Our first winter in Rome was something of a non-event, climatically speaking. As a born and bred Midwesterner, I am accustomed to (although not enamored with) proper winters: subzero temperatures, snow, ice, wind, the whole shebang.

Rome, in contrast, was unbelievably—and perhaps unseasonably, according to acquaintances—mild. Sure, there were some grey and rainy days, and a handful when I needed to wear a parka, but the biggest surprise of the winter was how mild it was, so much so that it was nearly indistinguishable from spring. The magnolias bloomed in February, and we wandered the gardens at Villa d’Este in light jackets. In March the tulips were out and we hiked around Frascati in shirtsleeves. By April, the wisteria was in full scent and color, and it was almost too warm for a few days in Florence.

With seasons unlike those I’m used to, the surest way I’ve found to keep track of the progress of time in Rome is to go to the market. When the flood of Sicilian citrus fruits is at its zenith, it’s winter. When you start seeing buckets of cold water full of puntarelle, spring is just around the corner. Artichokes, asparagus, and strawberries appear next. And through it all, there are lemons.

In December, we began noticing that the kinda-regular looking leafy green trees we’d walked by for months were sprouting yellow globes. It wasn’t just one or two trees, and it wasn’t just a few fruits on each tree—it was a truly extravagant amount. Around our neighborhood, along the train tracks through the city, roads in and out of town: everywhere we turned, there they were. There are orange trees, too, but that fruit came and went relatively quickly; the lemons seemed there to stay. Even now, they shine out of dark leaves, competing with the bougainvillea blossoms.

You’d think people would use all of that fruit, but you’d be wrong. The ground underneath most of the trees was littered with it, so we felt we had no choice but to “liberate” some of the lemons from neighborhood trees. We juiced a great many, squeezed it onto fish, made it into salad dressings or lemon curd. I also became fixated on the idea of the perfect lemon cake: tender, with fresh lemon flavor in every bite. After many (many) attempts, I landed on this one. There’s lemon zest in the cake batter, which I bake in an 8″ round tin, rather than a loaf pan, so that the soaking syrup gets in deeper. The confectioner’s sugar and lemon juice glaze gives it an extra sweet-sour punch. This cake might just be the taste I think of whenever I remember our first winter and spring in Italy.

Very Lemon-y Lemon Cake

Sources: Adapted from King Arthur Flour

Makes one 8″ cake

Active time: 30 minutes; total time ~65 minutes

Notes:

• You can control how lemon-y you want this cake to taste. Use more lemon zest in the cake batter, or more lemon juice in the glaze, if you want a stronger flavor, and less if you want a more subtle one.
• This cake is even better the day after it’s made. Giving it more time to sit before serving means the syrup has more time to soak in, permeating the cake with additional flavor.

Cake Ingredients:

• 200 grams granulated sugar
• 2–6 lemons (use the greater number if you have very small lemons or want more lemon flavor)
• 110 grams butter, at room temperature + more for greasing the pan
• 2 eggs
• 180 grams all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon salt (plus more, to taste)
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 115 grams milk

Soaking Syrup Ingredients:

• 75 grams fresh lemon juice
• 150 grams granulated sugar

Glaze Ingredients:

• 125 grams confectioners’ sugar
• 2–3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

Directions:

• Make the cake: Preheat your oven to 350°F. Butter and flour an 8″ cake pan; set aside.
• Weigh the sugar into the bottom of a large mixing bowl. Zest the lemons into the sugar, then rub the zest into the sugar with your fingers until well combined and fragrant.
• Add the butter to the lemon zest/sugar mixture and beat in with an electric mixer until fluffy. Add the eggs, one at a time, scrapping down the sides of the bowl between additions.
• Add the flour in three parts (60 grams each time), alternating with the milk, beating well to combine. Your last addition of dry ingredient should be 60 grams of flour plus the salt and baking powder. Scrap down the sides of the bowl with a spatula, and give it one last stir.
• Pour the batter into the prepared cake pan, and smooth the top. Bake the cake for ~35 minutes, or until a cake tester inserted into the middle of the cake comes out with just a few crumbs clinging.
• Make the soaking syrup: While the cake is baking, stir together the lemon juice and sugar. Microwave it on low power for a minute or so, then stir until the sugar dissolves.
• Once the cake comes out of the oven, slowly and evenly pour the soaking syrup over it. Let the syrup soak in and the cake cool.
• Make the glaze: Once the cake has cooled, stir together the confectioners’ sugar and lemon juice. You can control the thickness of the glaze by adding more or less lemon juice. Pour it over the top of the cake, smoothing if needed, and let set before cutting and serving.