Real Cakes of Paris

29/12 REAL CAKES OF PARIS

Christmas came and went, leaving us with nothing but feeling very solid. I did intend to write up the whole christmas feast, but by the time the table was heaving I was already sedated. A bottle of Bolly keeping my liver happy. This cake was the first to be finished and the last to be eaten, the nutty book ends of christmas day. Admittedly it was more chintzy centrepiece than consumed. That didn't stop anyone the day after, a little stale but with a coffee.

This is a nutty cake in the sense that there isn't a whole lot of sweetness and mostly from the dried fruits. The nutty sweetness from the chestnut puree quietly compensates, which is even nuttier when paired with the bitter cocoa. Unnecessary - but seasonally welcome - the decoration was the real housewife in me. Desperate to put on a show until the next day, beyond over it, where this will be there to console you in all its sticky glitz.

Ingredients (all approximate) - 

250g Chestnut Puree
250g Prunes
100g Sultanas
2 Eggs
3/4 Cups Sugar
1.5 Cups Self-raising flour
1 Shot Whiskey/Rum
1 tbls Cocoa
1 tsp Cinnamon
Pinch of salt

What I did - Oven Preheated to 180 degrees

Melting pot heated up; stir the sugar, butter, chestnut, dried fruit, alcohol and spices until they form a sticky lumpy sludge. When simmering slowly, take off the heat and prepare the other ingredients. The ugly birth of a ritzy cake.

All prepare the other ingredients means is measure the flour into one bowl and beat the eggs together in another. The sticky and sweet sludge should have cooled enough for you to add the eggs, beating very quickly to incorporate before they catch and cook into scrambled eggs. Add the flour just after and beat again.

There you have it, the sludge has gone through childhood and is about to be baked through the award teenage years into a diva of a cake. Pour the mix into a non-stick tin, any will do but the bundt hole is always fun to play with. Bake at 180 degrees for about 1 hour, then check if baked and give another 10 minutes or so until certain.

Leave to cool for a few minutes before turning out, the rapid change in temperature helps solidify the cake. The gilt sugar was leftover from a failed christmas bake, and found its purpose here. Just brush the top rim of the cake with warmed (to soften) apricot jam and scatter the edible bling. Fill the hole with a clementine if unsatisfied. Real Domestic Goddesses of Paris much, appearance is everything - even if it didn't get eaten.

JG

Midnight Martian Magic

07/11 MIDNIGHT MARTIAN MAGIC

 

I'm not superstitious, but the endless depth and unfathomable unknown of space has the power to terrify and rapture. I also believe that midnight is the witching hour, a time brining change for better... or worse. On the stroke of midnight between the 17th and 18th of August I was born into the world, proof there is no way to avoid calamity. The fate of this cake was torn by these forces. Baking by the moon at midnight conjured a magic brining the cake back from inevitable disaster.

The fruitcake cauldron method was taught by Prof. Lawson, albeit an improvised recipe which got lost in the space between cake and brownie. I set out to bake a decorated Bundt* cake. But living up to its name, it ended up sticking to the ancient tin and loosing its molding. A frustrated sleep later the cratered top was remedied with a thick buttercream. Supernaturally reborn, this Bundt of a cake resembles interstellar rings but tastes truly magical.

*Bundt: NOUN def. someone/thing that is a bit shit, missing core aspect, frivolous ornamentation, pot-plant holder. A ring-shaped cake made in a fluted tube pan, called a Bundt pan.


Ingredients (all approximate) - 

3 eggs

200g Self-raising Flour

200g Muscovado (Dark) Sugar

200ml Honey
175g Unsalted butter

1 Whiskey Shot

100g Dark Chocolate

200g Raisins

75g Dried Apricots (chopped fine)

Pinch of salt
1 tsp Ground Coffee

2 tbls Orange Marmalade
 

*I haven't found the buttercream recipe yet, but any French one will do so long as it isn't sickly sweet.


What I did - Oven preheated to 160degrees

My midnight cooking usually starts with a cast iron pot. This is no exception and the whole cake mix is made in the one cauldron, a fruitcake secret passed on from Nigella. Tumble the raisins, apricot, honey, sugar, marmalade, salt, coffee and whiskey into the pot and simmer over a low heat. Stir constantly until you have a glistening fruit mixture, when combined turn heat off. Chop the chocolate finely so that it melts with ease. Stir it as it succumbs to the heat creating a gleaming aromatic lacquer.

Leave the mix to cool and prepare the baking tin, I use a 25cm Bundt tin which reduces the depth of the cake and for such a dense mix ensures an even bake. Make sure you line the bottom and flour the sides, avoid all my mistakes. Then measure out the flour, and beat the eggs in a bowl.

Give the mix a stir, if there is any steam rising let sit longer to cool. Add the eggs quickly beating them before they cook. When combined add the flour and beat again. The mix morphs into something much lighter and should be set in the tin immediately. Level the mix and bake for 1.5 hours. Don't be hoodwinked by the subtle rise, it will cook through and have a dark shiny crust.

Unmold the cake and leave to cool until the morning. I wasn't happy with the botched Bundt bits, so I found a French buttercream recipe to landscape the top. I used cocoa and alien black-sugar to blast one side of this Martian fruitcake like a solar flare. Le voyage dans la lune 🌝

JG

Note: Best served in thin slices with coffee or tea, something to manage the intensity. Unless you feel wine-in-the-bath indulgent.