shiokadelicious!

IMBB 8 – Part I: Two “Spirited” Chiffon Sisters

Random food ideas sometimes have a funny way of creeping – unannounced and most often uninvited – into my consciousness. And very often, once there, they refuse to leave until I get off my derriere and do something active about them – in the kitchen; creating whatever entity it is that has been preoccupying my mind. Occasionally, these ad hoc “inspirations” (if you can call them that) feel like insidious invasions; they can be triggered by the most innocent of stimuli, and yet, once happily ensconced within the recesses of my mind, they simply will not budge until I bring them to life in the physical dimension.

Take for instance my recent bout of “preoccupation” with chiffon cakes. It started with a grocery buying trip to Carrefour hypermarket. I happened to stroll past the rack displaying rows and rows of pandan chiffon cakes. The huge sign above them screamed their special offer price of only $2.99 (US$1.75) for one whole cake. Sub-consciously, I mused: why is it that chiffon cakes in this part of the world are almost invariably pandan-flavored? I mean, they are ubiquitous in all the supermarkets and bakeries. They all look the same, taste pretty much the same, and in all likelihood all come from the same one (or maybe two) factories. The most exciting that life gets for a chiffon cake here is perhaps to be flavored in chocolate rather than pandan!

And that was the simple trigger that set off a whole chain of baking activity. Once started, the thoughts on chiffon cakes could not be stemmed. Even as I continued to place items into my shopping cart, my mind stayed resolutely on chiffon cakes. I’ve never made a chiffon cake before. Would you believe? Decades ago, in the time before commercially available chiffon cakes, my mum used to bake them quite regularly – also in the pandan flavor. But it has been literally decades since I’ve last eaten a home-made chiffon cake (I mean, at only a few dollars for a whole cake in the shops, few can be bothered to heat up the oven and make one from scratch). I’ve even forgotten what a “true” chiffon cake tastes like – my only active memories are of not-terribly-exciting, hardly-very-tasty commercial ones. Hmmmm… maybe… maybe I should try my hand at making a chiffon cake. Maybe I can jazz it up a little, and give it a more exciting spin…

The thought would not go away. The only way to appease it and put it to rest was to get into the kitchen and make that chiffon cake.

So out came my mum’s treasured 30-year-old recipe notebook. As I flipped through the carefully handwritten pages, I came across several chiffon cake recipes. On the whole, there were little differences between them – some called for a couple more eggs, while others had slight variations to the method for mixing the batter. I kind of picked several ideas from here, a couple more from there, and settled on a recipe that I felt I wanted to try.

After the basic recipe had been decided upon, I became quite taken with the idea of using nuts or at least the flavor of nuts in the cake. I wondered why chiffon cakes were never (not that I’ve seen at least) made with nuts. I would have thought nuts would add a delicious fragrance to the cake. Yep. That was it. I was going to try to make an almond flavored chiffon cake. However, in order to keep the texture light, I didn’t want to add nuts (ground or otherwise) into the cake batter itself. Almond essence as flavoring didn’t seem ideal either ; I sometimes found it to be too obvious and jarring. Then it struck me: why not liven things up a bit at the same time, and push the envelope even further - I could use amaretto in the batter (and maybe only sprinkle almond slices on the top of the cake). Now, I had never seen a boozy chiffon cake before, so I wasn’t sure what effect, if any, the alcohol would have on the texture of the batter. But it sounded exciting enough to give it a shot.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Before we get to the cake though, let’s talk about the chiffon cake pan (which, if I’m not wrong is identical to what is known as the angel food pan in the US).

This is a very deep (oh, maybe about 6 to 8 inches tall) cake pan, with a removable bottom that has a tall, hollow tube – or “chimney” as I called it when I was a little girl! – extending from the center.

Now, the traditionalists will tell you that chiffon cakes cannot be baked in anything other than a chiffon cake pan. I guess it’s similar to traditionalists in the West saying that angel food cakes can only be baked in an angel food pan. [Here’s a stray thought : the angel food cake and the chiffon cakes are close cousins, in my belief. But while the angel food cake is ubiquitous in the US, it’s rarely found or used here. And if I’m not wrong, the chiffon cake is not that common in the US. Or, perhaps more accurately, what is known as “chiffon cake” in the US and Europe seems, to me, to be quite different from what we know as “chiffon cake” here in Asia. I guess the “Asian chiffon cake”, if you will, is our version of the angel food cake – albeit with egg yolks and a touch of oil in it; whereas, the chiffon cake that is more common in the West seems to be an enriched sponge cake (maybe someone can confirm or correct me on this), which is almost always used in layer cakes and such like, and is hardly ever eaten on its own; unlike the Asian chiffon which is almost always eaten as is. Okay, sorry… miscreant, long-winded thoughts are now back under control… let’s move on.]

As for which cake pans to use or not use, my personal stand is that I think chiffon (and angel food cakes for that matter) can be baked in regular pans – only that the texture of the cake may be somewhat different, for the simple reason of the difference in heat distribution (and also the cooking time). My choice of pan will really depend on what I intend to do with the chiffon cake. If I am using the chiffon as a cake base for a filled or layered cake, or for a roulade, the regular cake pans are the natural choice. But if I want to eat the chiffon cake as is, and really want to savor that cloud-like fluffy lightness that is unique to the chiffon, I think it will have to be the chiffon cake pan.

Here’s an important tip for using the chiffon cake pan: do not line, grease or flour the pan – the cake batter should be poured into a completely dry pan. Why? Well, apparently, the chiffon cake has to be cooled in a very specific way as soon as it comes out of the oven. All my mum’s recipes have this instruction highlighted and marked for special attention. And in past conversations with aunts and friends of my mum’s, they have all mentioned this “required” cake-cooling quirk.

The cake pan, fresh out of the oven, has to be immediately inverted over a bottle, and left there, sitting upside-down, until the cake has completely cooled. My mum even jotted in the margin of one of her recipes : ideally, there should be about 4-5 inches of space between the cake pan and the counter top, to allow for maximum circulation of air!

Cooling the cake in this manner prevents the cake from sinking back onto itself as it sits in the pan. “Hanging” it upside-down ensures a truly fluffy, melt-in-the-mouth, tender crumb.

And if a totally ungreased, unfloured and unlined pan is used, the cake will stay in the pan until it has cooled completely, and will not decide to make a premature exit and do a belly flop onto the table!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

For the amaretto chiffon, I simply tweaked the basic recipe (which follows at the end of the post) a little:

• Half the amount of water was replaced with an equal volume of amaretto (almond flavored liqueur).

• Instead of using cooking oil, I decided to use melted reduced fat margarine instead.

• The sugar was reduced from the stipulated 8oz (225g or 1c) in the recipe to 5oz. [For some reason, on the spur of the moment, I – uncharacteristically – decided to drastically cut the amount of sugar. While I’m not one for throat-scratchingly sweet cakes and desserts, I’m also not one to hastily cut the sugar quantities in recipes; I do believe a degree of sweetness is required for cakes and desserts to be palatable. Anyway, to cut a long story short, on impulse, I decided 1 cup of sugar was a little excessive and cut it to just 5/8 cup. This was a mistake, as you will see later.]

• Finally, about 30g of sliced blanched almonds were sprinkled over the batter just before it went into the oven.

The results pleased me in many ways, but were also a little disappointing in a couple of respects.

What I found quite stunning was the wonderfully fine-crumbed texture of the cake…

It was pillowy soft ; fluffy with an almost melt-in-the-mouth feel to it. The weave of the crumb was delicate and finely meshed, with no major holes. Really quite gorgeous. I had forgotten what a “real” chiffon cake felt like on the palate; so used was I to the somewhat coarser and drier textures of the store-bought versions.

While the texture was absolutely pleasurable, there were, however, a couple of let-downs in the taste department.

It was a major mistake to have cut the sugar at all, let alone by so much. The cake had almost no sweetness to it, and as such left a rather nasty, almost metallic-like bland after-taste in the mouth, which lingered long after the cake had been eaten and digested. Not pleasant at all. Everyone complained about the lack of sweetness and that awful aftertaste. Lesson learnt – do not willfully wield the knife, so to speak, where sugar amounts are concerned. As my mum is forever telling me: it’s a cake; it’s meant to have some degree of sweetness to it. Well, consider me sufficiently chastised.

