Oh, I'll eat cake.

But first, I must preface this by admitting I'm not a dessert person. I know, you don't need to tell me; more than once, I've questioned my own authority in the blogosphere -- as a would-be "food blogger" no less -- where so many people are swapping stories about cakes and crumbles and pies and tarts (one would think they include a copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking with the sale of every MacBook Pro). Several friends (and several more ex-boyfriends) have admonished me for my boredom as a dinner companion; no sooner does the dessert menu go down than I'm asking about cheese in the same breath as I'm ordering another glass of wine. If I could, I'd write about eggs every day, but we've seen where that will get us. Instead, I've tried to find a balance: an egg soliloquy here, a salad recipe there, a mention of chocolate every once in a tweet. Perhaps no one would've noticed, had I not let the cat out of the bag just now. Is it not best, though, to beat the naysayers to the punch? I thought so.

No, that's not true. What I thought yesterday afternoon, as I cleaned out our pantry on a head-cold driven rampage, was, "Why do we own four and half [insert expletive here] bags of powdered sugar? Four and a half! I don't even like dessert!" Then: "What the [expletive] am I going to do with four and a half [expletive] bags of powdered sugar!?" Then, I sat down I had some water. And while I calmed down, I Googled "powdered sugar" and studied up on frosting and sugar cookies.

This knowledge will likely remain unused, since I plan to maintain my "I'd-rather-eat-cheese" stance against the sweet stuff (although, you never know, next Christmas could be the one where I finally make those gift boxes I've been planning all these years). But this cake I stumbled upon, then made and ate in its entirety (there were five of us) wasn't that sweet. Yes, it made an amazing dessert, still warm from the oven and served with some strawberries a friend salvaged from his local bodega. But I suspect this cake would make a fine breakfast or afternoon snack, as well. It's made with lemon and yogurt, so it's light enough for any time of day and any season, too. More than that, it's easy: I whipped it up in 10 minutes (it then bakes for 30). So, in the time it takes to eat dinner (including a proper cheese course) and finish that bottle of wine, you can bake this cake, allow it to cool and set some water to boil for tea. Last night, I made chamomile spiked with bourbon. Alongside a slice of this beauty, I felt like I was indulging in a deconstructed hot toddy.

Dessert naysayer to hipster pastry chef in one pantry cleaning. Where is my mind?

French-style yogurt cake with lemon and sugar glaze
Adapted from Orangette*

Cake

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup granulated sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 cup plain yogurt
1/2 cup grape seed oil
3 large eggs
2 teaspoons grated lemon zest

Glaze

1/4 cup powdered sugar
Juice of 2 lemons

Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees.

In a large bowl, combine sugar, yogurt and eggs. Stir well. Add flour, baking powder and lemon zest. Add oil, and stir into a smooth batter.

Pour into a buttered 9-inch round cake pan.

Bake approximately 30-35 minutes, until cake feels springy to the touch and a toothpick tests clean. Do not over bake.

Cool -- in pan -- for 20 minutes, then turn cake out of the pan to cool completely.

Once cake is thoroughly cooled, combine lemon juice and powdered sugar in a small bowl. Spoon over cake. Glaze will be thin and will soak into cake.

Serves 8-10.

* Note: According to Orangette: "This type of cake is an old classic in France, the sort of humble treat that a grandmother would make. Traditionally, the ingredients are measured in a yogurt jar, a small glass cylinder that holds about 125 ml. Because most American yogurts don't come in such smart packaging, you'll want to know that 1 jar equals about 1/2 cup." I converted the recipe above, but the next time I get my hands on a yogurt jar, I'm making this cake the French grandma way.