Peach Buttermilk Cake by Molly Brodak

This terrible thing happened to my tree, which is where our story starts. My spindly but well-loved peach tree.

I planted this peach tree in our front yard myself. I nurtured it, fed it, checked on its growth and progress obsessively. I documented its budding, flowering, and fruiting. I selectively pruned away 60% of the green peaches to make sure the remaining fruit would be large and flavorful. I monitored their progress for months. 

Phone photos evidence my mania.

Then, I found one underdeveloped little peach on the lawn, half-gnawed. I was enraged. Little nibbly bites meant squirrels.

I festooned the tree with yards and yards of bird netting and secured it. Just for good measure, I sprayed all of the now-protected peaches with hot pepper spray which is supposed to burn the devil out of any little sneaky rodent mouths.

I checked on my peaches almost every day

I checked on my peaches almost every day

The peaches kept disappearing. One morning, I found only three remained. More netting, more spray, and yes--I resorted to watching from the porch. 

Soon the netting stakes were uprooted and every last peach was gone. Every. Single. Peach. Eaten by squirrels.

I admit it--I cried. I had been delightfully counting my proverbial chickens before they proverbially hatched, planning all the wonderful things I would make with those peaches. I started to plan my defenses for next year, which, I assure you, will be no mere cosmetic application of nets and staking. I'm going to build a goddamn fortress around this tree. And I will have homegrown Georgia peaches--next year.

Fortunately for me, LOTS of good people in Georgia grow fantastic peaches mere miles from my doorstep, so acquiring local peaches was no epic task.

Thank you Pearson Farm

Thank you Pearson Farm

This is one of the things I would have made with my peaches. Turns out, peaches from just down the road are just as tasty in this buttermilk cake.

Although many cake recipes use a touch of buttermilk as a tenderizer, this cake has a wonderfully pronounced buttermilk flavor because it simply has more. It tastes so buttermilky it reminds me of biscuits! So it pairs well with the sweet and fragrant flavor of fresh peaches. Often I will cook down a fruit I plan to incorporate into a cake batter (like strawberries, for example) to remove some of the water from the fruit and intensify its flavor, but I knew cooking these peaches would have destroyed their fresh taste and was also unnecessary, since they are already very intensely flavorful. 

There is a lot of liquid in this cake, so a 50/50 mix of cake flour (I always use White Lily) and all-purpose flour will help keep the cake's structure intact. I recommend cooking this cake fully and allowing it to cool completely in the pan, as it is a delicate cake and can't take rough or rushed handling. A small amount of cornstarch in the batter helps to keep inclusions (like peach chunks) from sinking to the bottom of the pan while the cakes rise. Still, some will fall to the bottom--if you chop your peaches finely there is less of a chance they will all settle downward.

I frosted this cake with my version of 7-minute, or cooked flour, buttercream (post on this soon) and outfitted her in dusty blue fondant and an ombre swath of pink gumpaste spray roses. It's funny...I'm not a huge fan of roses, but somehow when they are made very small I suddenly love them. I guess it is a cuteness thing. The wafer paper leaves add light and transparency to the arrangement, although I'm still woking on a good system for getting the wires to stick to the leaves--it's much more annoying than gumpaste leaves!

Peach Buttermilk Cake

6 oz. all-purpose flour

6 oz. cake flour (White Lily)

1 Tbsp. corn starch

2 1/2 tsp. baking powder

1/4 tsp. baking soda

12 Tbsp. butter, softened

12 oz. sugar

1/3 c. vegetable oil

1 tsp. salt

1 Tbsp. vanilla extract

4 eggs, room temperature

1 1/2 c. buttermilk

2 c. finely diced fresh peaches (about 3)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

Mix or whisk dry ingredients thoroughly and set aside. Whip butter and sugar until light and fluffy, then add oil, vanilla extract, and salt and whip until combined. Add eggs, one at a time, and beat until uniform and fluffy. Sprinkle in 1/3 of the dry ingredients and mix until combined, then add the rest and mix until just combined. Mix in buttermilk until smooth. Fold in peaches.

Divide batter among two or three greased and floured 8" or 9" pans and gently smooth tops--do not tap pans to remove air bubbles. Bake for 30-40 minutes until centers are fully set and spring back when pressed--undercooking will result in a gummy texture. Allow to cool completely in the pan, then split, fill, and frost.

I dare you to come get this one, squirrel jerks

I dare you to come get this one, squirrel jerks

 

 

Perfect Chocolate Cake by Molly Brodak

Let me just get this out of the way right off the bat: I don't really like chocolate cake. It's always just a little wrong somehow--too dry, not chocolately enough (just, you know, chocolate-colored), too rich, too sweet, too something.

I needed to make my peace with chocolate cake.