I ended up plonking the cake into the fridge, knowing that, if eaten chilled, what little sweetness that was there would be somewhat highlighted and enhanced. So we ended up eating the cake like bread really – spread with some fruit preserves, or for me, with some Nutella.

What thrilled me though was how well the texture held up even after the cake had been chilled. I ate many pieces (often several pieces at one go) straight out of the fridge (I didn’t even bother to pop them into the toaster), and the texture, even when cold, was still dreamily soft, tender and fluffy. Amazing!

The other let-down in taste was the amaretto. It was too subtle; barely discernible after the baking. Although the flavors were slightly intensified with refrigeration, the liqueur was still too much of an indistinct background note, as opposed to being the central flavor anchor, as I had originally intended. I should have replaced all the liquids with amaretto instead.

I had also forgotten to add the vanilla (I only realized the omission just as I was putting the cake into the oven). I think the vanilla, had I remembered to include it, would have helped pull the almond flavors and the sweetness together a little better.

So, overall, the cake was a little hit-and-miss: stupendously good in some ways, and quite a dismal let-down in others.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Now, coincidentally enough, on the very day I made this amaretto chiffon cake - some two weeks ago - I found out that the theme for this month’s IMBB was food with wine or spirits in them. How uncanny, I thought. And what a perfect excuse to make another liqueur-infused chiffon cake, and to further fine-tune my chiffon recipe.

So, a few days later, in spite of protestations from the family, wary as they were of another bland chiffon outing, I was back in the kitchen, baking my second chiffon cake.

I’m not one for repetition and monotony in the kitchen; nothing bores me more than having to make the exact same recipe again, especially so soon after the last time I made it. I can never resist the urge to tweak, to play with the flavors, to experiment and to just have some fun with the food.

I just couldn’t bring myself to make another amaretto chiffon cake. A quick rummage through the liqueur cabinet revealed a forgotten and neglected half bottle of kahlua. Who knows how long it had been sitting there, abandoned after some dinner party, no longer desired or wanted. And that brought on the proverbial “light bulb blinking furiously” moment. A kahlua chiffon cake! Now, wouldn’t that be something?

Still using the same basic recipe but with the following adjustments:

• The full volume of liquids in the recipe was replaced with kahlua. I also dissolved about 2 teaspoons of instant coffee powder into the liqueur, just to intensify the coffee flavors a little more.

• I remembered to add the vanilla!

• Just out of curiosity, this time I used cooking oil, as per my mum’s original recipe, instead of melted margarine/butter – I wanted to see if this would affect the cake in any way.

• The sugar levels were restored to 1 cup or 225g.

• I decided to fold in some finely grated unsweetened 75% dark chocolate, with two purposes in mind : to help bring out, lift and round out the coffee flavors even more, and also to create a nice speckled effect in the cake.

• Oh, and one more thing. I was slightly unhappy with the few cracks that had surfaced in the amaretto cake (see top picture). They were nothing major, but I was feeling finicky. So, I thought I would try the good old “towel trick” on the chiffon cake. Would it work as well with a tube pan as it did with loaf pans?

Everything went well – up until it came time to cool the cake. As I turned the cake pan onto the bottle, I suddenly felt a lot less secure and confident than I had done with the amaretto cake. I thought to myself silently: please don’t fall out. And barely had the thought crossed my mind, the cake did the unthinkable… it made a majestic flop, out of the cake pan, onto the counter top! My jaw followed suit just as quickly.

Picking my chin off the counter and remembering to breathe again, I hastily attempted to turn the still steaming hot cake onto a wire rack, all the time muttering in exasperation to the cake: “you really didn’t have to listen to me and do exactly as I said this time, you know - I would have been quite happy for you to disobey just this once”. Fortunately for me, it seemed that I was the only one who suffered a horrific sinking feeling ; whilst my heart sank to the pit of my stomach, the cake, on the other hand, remained proudly tall and firm. Thank goodness!

The only tell-tale sign of its quick escape from the confines of the cake pan was the two deep imprints left by the spatulas I used to lift the finger-burningly hot cake off the counter top and onto the wire rack. Well, at least there were no cracks in the surface of the cake. That was what I wanted, wasn’t it? Ah! The joy in seeking the little blessings in life!

This kahlua chiffon was an improvement on the amaretto in several ways, but lost out a touch to the latter in other ways.

I really liked the crust on this one – gorgeously golden brown with just the right amount of thickness and crustiness to it; I had found the amaretto crust a little “under-developed”.

The flavors were also wonderfully well-developed; highly redolent of the kahlua, which was nicely rounded out by the chocolate. The aromas were quite hypnotizing. Even as the cake was baking, it smelt like I had freshly brewed coffee in the oven!

And this time, the sweetness was just right.

The speckled effect created by the chocolate was as pretty as I had imagined it would be – especially against the soothing café latte colored backdrop of the cake. (I of course had to choose one of the least speckled piece of cake to take a shot of!)

There were two things I was less enthusiastic about. First, the texture of the cake. Don’t get me wrong – the cake still had a wonderfully refined crumb, with a soft, fluffy bite. But I just couldn’t help noticing that the texture was just a touch rougher than the exquisitely smooth amaretto cake. The rest of the family didn’t notice it, but it seemed distinctly different to me. Perhaps you can see it too – comparing the above picture with the ones of the amaretto chiffon. And I think this variation was due entirely to the use of cooking oil rather than melted butter (or even melted low fat margarine).

I was truly surprised at the distinct difference such a small change in the recipe would bring to the texture. Who would have thought. A quick check with one of my baking cookbooks confirmed that the choice of fat (between oil and melted butter) did indeed impact the resultant texture. This made me wonder why all the chiffon cake recipes that I have ever seen called for cooking oil to be used. Perhaps it just seemed a lot more convenient to measure out 2 tablespoons of oil rather than to have to melt and cool the butter.

Whether this difference in texture applies to all sorts of cakes, or just to chiffon cakes I do not know.

Finally, the second revelation I got from this cake was that the “towel trick” was a definite no-no where chiffon cakes were concerned. Not only did it prevent the cake from obediently staying in the pan until it was cooled, but it also produced a very nasty tacky, pappy feel to the outer rim of the cake – the side of the cake that was in contact with the towel-wrapped side of the cake pan. It was quite awful, and we had to trim off all the sides to make the cake feel good both in the hand and mouth.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

So, two “spirited” chiffon cakes later, I have had mixed results – I adored the texture of the amaretto one, but loved the flavors of the kahlua sister. Hopefully, it’ll be third time lucky for me, where chiffon cakes are concerned at least… maybe, just maybe, by then, I’ll have an all-round winner on my hands.

And now, finally, we’ve come to the recipe. Thank you for your patience in staying with me and reading this far!

Without much further ado, here it is…

Basic Chiffon Cake

6 oz (170g or a scant 1½ cups) Softasilk cake flour *
1½ teaspoons baking powder
6 large egg yolks
8 oz (225g or 1 cup) caster sugar – divided
4 oz (120ml or ½ cup) water **
2 tablespoons (30g) butter – melted and cooled ***
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
6 large egg whites
½ teaspoon cream of tartar

* I used Top Flour (a superfine cake flour) instead, as that was what I had on hand, and it worked fine.

** Can be replaced with equal volume of liqueur or other forms of flavored liquids.

*** Reduced fat margarine also works well.

• Preheat oven to 175C.

• Combine the flour and baking powder. Sift three times. (I know, that is a heck of a lot of sifting; but the reward is really in the final texture of the cake – never mind what other cookbooks may say. Okay, if truly feeling lazy, you can get away with sifting twice.)

• With an electric mixer, beat together, at low speed, the egg yolks and half (it doesn’t have to be exact – an approximation will do) the sugar, until light and creamy (approximately 5 minutes or so).

• On low speed, mix in half the sifted flour.

• Add the liquids – the water/liqueur and the melted butter – and beat to combine.

• Add the rest of the flour, and mix in on low speed. The batter will be rather thick; almost like a stretchy, sticky dough. Set aside.

• Whisk the egg whites and the cream of tartar on medium-high speed until foamy. Slowly dribble in the reserved half cup of sugar and continue to whisk until the whites form glossy, firm but non-dry peaks.

