In every Portuguese family, there’s a cake that comes out of the oven like a little sun: the pão de ló. Golden, airy, soft, it always announces something joyful. It’s the cake of dressed-up Sundays, overfilled tables, and aunts who hug you too tightly while saying how much you’ve grown.

The ingredients of happiness (and celebration)

• 6 eggs (real ones, not those with a hint of fridge taste)
• 200 g of sugar
• 150 g of flour
• A pinch of salt
• A little lemon zest (optional, but it brings back memories)

Preparation of sweetness (and a bit of patience)

1. We start by whisking joy: break the eggs and beat them with the sugar until the mixture becomes pale, light, frothy, alive.
2. Add the flour gently, as if you were rocking childhood. Fold it in little by little, without breaking the foam. The secret of softness lies there: in the tenderness of the gesture.
3. A bit of lemon zest, a pinch of salt, and you’re already transported to a kitchen that smells like celebration and freshly ironed tablecloths.
4. Pour the batter into a tin lined with baking paper, raised well up the sides, that’s what gives the cake its lovely brown skirt as it bakes.
5. Bake at 180°C for 25 to 30 minutes. The outside should be golden, almost dry, and the heart still trembling, a bit like the emotions we hide under the smiles of big family gatherings.

The memory that lingers on the palate

At my home, pão de ló is the scent of Easter Sunday. The clinking of plates, the sun hitting the curtains, and my grandmother watching the oven as if it held a state secret.

When she took it out, she always said:

“You have to let it breathe, just like the people you love.”

To be served with a strong coffee, a chat about the rain and the neighbours, and that little Portuguese pride that says: “No one beats our cakes, not even the French.”

Cooking is… golden, light and a little sentimental.

L.R.