Apricot Almond Streuselkuchen

A less-sweet coffeecake for midsummer. With yeast.

It’s officially August, so we’re hitting Peak Summer here in Chicago. The frenzy of early summer has subsided, and the laid-back late summer vibe has pushed us back onto our beach towels like an airplane taking off.

We’re spoiled with good food that requires little effort. I must stop myself from eating too much fresh fruit. This year, the farmers keep bringing the apricots and I keep buying them. However, they’re one fruit that tastes just ok raw, but transforms when cooked. They turn from little sweet-but-somewhat-bland orbs into luscious bits of sweet-tart jammy goodness when cooked. They soften without getting too watery. They give up their pits them with barely any effort, and you don’t even need to peel them.

On Yeasted Cakes

I am rooting for yeasted “cakes" to come into vogue in America. (Angela Garbacz from Goldenrod Pastries in Lincoln, Nebraska takes a pro-yeasted coffeecakes stance, and I love her for that. I also love her cookbook and a sweater I bought from Goldenrod that says “Buns, Buns, Buns.”) I say “cakes” because most Americans would not recognize these as cakes. The Germans call them “kuchen,” which generally means cake. But they’re not the crumbly, buttery, sweet cakes we think of. Much lower in sugar and butter, with a bit of a bready but tender base, these treats might catch some folks off guard. If people ask me what they’re like, I say “dessert pizza.”

The base of this type of kuchen is an enriched, yeasted dough. Because this dough doesn’t contain much sugar, it tastes much less sweet than a traditional American coffeecake—even with a generous streusel topping.

Somehow these kuchen strike the right balance for me: sweet enough, but not as sweet as a piece of cake. And sturdy enough to pick up a piece and nosh.

The two Kuchen

A note on the term kuchen: When I was in Germany this April I got Rhubarberstreuselkuchen (rhubarb streusel cake) from two different Berlin bakeries. At the first bakery, the base was clearly a non-yeasted butter cake, whereas the second bakery made a yeasted bread-like base. Both were great. So kuchen can refer to a wide range of cake-like things. It’s a very broad term, just like cake in English.

(The photos above clearly illustrate that I choose fruit-based treats and the husband chooses the Zimtschnecken.)

Apricot Almond Stresuselkuchen

Apricots shine here, their tartness sings and their not-too-juicy quality keeps the kuchen from getting too soggy. Yes, yeast plays a role. But it's easy and almost foolproof. Unlike a loaf of bread, you don't have to worry about it under- or over-proofing. Plus, you don’t want to knead it very much so that it stays tender. Adding some cornmeal to the streusel guarantees a nice crunch.

Makes one 9-inch square kuchen.

Dough

240 g (2 cups) all purpose flour

1 teaspoon instant yeast

1 teaspoon kosher salt

Zest of 1/2 of a lemon, finely grated

100 g milk, room temperature

30 g honey

60 g butter, melted and cooled slightly

1 large egg, room temperature

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Streusel

80 g sugar

60 g all-purpose flour

60 g corn flour (NOT cornstarch) or medium-grind cornmeal (NOT polenta)

1/2 tsp kosher salt

80 g butter, cold

80 g raw almonds, sliced, slivered, or roughly chopped

Fruit

400 g fresh apricots

2 tablespoons sugar

In the bowl of a stand mixer, weigh out the flour, then add the yeast, salt and lemon zest. Whisk briefly to combine. Make a well in the center of the flour, then weigh in the milk, honey, and melted butter. Add the egg and vanilla extract. Fit the mixer with a paddle attachment and knead on low speed for 1 minute, then increase to medium-low speed (speed 2 on a KitchenAid) and knead for 5 minutes. The dough will still be pretty sticky. (Since this dough is acting more like a crust and less like a loaf of bread, you don't need to fully develop the gluten. Actually, you don’t want to develop too much gluten, or else the finished kuchen will be tough.) Scrape down the bowl and beater. Cover the bowl and let it sit at room temperature for an hour. If you want to make the recipe later, refrigerate the dough for up to 24 hours. (This is my preference.) If baking right away, let the dough rise for another 30 minutes at room temperature.

When you're ready to assemble the kuchen, grease the sides and bottom of a 9-inch square cake pan with butter or cooking spray. I like to use one with a removable bottom, like this one, so that I can easily get it out of the pan. Cut a piece of parchment into a 9-inch by 12-inch rectangle and set it on your counter. Set the dough in the middle of the parchment, then roll or press the dough into an even 9-inch square, leaving 1 1/2 inch strips of parchment on either side as handles. Using the parchment as a sling, grab the “handles” and transfer the dough into the prepared pan. If needed, press the dough into the pan a bit to make sure that the dough goes all the way to the edge. Cover the pan (I just use a baking sheet, to avoid unnecessary use of single-use plastic.) and let it sit for 30 minutes if the dough was at room temperature or 45 minutes if the dough was cold.

Meanwhile, prepare the crumble. In a medium mixing bowl, weigh your sugar, flour, corn flour, and salt then whisk to combine. Cube your butter and add it to the bowl. With your hands, pinch and rub the butter into the dry mixture until you don't see any chunks of butter and the streusel can hold together in big clumps when you squeeze it. Add in the sliced/slivered/chopped almonds and toss to combine. Cover and refrigerate this mixture until you need it. You can make this streusel up to a day ahead of time (keep it covered in the refrigerator).

Heat your oven to 350F with a rack on the top third of the oven. Halve and pit the apricots, then cut each half into 3 slices. Lay the apricots on top of the dough in neat rows, with their skin-side down. Tuck them in snugly. You may have a few extra slices, but feel free to just cram them in. Sprinkle the apricots with 2 Tablespoons of sugar. Top the apricots with the streusel, squeezing to make some medium-sized chunks of topping. Make sure that the streusel goes all the way to the edge of the pan: no one wants an edge piece without the crunchy topping.

Bake the kuchen for 40-50 minutes, until the streusel is just turning golden brown in spots and the almonds look toasty, but not burnt. Start checking the kuchen at 40 minutes, because it will depend on your oven. (My old oven took 40 minutes, and my new one takes 50 minutes.) Remove the kuchen from the oven and let it cool for at least 30 minutes before eating. You can leave it in the pan, but if you have a removable-bottom pan, you can remove the kuchen and slide it onto a serving platter. (Note: Because of the honey in the dough, the crust gets a very deep golden brown.)

I like to serve this plain, or sprinkled with powdered sugar and a dollop unsweetened whipped cream to cuddle the kuchen. It makes a lovely breakfast alongside with a big scoop of yogurt drizzled with honey.

Happy Baking,
Martin

PS. I love wearing a sweater during summer mornings and evenings. This kuchen is like that sweater.

PPS. According to some acclaimed British TV personalities/bakers, a coffeecake is a coffee-flavored cake. In America, a coffeecake is any casual, often streusel-topped cake that you eat with coffee. Or just eat on it’s own. And it’s rarely coffee-flavored.