• Fold the egg whites into the yolk batter. (It’s okay if you have to beat the first couple of batches of the meringue into the batter fairly vigorously – no harm will be done. Just be sure to gently fold in the rest, once the batter has lightened sufficiently.)

• Pour batter into an ungreased, unfloured and unlined chiffon cake pan. Smartly but gently tap the cake pan on the surface of the table, to release any trapped air bubbles.

• Bake in 175C oven for 40-45 minutes. Do not open the oven door during the cooking time (at least until the last few minutes or so). Immediately invert the cake pan over a bottle, and leave to cool completely before unmoulding.

Variations
Amaretto Chiffon – Replace water with equal volume of amaretto (almond-flavored liqueur). Sprinkle about 30g of sliced almonds on the surface of the batter before putting the cake into the oven.

Kahlua Chiffon – Replace water with equal volume of Kahlua (or Tia Maria – or any other coffee-flavored liqueur), and dissolve 2 teaspoons of dry instant coffee powder into the liqueur. Finely grate about 1½ oz (about 45g) of dark bitter or bittersweet chocolate, and fold into batter just before pouring into the cake pan.

Hazelnut Chiffon – Replace water with 3 oz (90ml) of a hazelnut-flavored liqueur, mixed with 2 tablespoons of Nutella. Some chopped hazelnuts can also be sprinkled over the batter before it goes into the oven.

Lemon / Lime / Orange Chiffon – Replace water with equal volume of the desired citrus juice. Alternatively, used a lemon or orange flavored liqueur. Fold in 2-3 tablespoons of the grated zest of the fruit.

Postscript
I’m still looking for a knock-me-down, drop-dead gorgeous chiffon cake recipe, so if you have a tried-and-tested one that you do not mind sharing, I would love to hear from you.
Thank you!

Copyright © 2004 Renee Kho. All Rights Reserved.
Please contact me for permission to copy, publish, distribute or display any of the images or text contained in this article.

Feeding a Crowd – Almost

After the previous day’s minor pound-cake-shortage fiasco, I was back in the kitchen measuring, mixing and stirring up a storm of pound cakes.

I wanted to do a different flavor from the day before; vanilla, whilst supremely tasty, was, well, a little “safe”. Ideas were bursting from my brain: lemon, lime, chocolate chunks, grated dark chocolate (for a speckled effect), walnuts, coconut, mango, pineapple even… But, a quick straw poll – or at least, the kids decided to take a spur-of-the-moment referendum amongst themselves – showed that orange was the flavor of choice (garnering 98% of the votes, or so I was told - hmmm… did I detect some vote-rigging going on there?). And so orange pound cake it was.

I used the exact same recipe as the day before, with just a few minor adjustments:

• The vanilla extract was left out this time around, and replaced with the finely grated zest of two medium oranges (about 3 teaspoons). [I added the grated zest to the sifted flour mixture and mixed it in well, so that it would be evenly dispersed through the cake batter.]

• About two tablespoons of buttermilk were removed from the half cup measure, and replaced with about 3 tablespoons of freshly squeezed orange juice. [I contemplated using more orange juice, but didn’t want to upset the dry and wet ingredients ratio too much; I also didn’t want to remove too much of the buttermilk, which was important for leavening and also absolutely key to the wonderful texture of the cake, given the already very low butter and eggs content.]

• The amount of sugar wasn’t reduced by very much. [I used a scant cupful, figuring that the acidity of the citrus would balance the sweetness out nicely this time around.]

• Instead of using the silicone bundt pan again, I opted for two 8”x4” loaf pans. [And discovered in the process that it took 1½ portions of batter to fill two loaf pans nicely. My initial single portion of batter produced two somewhat shallow cakes.]

• The cakes were baked at 170C (or what I presumed to be 170C on my Aunt’s oven) instead of 160C. The cakes were done in 40 minutes. [Actually, the color on the first batch of cakes was a little light; so we upped the temperature a teeny bit, and the subsequent batches turned out pretty good. That was probably at about 175-180C; but I’m guessing – I have no idea what number “7½” on my Aunt’s oven is in terms of temperature. It was literally a baking by trial-and-error experience! Certainly gives new meaning to the term “baking blind”!]

As expected, the cakes turned out very delicious. (Sorry, the pictures were of the very first batch, which was not as nice-looking as the subsequent batches. There was simply no chance to get a camera near the subsequent loaves that came out of the oven, as family members flooded through the kitchen door to claim their share of cake.)

The aromatic orange flavor was a hit, and I thought the visual effect of the little specks of orange zest speckled through the cake was lovely – all bright, cheery, citrusy and summery.

I adore this recipe for the texture of the cake – with its meltingly tender crumb, and soft, fluffy bite with just the right amount of denseness. Gorgeous!

We (yes, we… but more on that later) ended up making, oh, probably about 6 or 7 batches of the cake (with each batch being a 1½ portion of the recipe). But why split the batter-mixing into a laboriously long drawn out 6-7 stage affair, you ask? Well, the oven was rather small, and could only take two loaf pans at the most, at any one time, and I didn’t want the ready-mixed batter sitting out in the hot, humid kitchen for several hours, waiting its turn in the oven. Plus, the stand mixer wasn’t very big. So, as each session of cake went into the oven, we started up the next batch of batter. Phew! That was a lot of measuring and mixing for one day! And even then, strict food “rationing” was still in force – strictly one piece of cake per person, regardless of age! And I even had a whole battery of “food police” to help monitor the situation and make sure no one “cheated”!

Personally, by the second batch, I was dying to make the cake in a lemon or lime flavor (my Aunt’s lime bush, visible through the kitchen window, seemed to be calling my name); I just felt that the nice acidy tang of lemon or lime would make for a nicer, fuller and more rounded sweet-tart balance in the cake compared to the orange, which, though fragrantly citrusy, was a little sweet (my Aunt only buys very sweet eating oranges!). But sanity and pragmatism prevailed: making different batches of cake in different flavors was just asking for trouble. It was definitely not a good idea to spark another mad food scramble, like that of the previous day. Since we started with orange, so orange it would be for everyone. All’s fair in life and… food!

However, I did give some of the subsequent loaves a glaze, at the request of the children. For those who liked their pound cakes au naturel, there were the unglazed loaves. For the kids, they got a simple orange icing (sifted powdered sugar mixed with just enough freshly squeezed orange juice to get a nice glazing consistency). For the grown-ups with a sweet tooth, I added a glug of amaretto (I would have liked cointreau, but I just worked with whatever was made available to me) to the glaze; although some of the teenagers (and even some of the pre-teens) felt they were more than old enough to have “fortified” icing on their cake! It sounded a little strange, but it worked. Almonds and orange: who would have thought? For myself, I made up a nicely sweet-sour lime icing… and satisfied my craving to go out into the garden and pluck some fresh limes from that lime bush that had been smiling at and beckoning to me all afternoon!

And it was certainly an eventful afternoon. As it turned out, I became the de-facto “babysitter” of 13 kids (from toddlers to “tweens” – I believe that is the new, modern term for pre-teens ). The rest of the adults were clearly glad to have the bunch cleared from underfoot and kept gamely occupied for a few hours, so that they could get on with the zillion things that still needed to be done. The kids obviously had a whale of a time, “playing”… oops, sorry, I meant baking… with flour, eggs and cake batter. For almost all of them, it was their first time cooking and baking, and I think it was such a thrill and eye-opening, educational experience.

Well, I, too, learnt a thing or two that afternoon. For one, it’s just not in me to cook or bake for a large crowd on short notice – especially when all I have on hand are small family-sized kitchen equipment; and when I also have a “Board of Directors” made up of 13 highly vocal “bosses” to answer to, with questions and suggestions flying at me by the dozens; and who had energy enough for a group twice their numbers. By the end of the afternoon I had to go lie down in a darkened room, with a cool compress over my eyes and forehead, and with pure, unadulterated, blissful silence ringing in my ears. I was just thankful and relieved that the afternoon passed without incident – every child managed to keep their 10 fingers intact (none were lost to the whirling stand-mixer) and noses unburnt (despite persistently placing them way too near a burning hot glass oven door to peer at the cakes to make sure they were rising and cooking satisfactorily!). And we even managed to produce more than a dozen loaves of delicious orange pound cake along the way. How’s that for an afternoon’s work? Not bad, huh? But once is enough for me, thank you very much. Now, hand me my ear plugs, please…

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Oh, and before I forget… Shirley this is for you. No, I haven’t forgotten your request, and yes, I thought of you as we baked the cakes. So, here is how I “wrap” the loaf tins with a damp towel to help the cakes rise evenly…

Wet thoroughly a small towel – any small tea or hand towel that you have on hand would be fine – and wring out the excess water. The towel should be nicely damp – not too wet nor too wrung out either.

