A Monday Morning Orange Cake
For weeks, the thought of baking an orange cake stayed with me like a small promise I kept postponing. I had already done the practical parts more than once. The flour was measured and kept aside, the other ingredients laid out on the counter, and then, without any clear reason, everything would go back into its place. It wasn’t about time or effort. It was more about a certain reluctance that settles in when you do not feel fully present. Some days, even gentle plans feel heavier than they should, and it is easier to delay them than to question why you are hesitating. This Monday morning, however, felt quieter and more forgiving. The house was still wrapped in early light, and there was no urgency pressing against the walls. I found myself in the kitchen before the day had a chance to become noisy. There was a calmness in moving slowly, in not rushing through familiar steps. I cut the orange into two-halves horizontally carefully, removed the seeds, and cut them into small, bite-sized pieces. Instead of just using the juice, I decided to blend the whole orange with the peel. There was something comforting about not stripping the fruit down to only what was “necessary,” but allowing its bitterness and fragrance to become part of the cake.I am not a great baker, and I have never claimed to be one. I can manage simple cakes and familiar recipes, the kind that do not ask for precision or fancy techniques. Maybe that is why I kept putting this one off. Not because it was difficult, but because I tend to overthink even small things when I step into the kitchen. This time, I decided to keep it simple and not expect more from myself than I could give that morning. Recipe: Whole Orange Cake (With Peel) Ingredients 1½ cups all-purpose flour ¾ cup sugar 2 eggs ½ cup oil or melted butter 1 whole orange, seeds removed and cut into small pieces (use the peel) 1 tsp baking powder ½ tsp baking soda 1 tsp vanilla extract A pinch of salt Method Preheat the oven to 180°C (350°F) and grease a small baking tin. Add the orange pieces with peel, eggs, sugar, oil or melted butter, and vanilla extract to a blender. Blend until smooth. In a separate bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Gently fold the blended orange mixture into the dry ingredients until just combined. Do not overmix. Pour the batter into the prepared loaf tin and smooth the top lightly. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Let the cake cool slightly before slicing. I set the timer and stepped away from the oven, telling myself I would not hover over it the way I usually do. The quiet ticking in the background became a soft reminder that something was in progress, even when I wasn’t actively doing anything. There was comfort in letting time do its work, in trusting that the cake would be ready when it was ready, without me checking every few minutes.Once the kitchen began to fill with a warm, citrus scent, the space felt different. The smell was not sharp or overpowering, but soft and steady, the kind that makes a home feel lived in, even on an ordinary weekday morning. I stood there for a while, not out of impatience, but because it felt good to be in that moment without rushing toward the next thing.When the cake was finally done, it came out with gentle cracks on the top and a softness that showed when I pressed lightly against it. It was not perfect, but it was honest, and that felt right for the morning I was having. Cutting into it while it was still warm, I felt a small but real sense of happiness. Not the kind that comes with big achievements, but the quieter kind that follows through on a small intention you had been carrying for a while.There are days when we wait for the right mood to arrive before we begin anything. We tell ourselves we will bake when we feel inspired, write when we feel motivated, and rest when we feel less guilty about resting.But this morning reminded me that the mood often follows the action, not the other way around. I did not wake up feeling especially enthusiastic about baking. I simply started. Somewhere between washing the orange and watching the cake rise in the oven, the heaviness eased. It did not fix everything, but it made the morning gentler. Sometimes, that small shift is all we need.