I couldn’t give you a week of fennel pollen without throwing some sweet treats at you, now could I? Another reason I love fennel pollen is its ability to transcend the lines that often divide sweet and savory ingredients. It’s often easy to place an ingredient beneath the sweet or savory banner, but that is not the case here. If someone asked me to choose using fennel pollen in either sweet or savory applications for the rest of my life, I’d be hard-pressed to choose.

This cake is the stuff of legend as far as I’m concerned. It’s not too sweet and gets a hint of tanginess from the buttermilk that is only amplified by the vanilla creme fraiche dolloped on top. I’ve served this for birthdays, team gatherings, dinner parties, and pity parties. The fennel pollen takes this to a place where warm cake and bright, summery fennel flavors meet and have a dance party on your taste buds. Naturally, you’ll want to throw some poached pears or berries on the side of this, which I fully support. This cake- and the creme fraiche- loves fruit. Try it with whatever is in season, or keep it simple with the creme fraiche. Either way, your life needs a little sweetness and you deserve an extra dose of fennel pollen. Enjoy!

Fennel Pollen Buttermilk Cake
Serves 12

• 2 ¼ cups all-purpose flour
• 1 tablespoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 stick unsalted butter, softened
• 1/2 cup granulated sugar
• 1/2 cup light brown sugar
• 4 large egg yolks
• 1 1/2 teaspoons fennel pollen
• 2/3 cup buttermilk
• 1 cup crème fraîche
• 1/2 vanilla bean, split and seeds scraped
• 1/4 cup confectioners’ sugar

Preheat the oven to 350°. Butter a 9-inch cake pan and line it with a 9-inch round of parchment paper. Butter the parchment paper.

In a bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder and salt. In a large bowl, using a handheld mixer, beat the butter with both sugars at medium-high speed until light and fluffy. Add the yolks, one at a time, beating well between additions. Beat in fennel pollen. At low speed, alternately beat in the flour mixture and the buttermilk until almost blended. With a rubber spatula, finish folding the mixture together just until smooth. Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and bake for about 35 minutes, until a cake tester inserted in the center comes out clean. Transfer the cake to a rack to cool completely.

In a small bowl, combine the crème fraîche, vanilla seeds and confectioners’ sugar.

Unmold the cake onto a plate, top with vanilla crème fraiche, and serve.

It’s here, the most exciting week for food to date has finally arrived. Matt and I share a serious love for fennel pollen, so we’re taking full advantage of that love and it’s taking over the blog this week.

IT’S FENNEL POLLEN WEEK!

We’ll be sharing a daily recipe all week using this addicting ingredient, and we’re starting off with a personal favorite of mine.

First, let’s just talk about the pollen. It’s easily my favorite part of the entire plant. That’s saying a lot, considering I was that weird kid that brought thin slices of fennel bulb to school with me in my younger years as part of my lunch. Fennel is a personal favorite of mine for salads and as parts of roasted veggies and stocks. The seeds are a fun option for sauces, homemade sausage, and spice rubs. But really, the pollen is the most magical part.

The pollen is easily harvested by shaking fennel flowers over your hand or a small bag in the high summer months, but the yield is quite small. I spent an hour doing this last summer and barely had half an ounce. Use it fresh or dry, both will make you a happy, happy eater. The dried version here has a really fantastic flavor and an even better aroma than the fresh version. Either way, what fennel pollen has to offer is really extraordinary. The aroma is both sweet and spicy, with its classic hint of anise, but also with a honey and citrus finish. The flavor instantly takes me to a place where it’s always summer. Those honey and citrus aromas are also present in the taste. Finally, it’s a flavor enhancer. I don’t care what anyone else says; fennel pollen intensifies the flavors of anything and elevates other sweet or savory components of your dish. Basically, it’s magical fairy dust.

Our most recent food discovery here at Caputo’s is the marriage of honey and fennel pollen. I’m taking advantage of this pairing twice this week, and for very good reason. The sweetness of the honey pairs incredibly well with the aroma and flavor from the pollen. Here, we’re using pan roasted carrots as the base for this combo.

Pan roasting carrots releases all the natural sugars from the carrots and makes them an easy choice as a side for roasted or braised meats and creamy polenta. I love bringing them to the brink of burning to get that really nice, caramelized flavor and texture on the exterior, which is made easier and more delicious with Clifford honey. These end up being sweet, decadent carrot candy. When finished with your magical fennel pollen fairy dust right after they come out of the pan, these carrots will steal the show.

Honey Glazed Carrots with Fennel Pollen
Serves 4 as a side

• 20-25 petite carrots or 10-16 medium carrots, peeled (either works great, but try to find all that are of a uniform size)
• 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 1-2 large spoonfuls honey
• Salt and pepper, to taste
• 1 teaspoon fennel pollen

Heat a large stainless steel skillet, melt butter over medium heat. Add carrots in one even layer, and raise heat to just higher than medium. Turn carrots a few times over the course of about 15-20 minutes so all sides are browned and carrots are tender. Drizzle a spoonful of honey over the carrots, toss, and keep on the heat for another 1-2 minutes. Salt and pepper to taste and finish with the sprinkling of ¾ of the fennel pollen. Toss once more and transfer to a serving dish and finish with the remaining fennel pollen before serving.

One of the understated pleasures I have experienced in my years working for Caputo’s has been watching the gradual transformation and growth of our cheese selection to include some phenomenal domestic cheeses.

Although we remain a Southern European specialty foods store, in my mind, cheese is one of the primary things that sets us apart. Now we, in the good ol’ U.S. of A., may not have as much practice as say, France, but we are making some damn good cheese these days. One of the companies that have been at the heart of the American-made cheese renaissance is Jasper Hill Farm in Greensboro, Vermont.

Jasper Hill is a small dairy farm that’s making a big difference with the food they produce. They are drawing well-earned acclaim for their fantastic skill at promoting the terroir of the Northeast. Jasper Hill has received a lot of deserved fame for their affinage but their creamery is no slouch either. Now to the matter at hand: Harbison, which is my favorite domestic cheese. Well, at least today (I really like cheese).

Harbison, named for a Greensboro icon, comes as a small, self-contained wheel, which weighs about two-thirds of a pound. It has a delicate, white, bloomy rind that is incased in spruce bark early in its six to 13 week aging. Some people mistakenly call this soft ripened cheese a domestic attempt at Camembert or Vacherin Mont d’Or. Comparing Harbison to other cheeses as a sort of poor man’s substitute really cheapens what it is. Harbison is not Camembert. It doesn’t have to be. Harbison is Harbison and it’s really, really good.

When you open a wheel of Harbison you will notice the soft, spreadable texture. Eat this with a spoon or spread on a good baguette. Don’t overthink it. Harbison is rich with woody and vegetal notes like roasted vegetables and mushrooms. Where this cheese really stands out is that those notes are offset with a citrusy sweetness that knocks it out of the park.

Pair this with a good white wine like Latour Grand Ardeche, a French white which is routinely the single best steal in any wine store (I think it’s about $14.99 right now, 2015) and you will have made your evening complete.

The next time you are watching the news and some talking head says something like, “We used to make things in this country,” do what I do, eat some Harbison and celebrate to yourself the fact that some people still do.