Fold the towel lengthwise into three (or four, depending on the width of the towel and the height of the cake pan). It doesn’t have to be precise or neat… you may even choose, if the mood so strikes, to just scrunch up the towel to the height of the cake pan.

Place the cake pan on a baking sheet with a ledge. Wrap the towel around the cake pan, with the two ends of the towel starting and ending at the side, between the cake pan and the ledge of the baking sheet. The latter will help to hold the towel in place…

If necessary, use a pin to tack the two ends of the towel together. (But I have found it sufficient to just use the ledge of the baking sheet to hold the towel securely.)

A second loaf pan can also go on the same baking sheet, with another towel wrapped around it. Then, into the oven they go.

Here’s to evenly risen, level cakes!

Copyright © 2004 Renee Kho. All Rights Reserved.
Please contact me for permission to copy, publish, distribute or display any of the images or text contained in this article.

Feeding a Crowd – Not

Have you ever noticed? Often times, when in situations of emotional strain, one of the first things to go is our eating sensibilities. Even those who are normally very conscious of what they put into their bodies are found carelessly quaffing can after can of sugar-loaded, fizzy drinks and munching on greasy, salt-laden food throughout the day.

Several weeks ago, during the initial phase of the chaotic emotional upheaval the family was dealing with, I found myself, on several days, completely “forgetting” to eat – for the entire day. By nightfall, I was feeling faint, dizzy and weak from the lack of nourishment and from dehydration. I even “forgot” to drink water. Then there were the couple of days when I swung to the other extreme; and ate nothing but candy bars and sugary cakes and buns all day. By the end of the day, I had so much sugar coursing through my veins that I was, well, not quite myself either.

I guess it was inevitable that proper meals would be nigh impossible – what with a zillion details to work out and get organized within a matter of days, and having at the same time to deal with the constant flow of visitors*, all very kindly and sincerely wanting to offer help and support. (It’s funny how no matter how many times one may have gone through similar preparations, one is still never ready or prepared to go through it again. It always feels like the first time; there is the same feeling of confusion and chaos that reigns – for everyone.) We fell back on catered food and/or take-out, to feed both ourselves and our stream of guests. So, day in and day out it was oily, fat-soaked food that had sat in the warmers all day, and all topped off with fizzy drinks, sugary cakes and pastries.

[* Perhaps a quick side note for those not familiar with Chinese-style wakes: these can be lengthy affairs, stretching anywhere between 3 to 7 days; with 3 or 5 days being the norm as most families find it too exhausting to do it for 7 days. It does take a lot of stamina, simply because it is customary – especially if the wake is held at home – to never leave the body “alone”. As such, there are always people up and about throughout the day and night – 24 hours a day. Guests and visitors, friends and relatives, parish priest and church friends visit throughout the day and night. And so, everyone sits around eating (a lot – to try to keep awake) and chatting. Sleep comes in the form of power naps of 1-2 hours, caught when and where possible in a crowded house. If you are lucky, you might manage to snatch some empty bed space and get some restful sleep – but only for a few hours, before having to awake and make way for the next person to catch some sleep – otherwise, most of the time, flitful rest during those few days are had slumped in the nearest empty armchair. By all counts, sleep and rest are hard to come by throughout the entire duration of the wake.]

Thankfully, after the initial frenzy and with the most important formalities over, things settled a little, and some of the women folk got organized in the kitchen; spirit-reviving fresh vegetables and soul-soothing soups started to appear on the table. I decided to make my own little contribution (plus to maybe find some brief refuge in the kitchen, far from the maddening crowd) by baking some healthier cakes for the family. After days of over-frosted, over-sugared, butter-clogged store-bought cakes, the kids were almost climbing the walls on a sugar high! It was time for something simpler, homelier and lighter.

One of my cousins had Alice Medrich’s recipe for a low-fat buttermilk pound cake which I had emailed to her some months back. She had tried it once, and liked it. I had never made the recipe, and decided to try it.

It was strange working in someone else’s kitchen. The equipment, the layout, and basically “how the whole system worked” were different. And so I had my little culinary adventure (or misadventure) with this recipe.

The cake was supposed to be baked at 160C. I was told that “number 6” on the (electric) oven dial was 160C. Simple enough. But as it turned out, it wasn’t quite. The recipe called for the cake to be baked for about 35 minutes (if using a bundt pan). At the end of 35 minutes, my cake was still very pale, although a light crust had formed on the top. I started to feel suspicious. Inserting a skewer into the cake brought the discovery that the insides were still liquid batter! Completely uncooked! Apparently, the oven needed to be turned up to at least “number 7” to be “activated”, and then turned back down to “6” after it had heated up. Ah! Critical missing bit of information. So, the heat was turned up to “7” and the cake baked, at that temperature, for another 15-20 minutes or so. And as a testament to the hardiness of Alice’s recipes, the cake seemed none the worse for the “ordeal”.

The crumb was slightly dense, as it should be for any good pound cake, and yet incredibly soft and fluffy. As with all the other Medrich recipes I’ve ever tried, the texture was wonderfully refined and smooth…

The only tell-tale sign of the cake’s “oven experience” was the slightly too thick top crust…

But you know what, the Kho family is a family of cake crust lovers. Truly. It turned out that those thick, crispy, golden brown crusts were the bits people started fighting over!

The only other thing I wasn’t overly enthusiastic about was the uneven coloring of the cake…

But that was wholly (I suspect) due to the silicone bundt mould that I was given to use. I think a traditional metal bundt pan would have worked much better, and would have given the cake an all-round golden brown tan.

Personally, I found the cake just a tad on the sweet side. But everyone else, without exception, thought the cake was just right. Maybe at that stage, I had already breached my sugar quota for the week, and my body was just a little more sensitive to sweetness. I also felt that the vanilla notes were just a touch obvious; perhaps a reduced amount of just one, or even three quarter, teaspoon would be better.

Overall, I really liked the recipe. This was one of the nicest smelling cake batters I have made; even when I was mixing it up, the smells were tantalizingly good, in a warm, fuzzy sort of way. As it baked, the aromas that wafted from the oven were nicely buttery, vanilla-y and all warm and comforting. It smelt just like a regular pound cake; but without the pound (literally) of butter that went into the traditional pound cake (and thus its name). Compared to the usual 2 cups or so of butter in the “normal” version, this one had only 5 tablespoons! And yet it had all the flavor and fragrance of buttery goodness.

This recipe was not only a doddle to make, but was also one that was highly amenable to variation… but more on that tomorrow.

Buttermilk Pound Cake
[from Alice Medrich’s Chocolate and the Art of Low Fat Desserts]

1½ cups (6 oz) all-purpose flour
¼ teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon baking soda
3/8 teaspoon salt
1 egg
2 egg whites
1¼ teaspoons vanilla extract
½ cup low fat buttermilk
5 tablespoons (75g) unsalted butter
1 cup sugar

• Have all ingredients at room temperature.

• Preheat oven to 160C or 325F.

• Whisk to combine flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Sift together (I do it twice). Set aside.

• In a small bowl, whisk together the egg and egg whites. Set aside.

• Combine the vanilla and buttermilk. Set aside.

• Cut the butter into chunks and place into the mixer bowl. Beat to soften – about one minute.

• Add the sugar gradually; beating constantly until light and fluffy (about 3 minutes).

• Gradually dribble in the beaten eggs, and beat at medium-high speed for about 2-3 minutes, until light and creamy. Scrape down bowl as necessary.

• Reduce mixer speed to low, and add a third of the flour mixture. Beat to combine; scraping bowl with rubber spatula as necessary.

• Dribble in half of the buttermilk. Mix well on medium-high speed.