There are so many kinds of chocolate cake out there. Americans prefer a sweet, soft, light cake--like the box mix. In fact, box mix seems to be the standard to which all homemade cakes are measured, strangely. It's a texture thing. American cakes have to be light and moist, which is tough for butter-happy homebakers (butter is a huge factor in why homemade cakes are often dry--more on this later).

Australian chocolate cake is mud cake--dense, rich, almost brownie-like to us. And in Europe, most chocolate cake is either a flourless torte or it's dry as a hard sponge--and why it's often soaked in liquor syrup or simply meant to be dunked in tea. There's a place for all of it.

I had a very specific set of criteria for the perfect chocolate cake: it has to be very flavorful, first of all, and it has to be moist but not dense. It has to have a fine, velvety crumb, with a soft but sturdy texture so it can be stacked, carved, and covered in heavy ganache and fondant. Most American chocolate cake recipes are great for cupcakes or sheetcake that does not get torted and carved--it has an open and squiggly crumb that is deliciously soft but terrible for tall, stacked cakes.

I normally trim my cakes but I didn't need to with this one

I normally trim my cakes but I didn't need to with this one

We're going to need cake flour for softness, a bit of sour cream, both cocoa powder and melted chocolate for the best flavor, and mostly oil instead of butter. Butter, while I love it to death, has a higher water content than oil (obviously) and also has those pesky solids--the whey--that harden the cake's sugar-fat-flour bonds. A thousand recipes later, balance was finally achieved.

The recipe starts with the melted-sugar method of which I am such a fan, and to the hot sugar the chocolate is added, so no extra melting step is required, conveniently. I decided to add the sour cream to the whipped cream that gets folded in and the end and it helped to keep the cake light and flavor-balanced.

This is not how most people make cake

This is not how most people make cake

The recipe is dairy and egg heavy, so swapping in some gluten-free flour is going to work just fine, but a non-dairy, egg-less version I believe would not be possible. You also have a good bit of sugar here, so make sure you are using unsweetened chocolate and not semi-sweet as a substitute. The espresso powder is optional but definitely boosts flavor, and I promise does not impart a coffee taste. 

the most velvety, moist crumb EVER

the most velvety, moist crumb EVER

Just to be sure I'd found tough-yet-tender perfection, I made an extra tall cake with custard buttercream and wrapped it in a heavy and dramatic molded fondant design.

Look at this piece! I made a silicone mold of a vintage wooden architectural detail I'd found in my mold-making madness that I knew would be absolutely killer on a cake. Typically fondant molds are little, fussy affairs, made from jewelry findings and meant to be arranged judiciously as appliques. This mold, on the other hand, makes the cake in one fell swoop.

I die

I die

This recipe makes a LOT of cake--about 9 cups of batter, so feel free to halve it if you are only making a small cake. It will fit four 9" pans generously, or--as I have done here with this cake--two 3" deep 6" pans and two regular 4" pans. I can't recommend enough to get yourself some deep cake pans rather than the standard piddly shallow ones. You'll save space in your oven, since more layers can come out of one pan, and they help prevent overcooking/dry cakes. Using a flower nail or heating core in the center of a deep pan will ensure your cakes cook evenly.

This cake takes a syrup soak really well, and I highly recommend it, since all chocolate cake is prone to drying due to the chocolate itself. Just make a simple syrup, add the flavoring or extract or liquor of your choice, and brush or squeeze on before icing.

 

Perfect Chocolate Cake

14.2 oz. cake flour (I use White Lily)

16 g. (about 4 tsp) aluminum-free baking powder 

1 oz. (about 1/2 c.) Dutched process cocoa powder (Hershey’s Special Dark or KAF Black Cocoa are great)

3/4 c. heavy cream

1/4 c. sour cream

21 oz. (about 3 c.) granulated sugar

2/3 c. water

2 tsp. instant espresso powder

4 oz. unsweetened chocolate, chopped finely

2/3 c. plus 3 Tbsp. canola oil

4 Tbsp. unsalted butter, softened to room temp

1 tsp. salt

1 Tbsp. vanilla extract

6 yolks, room temp

4 eggs, room temp

Preheat oven to 350 degrees and prepare pans. With a hand mixer, mix the flour, baking powder, and cocoa powder thoroughly, until no lumps remain (do not skip this step, it is especially important with cocoa and cake flour which both tend to clump). Rinse beaters and use to whip cream in a cold bowl to soft peaks, add sour cream and whip to firm peaks. Place whipped cream in the fridge. Chop chocolate finely.

