See, everyone’s about that lemon loaf cake you get at Starbucks, and I guess that it’s good. I’ve never actually eaten more than a bite of it, and it’s tasty, but I wish they’d make a lime version. I wouldn’t be able to stop at just a bite.

This cake is sweet and tangy at the same time, filled through and through with fresh lime juice and zest. It’s even in the glaze. Somebody (cough, cough) couldn’t stop licking the glaze bowl.

Years ago, I learned about Seasonal Affective Disorder (also known very appropriately as SAD) and it was very much a “duh” moment. I mean, no kidding. We’re sadder when it’s cold and gray outside? Isn’t that kind of a no-brainer?

I don’t think I realized how insidious SAD could be until Kenny told me last week that every winter, he can see the change in my personality. I must not be that self-aware, because I had no idea. I guess I do get gloomy, but I didn’t realize other people could tell.

It’s like when I was pregnant. When I was in that condition, I was incredibly blunt. I’d blurt out the first thing that came into my head, and I think the only thing that saved me was that I happened to be pregnant. Otherwise, people would have  gotten justifiably more irritated by it. But then one time, a student jokingly referred to me as an “angry pregnant woman,” and I was totally shocked. That wasn’t how I saw myself at all. But maybe I was being more angsty at the time.

It’s hard to see yourself accurately, and when other people offer you a glimpse, it’s not easy to decide whether to believe them or not. My students (teenagers might be too candid at times) have also told me that I am very intimidating. It’s weird for me to hear that, because in my head, I’m a harmless, literature-loving dessert addict. Intimidating? Really?

I guess we never truly know ourselves, but maybe other people don’t, either. We all project versions of ourselves outward consciously, but it’s impossible to control how others will interpret us. The sooner we realize that perceptions don’t equal truth, and that we need to consider multiple points of view, the better off we’ll probably be.

And hey, Starbucks needs to consider offering a lime loaf. Nothing will cure SAD faster than a solid zip of lime to the senses. I’ve mentioned it before, but lime is summer in a little zesty citrus fruit.

This cake is pretty delightful. It’s got butter, yes, which helps. And it’s also got the perfect balance of lime to even out the sweetness. All you need is one lime and a microplane zester. Those are the best kitchen gadgets ever.

If you’re having a rough winter, or if someone isn’t seeing you the way you perceive yourself, there’s always loaf cake. It’s a lot easier to get perspective after a sunny snack.

We all have our version of that, the near-impossible summit that we can’t reach no matter how hard we try. For years, that was my grandmother’s mocha bread. When I was little, I didn’t like apple pie. Chalk it up to youthful foolishness. So when my grandmother made the pie, she’d also make this bread. And I loved it. It was so special that I’d eat it slowly, sliver by sliver, to make it last. Usually, I gobble up my dessert. But this was too special.

And when I grew up, I tried to make it. Over and over again I followed the recipe, calling my grandmother each time I failed. It was too light in color, or too heavy in weight. What was I doing wrong? It got to the point where I suspected her of recipe sabotage.

Finally, about a year ago and shortly after my grandmother’s death, I got the mocha bread right. I’m still not sure exactly what I did to make it correctly other than acquire more knowledge and skill, but I feel like the torch has been passed. She was a phenomenal baker who used scant resources in harder times to make amazing food. Later in life, she still had the knack for producing recipes that nobody else seemed to have.

So I’m sharing this piece of my family legacy with you. I almost want to call it a mocha pound cake, but I’ll hold back because though the crumb is dense, the bread is light and spongy. And as you’ll see, the chocolate is not dominant. The lighter brown color indicates that the bread really features coffee above chocolate, though both flavors come out in excellent balance.

I should also mention that I call this a bread because it’s a loaf cake, very much like a banana or pumpkin bread. It has that appealing softness and is never dry.

While I often encourage being experimental, don’t change things up when you’re making this. It just won’t turn out the same way. That’s why I’ve written the minutes into how long everything gets mixed. And when you’re scraping the melted chocolate into the mixing bowl, get as much of it into the batter as you can. That will produce the richness in color.

Having this bread with a cup of coffee is awesome, but it goes equally well with tea or, as I can attest to having first eaten it as a child, milk. And be ready: people will ask you for the recipe.

Ingredients:

• 2/3 cup butter or margarine, softened (the latter if you want to avoid dairy)
• 2 cups flour minus 2 tablespoons
• 1 and 1/2 cup sugar
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 tablespoon instant coffee
• 1/2 teaspoon cream of tartar
• 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 cup water
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 3 eggs
• 1 square unsweetened chocolate, melted

Instructions:

Preheat the oven to 325. Grease a loaf pan with cooking spray.

Combine the dry ingredients in a bowl and set aside.

Cream the butter or margarine in the bowl of a stand mixer. Add the dry ingredients and mix slowly. Add the water and vanilla, mixing until the flour is dampened, then beat more vigorously for two minutes.

Add the eggs and melted chocolate and then beat for an additional minute.

Pour the batter into the loaf pan and bake for 65-70 minutes until the edges are browned and the middle is firm. Test with a toothpick if in doubt.

Cool and remove from the pan. Using a serrated knife, cut into slices.