• Add half of the remaining flour mixture. Mix on low speed.

• On medium-high speed, pour in the rest of the buttermilk.

• Finally, on low speed, add the remaining flour, and mix until well combined.

• Pour batter into either a 5-6 cup bundt or tube pan or a 5 cup loaf pan.

• Bake in the lower third of the oven for about 35-40 minutes (for the bundt pan) and 65-70 minutes for the loaf pan; or until the cake starts to pull away from the sides of the pan, the top is golden brown and a skewer inserted into the center comes out clean.

• Let cool for 10-15 minutes before unmoulding.

This cake is great as is, eaten with a steaming mug of coffee, tea or hot chocolate. However, we all know how really, truly good all pound cakes are when topped with whipped cream and some fresh berries (any berries really: blueberries, strawberries, raspberries…), or it doesn’t even have to be berries; try chunks of fresh, juicy, aromatic mangoes, luscious peaches, or even succulent persimmons. Alternatively, keep it easy… just scoop a dollop of chunky preserves over the whipped cream. How about a slice of delightfully fluffy pound cake paired with a generous scoop of smooth vanilla frozen yogurt (or ice cream if you prefer), with some warm, fudgy, rich chocolate sauce drizzled on top and a handful of toasted almond slices sprinkled over? Wouldn’t that be something? Or, if you are like me, a piece of pound cake spread quite simply with a cascade of Nutella… now, that is comfort food!

The cake was gone within minutes (I barely had time to snap some pictures – yes, it even occurred to me to take photos: a definite sign that I was starting to “return to normal”). Sure, part of the quick disappearing act was because the cake was rather delicious. But another part of it was because I had “forgotten” I was feeding a crowd.

Normally, at home, I only have to cook for between 2-5 persons on any given day. Occasionally I may throw a dinner party and cook for 10-12; but I usually get a few days (sometimes even a couple of weeks) to prepare for that sort of kitchen excursion. My brain just didn’t make the rapid enough switch around to cooking (or baking) for an entire clan…

You see, my paternal grandmother had 10 children; each of those offsprings went on to have at least 2, and up to 7, kids each. Most of those kids have now gone on to have at least 2-3 children of their own. Throw spouses and partners into the mix, and that makes for a lot of people to have under one roof! Even though we did not have the FULL clan in attendance, we were still talking a full house! Everything from sofa space to just a quiet corner to collect your thoughts were at a premium.

Even my attempt to “escape” to the kitchen for a little more “peace and quiet” was in vain. It was not a very big kitchen, and at any one time there were 10-15 people crammed into the space, with just as many different culinary activities going on all at the same time! It was only the camaderie that one finds in the fold of family that stopped everything from tipping over into unbridled madness.

Anyway, silly me forgot about the numbers game. I made but one batch of the cake. Even though we managed to get about 22-23 decent slices out of the cake, it still meant that a large proportion of the family went without. Let’s just say there’s nothing quite like a freshly baked, still-warm, tantalizingly aromatic cake - and insufficient quantities of it – to trigger a mad scramble and to almost start a food fight!

So, I promised to make more pound cake the next day. And I did – tweaking the recipe for a different taste along the way. But that story is for tomorrow…

Copyright © 2004 Renee Kho. All Rights Reserved.
Please contact me for permission to copy, publish, distribute or display any of the images or text contained in this article.

A Divine (Un-Fallen) Beauty

Life’s funny like that, isn’t it? So often, we expect or hope that something will or will not happen, but the very exact opposite of what we want happens instead. And so it is with baking cakes. Usually, it is our fervent hope that the cake will come out beautifully even and smooth… no cracks or fissures… and no sinking or collapsing after it gets out of the oven. But sometimes, hope against hope, it does just that… it rises up and reveals a broad, wide jagged grin as it emerges from the oven. And at other times, as it cools from the heat of the oven, it sinks into a sullen, unhappy well of a depression.

Then, there are the times when we pray and wish that the cake would sink and fall. At yet, despite us willing it with all our might, it stays stubbornly smooth and taut… a shiny, glossy plane of rebellion against our wishes.

And so it was with the cake I baked for my mum in celebration of Mother’s Day.

From a list of options, she had chosen this one… “Fallen Chocolate Souffle Torte” from Alice Medrich’s Chocolate and the Art of the Low-Fat Desserts. It looks absolutely wonderful in the book. A fallen beauty, with the center of the cake “collapsed” into a light, flaky well of chocolate richness. I have to admit, I am something of a sucker for sunken cakes (those that are meant to be sunken, at least). There is just something about them that looks rather appealing to me. I think my mum feels the same. And thus her choice of cake for Mother’s Day.

This cake is described in the book as “a light but real chocolate torte – something rich, moist and chocolate… deep chocolate flavor, moist and dense, yet somehow light”. And that is precisely what the cake is. I can’t describe it better myself.

The torte is an almost flourless cake. There are just almonds and chocolate, topped with a dash of brandy. But unlike other flourless cakes which usually have tons of butter in them, this has no butter at all. Yep! No butter. And only two egg yolks. And the final result is an incredibly rich, dense, moist, very very chocolatey cake that is, at the same time, very light on the palate. A cake that doesn’t sit in the pit of your stomach like a lump of stone after the indulgence.

I really like this recipe. It’s a definite keeper.

I also like how easy and simple the procedure is. No double-boilers. No hassle. It takes all of 25 minutes or so to prep the batter before it is ready to go into the oven. And 30 minutes after that, a wonderful warm chocolate cake awaits.

Everything went really well in the making of the cake. The only hiccup was the oven. Of late, it has been blowing hot and cold on me. At times, it has been hotter than what it should have been. Other times, it has been cooler than what I had wanted it to be. But then again, it is eighteen years old after all, and probably close to retirement age I think.

Anyway, on this particular occasion, it seemed the oven was a tad too hot, and I think the surface of the cake was just a touch over-done, and thus rather crusty. Which meant that, contrary to what I had hoped and prayed for, the torte did not sink. I waited and I waited. I hoped and I hoped. But the surface of the cake remained stubbornly flat and smooth. No amount of will-power on my end was going to get the torte to fall and sink.

But no matter. For on every other score, the cake delivered.

It was rich, dense, moist and oh so chocolatey (have I said all this already?). And yet, there was also a certain fluffiness and softness to it. Divinely delicious. My mum loved it. She declared that this was how a “real” chocolate cake should be. It most certainly didn’t taste “low fat” that was for sure. We served it warm with a dollop of hazelnut gelato, and it was out of this world.

Chocolate Souffle Torte

¼ cup (1 oz.) blanched almonds
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
3 oz bittersweet or semi-sweet chocolate * - chopped fine
½ cup unsweetened Dutch Process cocoa
1 cup sugar
½ cup boiling water
2 egg yolks
1 tablespoon brandy **
4 egg whites – at room temperature
scant ¼ teaspoon cream of tartar

* I used a 70% Extra Fine Dark Chocolate. But I think I would prefer to use perhaps a 40% Dark the next time around. I felt the chocolate balance fell just a tiny bit on the bitter side, although the family loved it just as it was, and felt I shouldn’t change it at all.
I’m even thinking that, on occasions, it may even be interesting to experiment with maybe a 1oz Milk/2oz 40% Dark Chocolate ratio.

** I think Amaretto would make a lovely alternative.

• Preheat oven to 190C or 375F.

• Line the bottom of a round 8” springform pan with parchment paper. Coat sides of pan with cooking spray.

• Grind almonds with the flour in a food processor until very fine.

• Combine finely chopped chocolate, cocoa powder and ¾ cup sugar in a large bowl. Pour in the boiling water, and whisk until smooth and the chocolate is completely melted.

• Whisk in the egg yolks and brandy. Set aside.

• Combine the egg whites and the tartar, and beat, with an electric mixer, on medium speed, until soft peaks form. Gradually sprinkle in the remaining ¼ cup sugar, and beat on high speed until the meringue is stiff but not dry.

• Whisk the flour and almonds mixture into the chocolate mixture.

• Fold ¼ of the whisked egg whites into the chocolate mixture to lighten it. Then, fold in the remainder of the egg whites.

• Pour batter into prepared pan and level the surface if necessary.