In a saucepan, heat sugar, water, and espresso powder over medium heat until most of the sugar is dissolved. Stir frequently or use your hand mixer to speed up the process (be careful that the cord is kept away from the burner). Do not allow mix to boil. Once the sugar is mostly dissolved, pour into a large bowl and add chocolate, mixing until smooth. Add salt, vanilla, oil, and butter and mix until smooth. Sprinkle 1/3 of the flour mix into the wet ingredients and mix well on low, then gradually add the rest but do not overbeat. Set mixer aside and grab a spatula and whisk. At this point, the mixture should be warm but not too hot to touch--If your sugar mixture is still very hot, allow it to cool--you don't want to cook your eggs.

Add the yolks next, two at a time, mixing in by hand with whisk, then the eggs. Don't be tempted to reach for your electric mixer. Just be patient. They incorporate better if they are room temperature instead of cold from the fridge. Then gently fold whip cream into the mixture with a spatula until completely combined. Pour into prepared pans and tap them hard several times on the counter to release large air bubbles. Bake anywhere from 20--45 minutes depending on your pan sizes and depth. Cakes are done when their centers spring back, they no longer jiggle when moved, and the edges just begin to pull away from the sides. I don't recommend poking anything into your cakes to test doneness--just a quick press with your finger in the center will tell you all you need to know. Deep pans will also cause the tops to split (see my photo) which is another good indication of doneness. Cool, level, and split cakes, then soak with simple syrup and frost.

One Buttercream to Rule Them All by Molly Brodak

It tastes like ice cream because it is ice cream, essentially. Custard to be exact. Just, not frozen.

This recipe is years in the making. I have tried every buttercream in every variation under the sun, searching for one that would be creamy, smooth, not too sweet, and yet sturdy enough to hold up under stacked cakes. Generally I give up on all the frostings and just make ganache.

Let's get to the heart of things. Bear with me--we need talk for a minute about the components of frosting--the very concept of frosting--in order to get at what we even want it to do. Along the way we'll run through the popular buttercreams and their issues.

We ask so much of frosting. Sealing in the cake's freshness and looking perfectly beautiful, It's supposed to be sweeter than the cake it frosts, but not sickly sweet. It's supposed to be both smooth and creamy yet fluffy. It's supposed to hold up under heavy stacked cakes, hold up in hot weather, hold up with all the dyes and flavors we add to it, hold up under heavy fondant and ganache, hold up to piping, freezing, defrosting, re-whipping, etc. etc. AND it has to be DELICIOUS. No wonder there are a million variations on a million recipes for the stuff--to accomplish all of these demands is no simple task for what is essentially a mere embellishment on a cake.

And so what is the theory, if you will, of its composition? We've got sugar for sure--either melted granulated sugar in a syrup, or powdered sugar (or both). The real debate, as you can see played out in the following paragraphs, is what body is best to transport this sugar to your palate. It's got to have a pleasingly fatty mouthfeel, a smooth and substantial texture, but not too heavy.

oh oh

oh oh

The first candidate is butter, obviously, hence the simple beauty of American buttercream. Whipped butter can for sure be fantastically fluffy, and the fattiness is perfect. But American buttercream is too sweet, and if you try to make it less sweet by leaving out some powdered sugar, it just tastes like solid butter. It's fine in a pinch, but not transcendent. Can be delicious if you add as much unsweetened chocolate to it as possible.

I'm not even going to mention the shortening version of American "butter"cream. Because, gross. The war is over my love, put the Crisco down.

How about something lighter, a little meringue? Swiss meringue buttercream (SMBC), the second most popular frosting, always bugged the everloving crap out of me. First of all, it's nonsensical to make a meringue and then completely deflate it by cramming a brick of butter into it. At least one person has realized that the entire meringue step is completely unnecessary. Nailing the emulsion between butter and sweetened egg whites is tricky because of the temperature difference--which is why there is almost always some form of encouragement in any SMBC recipe along the lines "when it turns to soup, don't worry, just keep whipping and it will come together!" If you haven't figured it out already, that "soup" is the remnant of the meringue you just spent all that time whipping up, which has now had 99% of its tiny bubbles popped. By hunks of butter. You might as well just pour sweetened egg whites into your butter from the get-go. Beyond that weirdness, it's delicate, prone to weeping, and has a creepy texture. Yes, creepy. It's too slick.

Italian meringue buttercream is somewhat better, since the egg whites are not cooked, cooled, then whipped up, but whipped first then stabilized with hot sugar. Still, it's a tricky meringue to perfect because of how you have to, you know, pour hot sugar into meringue and somehow not murder it. Also the subtle shine of this frosting puts me off, as if it contains gelatin.

The other half of eggs? French buttercream, with an egg yolk foam instead of an egg white meringue...well...nobody makes that one. It's good though, just very soft and yolky.

Pudding? German buttercream and cooked (flour) frostings...now we are getting somewhere. I've been fixated on these in the past six months, feeling like there is something perfect here if I can just get the ratios right. I love the full body of cooked flour (or seven-minute, or ermine, (such a great name!)) frosting, but the texture wasn't fluffy enough for me--it came out a little on the pasty side, and dull in flavor as glue unless a ton of sugar is added. It was the flour.

