kill myself to maintain.

To move forward, I must dial back.

It already feels delightful. I’m gathering a few small handfuls of arugula and parsley to throw in with my morning’s eggs and taking the time to sweep off my front porch and water the window boxes. I planted a few zucchinis next to the zinnias and look forward to their growth, while at the same time, feeling completely resolved if this is to be a year where zucchini is bought at the market instead. Either way, there will be zucchini and neither of these pathways proves or disproves my capabilities or value. (Self, are you listening?)

While it’s true that I delight in growing food for our family table, it’s also true that I value my time spent engaging with my children, opening up our table, and tending to our home. I enjoy spending time in my gardens for pleasure — weeding and pruning them into their fullest expression of beauty. I enjoy having the time to watch the roses dance in the breeze and training the clematis up the pergola, gathering gooseberries from spiky branches, and shaking the mulberries free from the tree limbs.

I enjoy having enough capacity left in me to say thank you, God, for these good gifts.

With or without the homegrown zucchini, I have more than I could have ever hoped for and far more than I deserve.

This year, I hope to see our garden not as something to simply maintain or optimize, but as what it truly is: a gift.

Like cake.

And Amen.

Sourdough Honey Cake with Italian Honey Meringue

Because we’re using baking powder and soda to levain the cake (and not relying on sourdough to create our rise), you can choose how long to let your cake ferment at room temperature based on your schedule or need for gluten-breakdown. If you don’t have a sourdough starter, substitute in a cup of Greek yogurt instead. You can easily adjust the honey to your desired sweetness level or even play with various whole wheat flours for a more earthy flavor. While it’s delicious served with Italian Honey Meringue, it’s also delicious with any manner of fresh fruit or jams.

This recipe was featured in our The Cooking Community, our online community and recipe library with over 450 whole-food recipes, each with an instructional video. Our community is helpful to home cooks who need reliable, proven recipes and desire an ad-free, private, supportive experience. You can learn more about our community or join in right here.

For the cake

275 grams (about 1 cup) of active, bubbly sourdough starter

275 grams all-purpose einkorn flour

175 grams milk

175 grams butter, melted

150 grams honey

3 eggs

1 1/2 tablespoons vanilla extract

3 teaspoons baking powder

¾ teaspoons baking soda

¾ teaspoon sea salt

For the meringue

½ cup honey

2 egg whites

Pinch sea salt

1. In a bowl, combine the sourdough starter, flour, milk, and butter. Stir well to combine. Cover and set aside for 2-12 hours. The longer your cake sits, the further the sourdough flavor will develop and the gluten will be broken down.

2. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Butter and line a 9x13 baking dish or 10-12” cake pan. Set aside.

3. Melt the honey in a small saucepan. Add the honey, eggs, and vanilla extract into the flour mixture. Fold to combine, taking care to not overmix.

4. Sprinkle the baking powder, baking soda, and sea salt over top of the dough. Again, fold to combine without over-mixing.

5. Pour the cake batter into the prepared baking dish. Place the cake in a preheated oven and bake for 30-35 minutes, until set and golden, or until a toothpick inserted into the middle of the cake comes out clean.

6. Allow the cake to completely cool.

7. While the cake cools, add the egg whites and pinch of sea salt into a stand mixer. Begin to mix on high.

8. While the egg whites whip, melt the honey in a small saucepan until it reaches 240 degrees (rapidly bubbling).

9. Carefully, and slowly, drizzle the honey into the stand mixer while it’s whipping the egg whites. Go slowly and take a full minute or two to drizzle the entire honey mixture in, running the mixer on high the whole time.

10. Continue to run the mixer on high for an additional 10 minutes. During this time, the egg whites should double in size, become very stiff, and begin to look very shiny.

11. Evenly spread the meringue on top of the cake and serve at room temperature.

Love,