• In the lower third of the oven, bake for 30-35 minutes or until a wooden skewer inserted into the center of the cake comes out with just a few moist crumbs clinging to it.

• Cool pan on a wire rack. The torte will (should) sink like a soufflé. Once relatively cooled, carefully unmold cake.

Serving suggestions:
• With a light dusting of powdered sugar.
• With some light whipped cream.
• With vanilla or hazelnut gelato or ice cream.
• With frozen yogurt.
• Or, simply, just as it is.

Or… if you are looking for an ultimate “death by chocolate” sort of experience, if you haven’t had a chocolate and sugar fix for say, oh, maybe a year, and if your Doctor will not suffer a heart attack when you tell him… try this… have a slice of the cake with a (very generous) slather of Nutella as frosting. We tried it… and just one word to describe it: shiokadelicious!

And on that very sweet note, here’s wishing all Mums, Mums-in-Law, Grand-Mums, Great-Grand-Mums, and God-Mums too… a very Happy Mother’s Day!

Copyright © 2004 Renee Kho. All Rights Reserved.
Please contact me for permission to copy, publish, distribute or display any of the images or text contained in this article.

Having My Cake and Eating It Too

I’m sure you must have heard this before. Friends gather for a meal, and come dessert time, someone would say “oh, I’m not having dessert, I’m watching my diet”. And almost invariably, another would respond “order a carrot cake, that’s healthy”.

But oh, what misconceptions! Isn’t it funny how just because something has carrots in it, it is immediately perceived as being “healthy”? Most people baulk when they find out just how “unhealthy” a regular carrot cake really is. Almost all carrot cake recipes involve copious, and I mean copious, amounts of oil. At least 1½ cups of it. With some recipes using as much as 3½ cups! That’s more oil than in deep fried chicken! Then there is the cream cheese frosting to add to the fat count. Personally, I think one is better off ordering a chocolate cake, enjoying every mouthful of the indulgence, and probably be still taking in less fat than with a carrot cake!

Now, you’re probably starting to wonder where I am going with all this. No, this is not a “let’s bash carrot cake” post. Far from it. This is more about a re-discovery of carrot cake… in many ways.

You see…

…for some unfathomable reason, I’ve been thinking a lot about carrot cakes lately. (Yes, I should go get a life.) But seriously, questions about carrot cakes have been swimming in and out of my mind.

I mean…
• Why are carrot cakes not living up to their name? Why are they not “healthier”?

• Why do almost all carrot cake recipes use oil, and not butter? It means that the method for making the cake approximates rather closely to the method for making muffins (combine dry ingredients, combine wet ingredients, combine wet ingredients with dry ingredients), instead of the more standard “creaming method” for cakes. As a result, it produces a denser, more muffin-like texture in the cake, rather than a soft, fluffy, tender cake-like crumb.

• Why do a large majority of low-fat carrot cake recipes involve the use of a lot of canned pineapples? No doubt, this does significantly reduce the fat content and help keep the cake moist at the same time. But I personally have found that the nature of pineapple is such that its taste simply dominates the cake, which starts tasting like a pineapple cake rather than a carrot cake. Maybe I just have an over-sensitive tongue. But I don’t really want to be tasting pineapple in a carrot cake.

• And finally, why are there almost never any chocolate carrot cakes? I mean, why ever not? Now, this question has been bugging me since the last IMBB Cake Walk edition, when Clotilde made a chocolate and zucchini cake, and I remember thinking “how nice! something like a chocolate carrot cake”. Then, I realize that there isn’t really any “chocolate carrot cake”. At least not that I have seen. And that bothers me.

After having had all these issues mulling in my head for a few days, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to do something about it. I decided to go create a carrot cake that would address all these questions. And hey, even if the cake turned out a complete disaster, I would have at least settled my mind, and maybe then, these darn carrot cake thoughts would finally go away, and leave me alone! I mean, geez! What were they thinking? That I had nothing better to do than to think about them all day? These carrot cakes. Really!

And so that was what I did. I used a recipe I found off cookinglight.com as a basis to build my recipe with. I chucked out things, added things, substituted things and just mucked around with the recipe. By the time I was done, all that my recipe had in common with the original recipe was that both had sugar, eggs and flour in them! And oh, carrots too, of course.

Each of the niggling issues I have with carrot cakes is addressed:

• Part of the flour is substituted with toasted wheatgerm (how’s that for healthy? ).

• Butter, rather than oil is used. Plus, only a small amount is used – about 80g or just over 5 tablespoons.

• Instead of canned pineapples, very low fat plain yogurt is used. This should give the cake a very nice texture – moist and tender. The yogurt also helps with the leavening action.

• To make it a chocolate cake, Dutch process cocoa powder is added. Plus a tiny bit of instant coffee (or espresso) powder. This is not detectable in the final cake, and yet it is amazing how just a pinch of coffee really complements and enhances the taste notes of the cocoa. It enriches the cocoa flavors, rounding them out, making them more complex and rich. And yes, makes the cocoa taste more chocolatey.

• And finally, the “normal” creaming method, instead of the “muffin method”, is used to make the cake batter.

It all looks fine on paper. In theory, the recipe should work. Now, for the real test. Making the cake and seeing if I will get something edible at the end of it.

Renee’s Low-Fat “Healthy” Chocolate Carrot Cake

1¾ cup minus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
½ cup toasted wheatgerm
2 teaspoons baking powder
¼ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon instant coffee or espresso powder
¼ cup Dutch process cocoa powder
80g unsalted butter, softened
½ cup granulated sugar
½ cup packed dark brown sugar
1 egg
2 egg whites
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
½ cup unsweetened applesauce *
¼ cup low fat or non-fat plain yogurt
2 cups finely shredded carrots
¼ cup chopped walnuts (optional)

* I usually buy jars of baby food applesauce. They usually have no additives and no sugar added. And I like their convenient, one-use packaging. It means I don’t end up with a large jar of ¾-unused applesauce sitting in the fridge.
On tangent to this, why is it that when a jar of baby food says 128ml on the label, which should, logically speaking, give me quite a few drops in excess of ½ cup of applesauce, does the jar actually contain quite a few drops less than ½ cup of applesauce? Hmmm… no matter. It did not affect the cake. But Heinz might want to look into recalibrating their scales.

• Preheat oven to 175C or 350F.

• Coat an 8x10 inch rectangular cake pan with cooking spray, and dust with flour.

• Measure out the flour by lightly spooning (instead of scooping) it into the measuring cups, and leveling with a knife.

• Combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, coffee powder and cocoa. Sift twice. Add wheatgerm, and stir to blend. Set aside.

• Combine the yogurt and applesauce. Set aside.

• Beat the butter in an electric mixer on medium speed until soft. Gradually add in both the dark brown and granulated sugars. Continue beating until soft and fluffy.

• Gradually add in the eggs and the vanilla extract. Beat to combine.

• Spoon a third of the flour mixture into the batter, and mix on low speed.

• Pour in half the applesauce/yogurt mixture, and combine on medium speed.

• Add half of the remaining flour mixture, and again mix on low speed.

• Put in the remaining yogurt mixture and beat on medium speed until combined.

• Finally, on low speed, mix in the rest of the flour.

• Fold in the carrots (and walnuts, if using).

• Pour batter into the prepared pan. Bake for 30-45 minutes, or until a wooden pick inserted in the center comes out clean.

• Let cool in pan for 10 minutes on wire racks before removing from pan.

• Best eaten within 2 days, or store in refrigerator for 4-5 days.

And now for the sixty four thousand dollar question… okay, more like the sixty four dollar question… how did it taste?

Well…

Drumroll…

It tasted pretty good, I thought. And most of the family agreed. It was richly chocolatey, with an almost fudgy feel. It was very moist with a fluffy crumb. As someone put it, it didn’t taste at all “healthy” or “low fat”.

It achieved what I set out to do – create a healthy cake that (hopefully) also tasted good. This cake was healthy. I mean, it had wheatgerm and carrots – with all that B complex vitamins and beta carotene. It was also very low fat. Granted, it was still a little high on the sugar. But hey, we weren’t doing too badly. The taste was good. The texture was not bad too.

The wheatgerm gave a rather nice “nutty” feel to the crumb, yet without tasting “rough” and without making the cake heavy or dense.

