The heaping spoonful of honey you swirl into your tea or slather onto toast equals the entire life’s work of a honeybee.
As a species, honeybees make up for their small size with sheer numbers. A hive in summertime can reach a population of 50,000 bees. Do the math: Those tens of thousands of bees produce gallons of honey in a year, removed guiltlessly by human thieves, a.k.a. beekeepers.
I’m one of those thieves, a careless steward with my husband and son to two hives that last year produced a modest three gallons of raw, urban honey in exchange for the wooden boxes we provided plus a little sugar water in the lean days of early spring. Our citified honey is a blend of everything floral our bees can find within three miles of home–in parks, railroad rights-of-way and residential gardens.
Like you, I’ve been reading lately about disappearing honeybees. Beekeepers open a hive and find no one at home. The vacancies are a warning about tampering with the fragile balance between human and environment. As we consider what we risk losing, let’s appreciate what the bees provide.
Bienenstich (or bee sting cake) is popular throughout German-speaking countries and is found in many varieties. When I lived in Munich, it was a bakery favorite. The name refers to the honey traditionally used in at least the topping. (In this recipe it’s also mixed into the cake and filling.) But bienenstich also comes with a legend: that a couple of 15th Century Rhineland bakers thwarted a raid from a neighboring village by launching beehives at the attackers, then celebrated the event by creating a version of this cake.
It’s OK to use regular grocery-store honey for this recipe, but farmers’ markets and health-food stores offer much tastier local versions, and ethnic markets stock honeys from around the world. Once you begin comparing honeys, you’ll be surprised at how different they are from one another. Flavor and color depend on the source of the nectar–from clover and orange blossom to lavender, lychee and pine forest. To me, each one is pure, distilled sunshine.
BIENENSTICH (BEE STING CAKE)
Serves 10 to 12
Topping
7 tablespoons (3-1/2 ounces) unsalted butter
1/2 cup honey
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup sliced almonds
1. In a medium saucepan, melt butter and honey. Bring to a boil, gently simmering 2 minutes.
2. Add vanilla and almonds, remove from the heat and set aside to cool while preparing cake batter.
Cake
1 3/4 cups sifted all-purpose flour, plus1 tablespoon
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 stick (4 ounces) butter
5 tablespoons granulated sugar
1/4 cup honey, plus 1 tablespoon
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup milk
1 cup whipping cream
1 teaspoon almond extract
1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Grease a 9-inch springform pan, fit the bottom with a cut-out circle of parchment paper, butter the paper and dust the pan with flour, tapping out the excess.
2. Sift together 13/4 cup flour, baking powder and salt. Set aside.
3. Add slightly softened butter to the bowl of an electric mixer and beat until fluffy, 2 minutes. Gradually beat in sugar, about 3 minutes. Pour in 1/4 cup honey; incorporate an additional minute. Blend in eggs one at a time, beating after each addition. Add vanilla and half of flour mixture; mix briefly. Add milk, then the remaining flour mixture, beating briefly after each addition.
4. Scrape into prepared pan and spread evenly. Sprinkle top with 1 tablespoon flour, then pat top of cake smooth with hand. Spread topping over cake evenly.
5. Place springform pan on a sheet pan and bake for 35 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean. Cool cake completely.
6. Prepare filling by whipping the cream, remaining 1 tablespoon honey and almond extract together until stiff.
7. To assemble, remove cake from springform pan. Slice horizontally in half, setting the top aside. Remove the parchment paper from the bottom and place the cake on a plate. Spread filling on bottom half. Replace top half, and serve immediately or refrigerate until ready to serve.
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ssreynolds@tribune.com
