[Recipe] Lemon and Ricotta Bundt Cake (Ciambellone al Limone con Ricotta) | A Cake for Remembering

“Cakes are special. Every birthday, every celebration ends with something sweet, a cake, and people remember. It’s all about the memories.”
— Buddy Valastro

I made this cake in memory of my Great Aunt Dina, who passed away earlier this year, just a month shy of her 101st birthday.

Born in Italy, she came to the U.S. when she was 4 years old, settling with her family in northeastern Pennsylvania. She was the oldest of 5 children, and she outlived them all. It’s hard to imagine all that she experienced in her 100-year lifetime. Her death marked the end of an era.

In the days after her death, I struggled to sharpen my memories of her legendary life, memories dulled by time and distance. I moved from Pennsylvania to Boston to attend college when I was 17, and once my parents, then my sisters, moved from Pennsylvania too, my visits back “home” from Massachusetts, then New Hampshire, became few and far between. We had plans to visit in February 2020 to attend Aunt Dina’s 100th birthday party, but alas, multiple bouts of influenza forced us to cancel our trip… and then the world shut down shortly thereafter, dashing any hopes we had of visiting her (or the rest of my family). Although we had kept in touch over the years via cards and letters (and drawings from my boys), the last time I saw my great aunt in person was in 2012. As such, most of my memories of her are from my childhood, fuzzy and gray.

My sister had shared a photo with me from when she had last visited our Aunt Dina at her home, a few years before she moved to a nursing home: She was still living alone at age 91, and in anticipation of my sister’s visit, she had baked her signature cake known as ciambellotto, an Italian-style Bundt cake scented with lemon and anise. In the days after her death, I kept coming back to that photo: my aunt dressed in a colorful blouse, hair and makeup impeccably done; the warm, orange-y glow of her pristine kitchen; the thick slices of sunshine-yellow cake served on flowery paper plates; her hands spotted and wrinkly, soft yet strong, like my grandmother’s (her younger sister). That photo shook the dust off my memory: I could almost taste that cake, feel the comforting warmth of her kitchen.

Aunt Dina would often say to us, “The same blood that runs in my veins, runs in yours.” So to honor her memory and our shared heritage, I baked her signature cake… well, my version of her cake. My ciambellone cake is a nod to my Italian heritage, with ricotta and olive oil (instead of milk and butter), extra lemon, and minus the anise (I’ve developed an aversion and possible sensitivity to anise in adulthood). My outspoken, opinionated aunt would probably disapprove of my changes: I recall her telling my mom “We don’t make it like this” after tasting my mom’s biscotti. But she was also unapologetically herself, so I served up thick slices of my cake to my husband and 2 boys, proudly and without apology, after we attended her funeral via Zoom. With each bite, scattered memories slowly came back to me—her love of baking, of her family, of feeding her loved ones—and I shared them with my boys over cake and a few tears. I had almost forgotten just how good this cake is: simple, rustic, and unfussy, yet tender and packed with bright flavor. The sunny yellow cake brightened up the gray recesses of my memory, connecting my kitchen to her kitchen, my love of baking cake and feeding others to hers. “The same blood that runs in my veins, runs in yours.” Indeed it does. I won’t ever forget that.

Lemon and Ricotta Bundt Cake (Ciambellone al Limone con Ricotta)

 

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Ciambellone—or ciambellotto, as it was known among the Italians in northeastern Pennsylvania where I grew up—is a simple Italian-style Bundt cake, usually baked in a round, ring-shaped (Bundt) pan, hence the name. (“Ciambellone” translates to “big ring” or, more loosely, “big donut.”) There are probably as many versions of ciambellone/ciambellotto/ciambella cakes in Italy as there are versions of Bundt cakes in America. My version began with my Aunt Dina’s lemon- and anise-scented ciambellotto, and after some tinkering over the years, it has gradually evolved into this version, with olive oil, ricotta, and extra lemon. The combination of olive oil and ricotta makes for a tender, moist cake with a delicate, slightly coarse crumb that keeps well for days. It’s the kind of everyday cake that Italian aunts and grandmothers keep on the kitchen counter to feed (un)expected visitors, and the kind of everyday cake that beckons to you from beneath a transparent cake dome to cut off a “sliver” for yourself each time you pass by the kitchen.