My only complaint was that the cake was a tad crumbly. Not sure why that was. Oh, by the way, the pictures show the cake made with cake flour. That was what I used in the actual making of the cake, and I suspect that probably partially contributed to the crumbly texture. So the recipe, as listed out above, has reverted to all-purpose plain flour. But still, could something else have also contributed to the slight crumbliness?

So, the recipe worked - basically. It was still a little rough around the edges perhaps, and still needed a little refining to make the cake texture more elegant. Taste-wise…

My mum’s complaint was that “it didn’t taste like carrot cake”. She likes carrot cake. And likes carrot cake to taste like, well, carrot cake – that is, to be able to see and taste the carrots. This version was too chocolatey for her. But that was why the rest of the family, who weren’t usually too keen on carrot cake, liked it – precisely because it didn’t taste like carrot cake!

And so there you have it. The split down the flavor preference line. If you like carrot cake as carrot cake, this is probably not the cake for you. If you don’t like carrot cake, but want a “healthy” yet tasty cake, you’ll probably like this cake. And if you’re like me, who likes both carrot cakes and chocolate cakes, but have always found the former to be way too rich and oily, then this cake is tantamount to having my cake and eating it. And a gal can’t really ask for more than that, now can she?

Copyright © 2004 Renee Kho. All Rights Reserved.
Please contact me for permission to copy, publish, distribute or display any of the images or text contained in this article.

Well Worth The Skin On The Back Of My Hand

After several days of wanting to bake a cake, but not managing to, due to the odd middle-of-the-night hours that I have been doing my baking at over the last few days, I finally decided enough was enough. I was going to make a cake, and I was going to make it NOW. So, yesterday afternoon, I decided that no amount of distractions was going to keep me from baking my cake. (And no, this is not my contribution for IMBB this Sunday… I have yet to start on that). This was merely my attempt to satisfy a deep-seated craving for a home-baked cake. You know how it is… when you have a craving for a certain food… it JUST won’t go away… it’s like a bad itch that just has to be scratched. Ah! And then… bliss…

I decided to try out a recipe from a fabulous cookbook that I very recently re-discovered. I had never made anything from the book before, even though I have owned it for perhaps 5-6 years. It’s called “Chocolate and the Art of Low Fat Desserts” by the highly regarded Californian pastry maestro, Alice Medrich. I will post a full review of the book tomorrow.

Anyway, I opted to try out her “chocolate marble cake”. I love marble cakes. We buy them on a regular basis. But nothing quite beats the taste of a home-made marble cake. I myself have never made one from scratch before. I’ve always taken the easy route… buy it from the store… or eat the one mum makes! But some time ago, when Alberto posted about his marble cake, it had me thinking about and wanting a delicious piece of home-made marble cake. And yes, it has taken me this long to scratch that itch! When I saw Alice’s low fat version, it seemed a perfect sign… it was time to make my marble cake!

Making the cake, which was a very simple and straightforward recipe, turned out to be a very painful experience for me.

In the midst of making the cake, I very cleverly gave myself a rather nasty burn on the back of my hand. How was I so careless? A combination of factors I guess. Not fully concentrating, for one. Trying to do too many things all at the same time, for another. And being harassed at the wrong moment, and getting distracted.

I was half way through mixing the cake batter when the oven timer went off. Something else that I was preparing was ready to come out of the oven. So with grubby hands I tried to remove the item from the oven. Just at that moment, the phone decided to ring. I tried to hurry, so I could get to the phone. Then, the doorbell rang. And this person pressed the doorbell not once, not twice, but four times in quick succession, and then just decided to keep his finger on the buzzer! I yanked the pan out of the oven, and in the process the back of my right hand touched the top element of the oven. I yelped. Actually, more like I screamed. A big patch of skin had come off, and was now probably stuck to the red-hot top element of my oven. The back of my hand immediately turned a bright lobster red, searing pain shot through my entire hand, and it felt like it was on fire. I dropped the hot pan I was holding. I screamed again. All the contents of the pan were now on the floor. I ran to the sink, and placed my hand under running water. It didn’t work. I was nearly in tears. I had to stop the pain. Ran to the fridge. Ack! Of all times to be out of milk. No milk. Yogurt! That should work, shouldn’t it? Dug my fingers into the pot of yogurt. Slathered it onto the wound. Temporary relief. Then the pain returned. I could feel my flesh “cooking”. The heat was no longer on the surface of the hand (or at least I could no longer feel it there, or perhaps more accurately, I could no longer feel the surface of my hand). Instead, I felt intense heat inside, “cooking” my flesh. Oh boy, this must be what it feels like for a piece of meat to be cooked. Tears were really threatening by this time.

A, our domestic helper had sprinted into the kitchen from the backyard when she heard my first scream. She suggested ice. No way! That was a very bad idea. My mind was blank from the pain. I couldn’t for the world of me think of something sensible to put on the wound. Tried to stay calm. Tried to think. Then, simultaneously we both said “aloe”. And so A ran back out into the garden and snipped off a fresh sheaf of aloe vera from the nearest plant. With a slab of freshly cut aloe on the wound, sanity started to return, very slowly. After about 20 minutes, the pain was getting near bearable. The wound looked real nasty. A chunk of skin was gone. Red. Swollen. Oozing. Not pretty. The zigzag outline of the oven element was clearly stamped on the back of my hand. I felt like one of those farm animals branded with a hot iron stamp! I just hope it doesn’t leave an unsightly scar.

Aloe vera – especially fresh aloe vera – is a true miracle worker. Very quickly it stopped the intensely hot “cooking” feeling in the flesh. And it sealed the wound too, substantially reducing the oozing and all that horrible stuff.

Slowly, as the fog of pain started to dissipate, I could begin to see the lighter side of things. What was it that Anthony Bourdain always used to say on his show? Something about how all good cooks must have “battle scars” of burns and cuts to show that they have paid their dues in the kitchen. Well, I guess this would definitely count as a significant “war scar” in my portfolio!

I even went back to the oven to check to see if there was any smell of burning flesh emanating from it. Perverse, huh? But no, all clear. It was quite safe to put the cake into the oven.

So, I went back to finishing the cake. I was clearly no longer in the mood for cake making. Like a one-armed Jack, with my right hand still pretty much immobilized by pain, I perfunctorily layered the batter into the cake pan, gave it a “who-cares” swirl of a knife, and popped it into the oven.

But you know what? The resulting cake was quite incredible. And yes, even worth giving up a piece of my skin for, literally.

Oh, you should have smelt the aromas wafting from the oven as the cake baked. It was heavenly! At times like this, I really wish I have smell-a-blog so that I can capture smells and share it online!

The cake itself was gorgeous. It was very moist and beautifully soft and fluffy, with a very tender and refined crumb. It tasted wonderful. Or as A declared: so much better than the one we buy from the shop. The chocolate bits tasted smooth and chocolatey, even with just the use of cocoa powder. And one would never have guessed that there was only 6 tablespoons of butter in this lightened version. It tasted as rich and flavorful as a regular marble butter cake.

The only thing I wasn’t overly pleased with was the look of the cake. I would have preferred more refined and elegant swirls of chocolate throughout the white batter, rather than a big central lump of chocolate batter as was the case with this cake. Well, I guess that came about from several elements. Firstly, my intimate encounter with my oven element. Secondly, the layering instructions given by the recipe. And thirdly, the chocolate batter instructions in the recipe, which resulted in too much chocolate batter in relation to the white batter.

The next time round, apart from reducing the amount of chocolate batter created, I would also probably have more layers of the batter as it goes into the cake pan, and start with a chocolate layer rather than white – that is, a layer of chocolate batter, a layer of white, another layer of chocolate and a final layer of white. This would give less batter per layer, and so when it comes to swirling it, it should produce a much prettier effect. Of course, this version of the cake, with the large chocolate center, made for very enjoyable eating for chocolate lovers, as there were large parts of chocolatey cake to savor, whereas a more diffused marbling effect would give a less concentrated chocolate sensation. So, I guess maybe it’s more a case of different styles for different cravings?

I was also not too happy about the fissures that appeared in the top of the cake as it baked. I would like some help and advice on this. What are the reasons for the cake “cracking”? Anyone know? How can I prevent this? Would love some suggestions or opinions on this. Thank you.

