Recipe: Orange-Ginger Olive Oil Cake + Third Places & The Art of Gathering
In 1989, sociologist Ray Oldenburg gave us a name for something humans have always needed: the third place. Not home. Not work. Somewhere else entirely: the café, the pub, the library, the park bench where strangers become neighbors and neighbors become friends.
I've been thinking about third places constantly lately. After six years living throughout Europe in Ireland, Prague, Normandy, Portugal, I've come to understand what America has lost. The tables spilling onto sidewalks. The unhurried afternoons. The way a Tuesday in a European plaza can feel like a celebration simply because people have gathered, without agenda, without rushing, without clutching paper cups on their way somewhere else.
When I returned to the U.S. recently, the absence was glaring. Where were the gathering places? In their place: drive-throughs, parking lots, the lonely choreography of errands.
This is why Story Feast exists.
Every gathering we host in monasteries, castles, art museums, hidden spaces around the world, is an attempt to rebuild what we've lost. Long communal tables. Family-style service. Four or five hours where no one checks the time. Strangers becoming friends over food that someone cared enough to make extraordinary.
We can't fix everything that's broken. But we can create spaces where people sit together, pass dishes, tell stories, and remember what it feels like to belong somewhere.
I wrote more about all of this including a deeper exploration about what third places are, the data on loneliness, the decline of libraries and VFW halls and bowling leagues, what I've witnessed in Europe, and what I think we can do about it. It’s all in my latest newsletter. It's one of the most personal things I've written in a while.
A Third Place Kind of Cake
The recipe below comes from a kitchen in the medina of Fes, where I stood shoulder to shoulder with a woman named Nabila while she taught me to make it. Her kitchen was tiny. The generosity of the space was enormous because of what she put into it and what she expected from it: that people would come, sit, eat, stay.
This is that kind of cake. The kind you set on a table and watch disappear slice by slice while conversation deepens and no one checks the time. The olive oil makes it impossibly tender. The pistachios give it a faintly green-gold interior. The orange blossom water, if you use it, makes the whole thing bloom into something you'll dream about later.
It's better on the second day. It keeps beautifully. It's the thing you make when you want someone to stay longer.
Orange-Ginger Olive Oil Cake with Pistachios and Orange Blossom Water
Makes 1 large cake (serves 8-10)Prep Time: 20 minutes | Bake Time: 45-50 minutes
Ingredients:
120g / 1 cup whole wheat flour
60g / ½ cup self-rising flour
75g / ¾ cup ground pistachios
½ tsp fine sea salt
1 tsp ground ginger
3 large eggs, at room temperature
200g / 1 cup granulated sugar
Zest of 2 medium oranges
Zest of 1 lemon
180ml / ¾ cup extra virgin olive oil
120ml / ½ cup freshly squeezed orange juice (about 2 small oranges)
1 tbsp / 15ml orange blossom water (optional but highly recommended)
1 tsp vanilla extract
50g / ⅓ cup roughly chopped pistachios, for finishing
Method:
Preheat the oven to 175°C / 350°F. Grease a 23cm / 9-inch round cake pan and line the bottom with parchment paper.
Sift together both flours, the ground pistachios, salt, and ginger in a medium bowl and set aside.
In a large bowl, beat the eggs and sugar together with a whisk or hand mixer until the mixture is pale, thick, and falls from the whisk in a slow ribbon, about 3 minutes of vigorous whisking by hand or 2 minutes with a mixer. Add the orange zest and lemon zest and whisk until fragrant and slightly golden.
Drizzle in the olive oil in a slow, steady stream, whisking continuously, then add the orange juice, the orange blossom water if using, and the vanilla extract, whisking until smooth and emulsified. The batter should be glossy.
Add the dry ingredients in two additions, folding gently with a spatula each time until just combined. The batter will be quite liquid and pourable, this is exactly right.
Pour into the prepared pan and tap gently against the counter to release any large air bubbles.
Bake for 45 to 50 minutes, until the top is deeply golden and a skewer inserted into the center comes out clean or with only a few moist crumbs. The cake will dome slightly and settle as it cools.
Let cool in the pan for at least 20 minutes before turning out onto a serving plate. Scatter the chopped pistachios across the top, pressing gently so they adhere. Sprinkle with additional orange zest for color.
This cake keeps well in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 4 days… it's almost better on the second day when the crumb has fully absorbed the olive oil and the citrus has mellowed into something rounder and warmer.
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