This lemon and ricotta Bundt cake is the equivalent of sunshine on a plate, a simple, surefire way to brighten anyone’s day, or any special occasion. (Indeed, I have made this cake for many occasions over the years—Easter, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, baby and bridal showers, holiday brunches—and it’s always a crowd-pleaser, disappearing quickly.) Although citrus fruits are at their peak during the winter months, a welcome respite from gloomy, gray days, I tend to crave light and bright lemon desserts like this one more often in the springtime. This lemon cake is equally at home brightening up a cold winter afternoon with a mug of hot tea, or echoing the brightness of a sunny spring day, made even more vibrant when served with in-season berries.

Endlessly versatile, this not-too-sweet cake can be enjoyed not only in any season, but also at any time of day: Serve it for dessert, as an afternoon snack, or even for breakfast as they do in Italy (with an espresso or cappuccino, of course). Keep it simple and no-frills and serve it plain or with a dusting of confectioners’ sugar, or dress it up with dollops of homemade whipped cream, fresh fruit, or a berry compote. You can even gild the lily and propel the cake firmly into the special-occasion dessert category by making a simple lemon glaze with confectioners’ sugar and lemon juice to drizzle over the top of the cake, but it certainly doesn’t need it. (And although my Aunt Dina would probably have frowned upon this extra step, I doubt her sweet tooth would have kept her from turning down a glazed slice.)

VEGETARIAN

Author: Wholesome Family Kitchen

Serves: 12 to 16, depending on how large you cut the slices

Ingredients

• • Nonstick cooking spray for coating Bundt pan
• • 3 cups all-purpose flour
• • 4 teaspoons baking powder
• • Scant ¾ teaspoon kosher salt
  
  
• • 1½ cups natural cane sugar
• • 2 tablespoons finely grated lemon zest (from about 2 large lemons)
• • 1 cup mild-flavored extra-virgin olive oil *
• • 1 tablespoon vanilla extract
• • 1 (16-oz.) container whole-milk ricotta cheese (about 1¾ cups)
• • 4 large eggs, room temperature
  
  
• • Confectioners’ sugar, for dusting on top of finished cake

Instructions

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Spray the interior of a 12-cup Bundt pan generously with nonstick spray, making sure to get into all the crevices.
2. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt.
3. In a large bowl, vigorously whisk together the sugar and lemon zest until the sugar is moist and fragrant. (Alternatively, you can rub the lemon zest into the sugar using your fingertips, which will help break down the zest and release more of the lemon oil.) Add the olive oil and vanilla and whisk to combine. Add the ricotta and eggs; whisk until well combined.
4. Add the flour mixture to the wet ingredients and stir with a rubber spatula until all of the flour is incorporated. (I sometimes continue using a whisk here to more easily mix the flour into the thick batter; just be sure not to overbeat the mixture or you might end up with a less-tender cake.)
5. Scrape the batter into the prepared Bundt pan, smooth the top, and gently tap the pan on the counter to settle the batter. Bake, rotating the pan halfway through baking time, until a tester inserted in the center just comes out clean, about 40 to 50 minutes. (Baking times will vary depending on the size and depth of your pan; also, pans with a darker interior can bake the cake more quickly. To be safe, I usually start checking mine around the 30-minute mark.)
6. Let the cake cool in the pan for 15 minutes, then carefully turn out the cake onto a wire rack and let cool completely. Just before serving, dust cake with confectioners’ sugar. The cake can be kept, covered, at room temperature, for 2 to 3 days. (I keep mine on a cake plate covered with a plastic cake dome for a day or 2, then if there are still any leftover slices beyond day 2, I store them in an airtight container at room temperature to keep them from drying out too much... but, truth be told, it’s rare we have any leftovers beyond day 2.)

Notes

* I use olive oil in a lot of my baked goods because I really like the depth of flavor it brings, and it’s good for you too! (My favorite olive oil to use for baking is California Olive Ranch Mild Blend Extra-Virgin Olive Oil, as it’s relatively mild-tasting with a subtle buttery flavor.) You can certainly use canola oil or another neutral-flavored oil instead of olive oil in this recipe, if you prefer.

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If you like this recipe, you might also enjoy:

• Lemon-Ricotta Muffins
• Strawberry Shortcakes with Yogurt Whipped Cream
• Apple Cider Donut Cake