Other than the minor cosmetic imperfections, the cake was a taste-winner. This is definitely one recipe I would make on a regular basis.

Low-Fat Chocolate Marble Cake
[adapted from “Chocolate and the Art of Low-Fat Desserts” by Alice Medrich]

2 cups (8 oz) cake flour *
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon instant espresso powder or coffee powder
1/3 cup unsweetened Dutch Process cocoa, sifted
1 1/3 cup sugar
1 egg
1 egg white
6 tablespoons butter
1 cup nonfat plain yogurt **
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

* I recommend using the “swirl, lightly spoon into cup and level” method to measure out the cup measurements. Using this method, 2 cups of flour gave me exactly 8 oz of flour by weight. Using the regular “scoop and level” method would definitely provide too much flour, and result in a dry and dense cake texture.

** I used low fat yogurt, as I don’t usually have nonfat yogurt at home.

• Have all the ingredients at room temperature before starting. Spray a bundt pan with cooking spray and set aside. (Instead of the bundt pan, I used two 8x4” loaf pans).

• Combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt, and sift together into a medium bowl. (I sifted the flour mixture twice, as per my usual habit for making cakes, instead of just the one time as instructed by the recipe). Set aside.

• In a small bowl, combine the coffee powder, sifted cocoa powder, 1/3 cup of sugar and ¼ cup of room temperature water. Whisk together until smooth. Set aside.

• In another small bowl, whisk together the one egg and one egg white. Set aside.

• Cut the butter into small pieces, and using an electric mixer, beat for approximately 1 minute to soften the butter. Gradually add the remaining 1 cup of sugar and beat at high speed for about 3 minutes. Scrape down the sides of the mixing bowl periodically.

• Slowly dribble the whisked eggs into the butter mixture, one tablespoonful at a time, beating constantly for about 2 minutes.

• Reduce the speed of the mixer to low, and add 1/3 of the flour. Beat to incorporate.

• Add ½ the yogurt, and beat at medium speed until well-combined.

• Return to low speed, and add ½ of the remaining flour.

• Next, add the rest of the yogurt and also the vanilla extract, and beat at high speed to combine.

• Add the final batch of flour, and beat at low speed to incorporate. The mixture should be smooth, thick and creamy.

• Measure out 1 cup of the batter (the recipe actually called for 1 ½ cups to be measured out but I found that gave too much chocolate batter and not enough white batter). Gently fold the cocoa mixture into this 1 cup of batter.

• Using a large spoon, fill bottom of the cake pan(s) with ¾ of the white batter, placed in dollops. Cover the white batter with dollops of the chocolate batter. Top this with small dollops of more white batter, spaced out so that the chocolate batter shows through. Using a table knife, marble the batter together by swirling the batter with either a circular or zigzag motion. Do not over-blend. (These are the original recipe instructions. I would prefer the alternative as suggested in my narrative above).

• Bake in the lower 1/3 of a preheated 350F / 175C oven for approximately 45-50 minutes, or until the cake starts to pull away from the sides of the pan, or until a skewer inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean. Let cool for 10-15 minutes on a rack before unmolding.

Fresh out of the oven, the cake tasted amazing! Here is a picture of the last bite on the second piece (or perhaps more aptly “thick slab”) of cake that I devoured… not sure if you can see it, but look how tender, soft and fluffy the texture was…

Mmmm-hmmm… Shiokadelicious indeed!

Copyright © 2004 Renee Kho. All Rights Reserved.
Please contact me for permission to copy, publish, distribute or display any of the images or text contained in this article.

Oh Fudge!

One persistent thought filled my mind yesterday. I needed a chocolate fix. Well, alright, one doesn’t need chocolate, in fact, one doesn’t need many things in life. One needs food for sustenance and shelter for protection maybe, but one doesn’t need chocolate. Okay, so I wanted a chocolate fix… really wanted. The thought wouldn’t go away. So, a quick dig around my collection of un-tried recipes later… voila! This was the result… an incredibly chocolatey, fudgey cake, and best of all… pretty healthy too. Now, does it get any better than this?

Yes, I am still on my continuing quest to find healthy and utterly indulgent food. I’m all for indulgence. I love desserts, I love cakes and cookies… the richer the better. I want to indulge, not once a week or once every couple of weeks, no, I want to be able to indulge everyday as and how my desires strike. But I also enjoy being healthy and (hopefully) vibrant…

Okay, okay, enough of the rambling already. The cake, the cake…

Fudgy Chocolate Cake

1 cup Flour
1/3 cup Cocoa [I prefer European-style Dutch Processed Cocoa for a smoother taste]
1 ½ tsps Baking Powder
1 tsp Baking Soda
¼ tsp Salt
1 ¼ cups Packed Brown Sugar
2 Eggs
3 tbsps Oil
1 tsp Vanilla
1 cup Lite Sour Cream
½ cup Mini Chocolate Chips

Sieve the dry ingredients together. Place brown sugar, eggs and oil into a bowl and beat together with electric mixer on medium speed. Add vanilla and sour cream, and beat on low speed until well blended. Add the flour mixture, using low speed to combine, then beating on medium. Fold in chocolate chips. Pour into a greased 8” square pan. Bake at 175C / 350F for 40-45 minutes. The key is not to overbake the cake. Mine was done in 35 minutes. Cool in pan for about 15 minutes before cutting.

[note: I only had ½ cup of sour cream, so I had to improvise for the remaining ½ cup. I used equal portions of natural low fat yogurt and lite cream cheese, and it seemed to work just fine].

It was quick, it was easy, and… it was good!

Happy chocolate caking!

Copyright © 2003 Renee Kho. All rights reserved.
Please contact me for permission to copy, distribute or display any of the images and text contained in this article.

Ole! Chocabanana!

I just didn’t feel like working today. I was in one of those lazy, lethargic moods. And so I decided my weekend was going to start on a Thursday afternoon! ; D Hey, this is one of the (very) few privileges of working from home and running my own business... I can choose to have Friday come one day early! LoL.

Had an urge to bake something… anything… Saw the leftover chocolate chips from baking the cookies on Sunday, and thought I should try to use them up. Saw the bananas hanging there, starting to get a little over-ripe. And the proverbial lightbulb went off in my head… Visions of the gorgeous chocolate and banana cake I saw at Secret Recipe on Tuesday came to mind. Of course, theirs was this thoroughly decadent, elegant cake with layers of whipped chocolate fresh cream, slices of bananas, rich chocolate cake, all covered with chocolate ganache. I wasn’t about to attempt anything like that – but, a nice rustic, down-to-earth homemade banana cake with chocolate chips would be perfect for tea. Somehow, the fusion of chocolate and banana is always pure alchemy.

I hunted through some recipes and settled on trying the following:

2 c. plain flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
½ tsp salt
1 c. granulated sugar
2 eggs
¼ c. butter, softened
1 c. mashed bananas (I used 2 big ones)
½ c. lite sour cream
1 tsp vanilla
½ c. chocolate chips

- combine all the dry ingredients, except the sugar. When baking cakes, I like to sieve the flour twice, to give a lighter, fluffier crumb.
- sprinkle some sugar over the bananas before mashing them. This prevents them from oxidizing and turning brown (a tip I learnt from my mother).
- beat the sugar, butter and eggs on medium speed, until smooth.
- add in the bananas, sour cream and vanilla, and beat till smooth (the batter will be fairly liquidy).
- fold in the flour mixture.
- fold in the chocolate chips.
- pour into a greased 9x13” baking pan. I like to put a piece of greaseproof paper at the bottom of the pan to prevent the bottom of the cake from getting too crusty.
- bake about 25 minutes (or until skewer comes clean) at 175C/350F.

I was very surprised by the result. This cake was very good! (If I may say so myself). It didn’t bake into a very “tall” cake, but the crumb was very moist, soft and fluffy. I loved the color too – I like my cakes a beautiful, rich golden brown. Perhaps I could have added more chocolate chips, if I have had more available. But that may have made the cake a tad too sweet. It was very good as it was, and especially good when still warm from the oven.

And the reactions of the family? Two thumbs up!

Copyright © 2003 Renee Kho. All rights reserved.
Please contact me for permission to copy, distribute or display any of the images and text contained in this article.