A simple, sturdy drizzle-cake that can be made with whatever citrus you have on hand. I’ve made versions with lemon, lime and bergamot (after impulse buying a glorious box of bergamots online…) and all work beautifully.

The Plain-Cake Appreciation Society {edition 22}, Pistachio and Rose Cake.

The Plain-Cake Appreciation Society {edition 15}, Burnt-butter Sheet Cake with Blackberry Buttercream.

Years ago, when I ran a cake stall at the Bondi Farmers’ Market, double chocolate brownies were my best seller. I would make trays and trays of them on Friday night and inevitably wish I had made one more tray when they sold out early the next morning.

Welcome to this week’s meeting of ‘The Plain-Cake Appreciation Society’. It seems only fitting that this week I give you a chocolate offering – the proximity to Easter and the weather positively demand it – and who am I to stand in the way of chocolate cake?

It’s a slippery-slope that first hot cross bun of the season. A steep descent towards carbohydrate-induced haze, but one I happily slide (earlier, and earlier) each year.

Introducing ‘The Plain-Cake Appreciation Society’ – a club for connoisseurs of uncomplicated bakes, simple cakes the general appreciation of pausing daily for tea and cake. Sound good?

Our lime and lemon trees are laden with fruit at the moment. This is making me feel quite smug – as I can duck out to the courtyard and pluck a few juicy limes or lemons whenever the fancy strikes. O is making the most of it, managing to consume her own weight in fresh lemonade most days, and Kip is not adverse to eating them straight from the tree…

In an inverse relationship to their size, small cakes hold a big place in my heart. For me, there is just something immensely likeable about them. Maybe it has something to do with nostalgia and the fact that they so easily transport you back to childhood – when the ultimate treat was a cupcake with pink icing, or better yet, a butterfly cake – or maybe it is that being small in size you feel less guilty about eating them and can therefore eat them without constraint…

‘And every creek a banker ran,
And dams filled overtop;
“We’ll all be rooned,” said Hanrahan,
“If this rain doesn’t stop.”‘

As I sat with the rain drumming on the roof, gutters over-flowing and big fat drops splattering the windows, this John O’Brien poem kept running loops in my head.