In the practice of Lucummi, the Afro-Cuban religion commonly called Santeria, the gift of food you present to an orisha is called adimu. Orishas are spiritual entities or forces most often associated with natural phenomena. Yemaya, for example, is associated with the ocean and she is considered the Mother of the World. A nice watermelon with molasses dribbled on it would be an appropriate adimu for Yemaya. She would look kindly upon you for such a gift.

 

Ochun is associated with the river, with sweet water. She owns the blood stream. She loves honey, oranges, cinnamon, gold, bright yellows. When she laughs her high hysterical laugh she’s to be most feared. She has bouts of melancholy, jealousy, and tempestuous love. The music of stringed instruments? That belongs to Ochun. The arts. Culture. Romance. These all have links to Ochun.

 

When individuals go through kariocha, the weeklong initiation into the mysteries of an orisha, they are spoken of as having been “crowned”. The actual day of the crowning is a day celebrated like a natal birthday each year after that. Elaborate “thrones” are built to display the orishas presented to the individual priest. And “admiu” is placed before them.

 

Such was the case on Sunday when my friend Michelle celebrated her 13th year crowned to Ochun. I figured I had better try to do some special baking. I reached for Chez Panisse Desserts by Lindsey Shere. Lindsey started at Chez Panisse in 1971 and remained there as pastry chef until retiring in 1998. She is truly one of the mighty.

 

I settled on Savarin, a yeast cake (more like a bread, really) soaked in rum and glazed with jam. It’s the 8 eggs and the 3 sticks of butter that swayed me. So very Ochun, that.

 

1 ½ T dry yeast

¼ C warm water

8 eggs

½ C less 1 T milk

2 T sugar

¾ tsp salt

1-inch piece of vanilla bean

3 ¾ C flour

1 ½ C unsalted butter

Makes 5 ½ cups dough, enough for a 10-inch bundt pan of 9-inch springform pan, for 16-20 servings

 

“Sprinkle the yeast over the warm water in a small bowl. Put the whole unshelled eggs in another bowl, cover with hot water to warm them, and set aside. Put the milk, sugar, and salt into a small saucepan. Split the vanilla bean lengthwise, scrape out the tiny black seeds, and add the seeds and pod to the mixture. Warm the mixture until the sugar and salt have dissolved. Measure the flour into a large mixing bowl. When the yeast bubbles, stir in enough of the flour from the mixing bowl to make a soft dough. Let it rise until double and bubbly.

Make a well in the remaining flour and break the warmed eggs into it. Pour in the warm milk mixture, leaving the vanilla pod behind, and add the yeast mixture. Whisk this all together until smooth. Cut the butter into ½-inch thick slices and lay them over the top of the dough. Cover and set aside in a warm place to rise. The dough will rise faster without the butter, but if you put the butter on top it will be the same temperature as the dough when you are ready to beat it in. When the dough has risen double, beat in the butter until it is well mixed and smooth.

Savarin is traditionally baked in a ring mold, but I like to use a bundt pan or even a 9-inch springform pan. Fill whichever pan ½ full. Let rise again in a warm place until the dough just reaches the top of the pan, and set it, without jarring, into a pre-heated 350 degree oven. Bake for 55 minutes to 1 hour, or until it is firm, golden brown, and pulling away from the sides. Cool on a rack.”

 

Recipe Road Test: It’s kind of an eccentric recipe, but with a distinct personality. I’m reminded of Elizabeth David’s recipes, which were so much about voice.

 

I decided from the get go I wasn’t going to be too fussy, and I was going to let Ochun be my guide. There’s a version of this recipe that follows in the book for Rum Babas, and I sort of blended the two.

 

First of all, I didn’t have a vanilla bean kicking around, so I used about a cap of vanilla extract. The good stuff. I love the part about warming the eggs, and about getting the yeast off to the right start. I had already moved ahead when I realized I didn’t remove 1T of milk from the 1/2C of milk. It didn’t seem to make any difference.

I let the Kitchenaid do the whisking work, then layered the surface of this yellow shaded sticky dough with the pats of butter – this was just too cool. I put plastic wrap over the bowl and came back in an hour.

 

The butter had totally softened in place. I had chopped candied ginger at this point, and had plumped golden raisins and some dried chopped Montmorency cherries in hot rum. This went on top of the butter along with the grated zest of an orange. Next time I would use 2 oranges. All of that got blended.

 

I had a bundt pan, and enough dough left over for small individual cakes baked in a brioche mold. Don’t ask. I just happen to have one on hand.

 

The small cakes baked for about 25 minutes, the bundt cake for 55. You get this gorgeous golden brown.

There’s a syrup you can pour over the cakes – 2C water and 1 C sugar boiled together for a few minutes. You let this cool and then, traditionally, add ¾ to 1C kirsch. I added rum instead. The cakes soak this up. Then, you can take ½ to ¾ cup of apricot jam or marmalade and bring that to a boil, and add a teaspoon of kirsch or, rum. And then glaze the cakes.

 

The result is moist and intoxicatingly delicious. And it’s all relatively easy to make and, as far as I can tell, pretty much bullet proof.

 

Road Test Result: You’re going to want to take this baby for a ride.