So, scratch the flour. That means there is one champion left on our list, the one who ultimately took the prize in every possible way: custard. About 40% custard to 60% whipped butter makes the perfect body for the perfect frosting.

We circle back to German buttercream. It's not a popular one because it's considered too soft to hold up to piping, and can have a yellowish tinge. 

Well. I am here to say I have solved all of these problems. I have solved buttercream, period, haha!

Light, delicious, AND obedient!

Light, delicious, AND obedient!

For now.

First off all, I saw several problems with the custard recipes in German buttercream. They were all made with yolks only and milk as the custard base. Obviously adding a whole egg or two is going to give us more lightness to balance out the heavy body and flavor of yolks. Swap some milk for heavy cream to add non-egg density and a lighter color. Thirdly, we are going to need two sugars here--granulated (for the custard) and powdered (to add to the butter). A balance of both means the perfect amount of sweetness/stability to the custard base and firmness for piping. And lastly--that utterly foolish last step in all recipes of adding small amounts of soft butter to the custard as you whip it--reverse that! Whip up your butter first to ultimate fluffiness, then add small amounts of custard. Duh. Now we have a frosting that is ridiculously perfect--light, fluffy, yet firm enough to pipe beautifully, not too sweet, perfectly rich (and because of the extra fat from the yolks and cream) carries flavors potently!

This is somewhat embarrassing to admit but I teared up a little the first time I tasted this recipe. You don't understand how long I have been dreaming of this frosting.

gasp

gasp

It doesn't break, it doesn't weep, it can easily be adjusted to your sweetness preference. Does it crust? No. But it's firm enough to cover with fondant anyway if you use the barrel wrap technique, which is what I almost always use (post on this soon!). 

Making the custard for this recipe will remind you of making pastry cream, except with cornstarch only and without the butter stirred in at the end. It will cool very firm, like unpleasant jiggly concrete, but that's ok, you don't want a lot of moisture in your buttercream or it will be too soft.

This frosting has an uncannily light texture while tasting rich and substantial. The flavor of fresh cream really shines here, which is why it reminds me so much of ice cream. And because you are heating the custard, it's a great application for flavor infusions, such as a split vanilla bean pod--or, where you can add your chocolate if making a chocolate version for seamless incorporation.

Onto it then. Yes it takes a bit of prep since you need your custard to cool completely before you can make your frosting, but I highly recommend doubling the custard part and keeping it on hand anytime you need to whip up some frosting--and, I don't really see a problem with having extra pastry cream on hand. It will last about three weeks in the fridge tightly sealed, and can be frozen for six months. 

Now, about that cake...this cake is ALSO something years in the making. A velvety, dense-crumbed, moist chocolate cake that is not even remotely heavy or dry, yet can be carved and stacked? Yes'm. But that recipe is for another post.

hello my love

hello my love

The fondant leaves and slim gold feathers I used to adorn this cake come from molds I sell on my Etsy shop from vintage pieces I have fiendishly collected over the years, if you wanted to know.

Custard Buttercream

aka the world's best buttercream

This recipe makes A LOT of buttercream--about 7 cups (enough to fill and frost two 8" cakes and then some). If you don't need that much right now, I recommend making the full custard amount, then freezing half of it for later use. Whip up your half-sized custard portion with half of the amount of butter and powdered sugar here.

8 oz. granulated sugar

1.5 oz. corn starch 

1 egg

2 yolks

1 c. whole milk

1 c. heavy cream

2 Tbsp vanilla extract

1 c. (two sticks) of salted butter

3 c. (six sticks) of unsalted butter

2 1/2 c. powdered sugar, or to taste

Whisk granulated sugar and cornstarch in a heat-proof bowl until well combined, then add egg and yolks and beat for 1 minute. Heat milk and cream on the stovetop until mixture starts to steam but not boil. Temper the egg mixture by mixing in a small amount of hot milk to eggs, gradually adding more until mixture is smooth, then pour contents back into the saucepan and cook for another minute, until the custard thickens and bubbles swampily. Remove from heat and strain custard through a fine sieve to catch any cooked egg bits. Mix in vanilla, press plastic wrap over the surface, and allow to cool in the fridge for at least 3 hours.

If the custard was cooled overnight or for longer than 3 hours, remove from fridge and allow to come to room temperature before using. Custard should be cool room temperature--not cold.

Whip butter until pale and fluffy, about 4-5 minutes. Add powdered sugar and whip for at least 1 more minute. Add spoonfuls of cooled custard to the butter and whip until completely combined. 

crying again now

crying again now

White Chocolate Fondant Recipe by Molly Brodak

I know, I know, fondant is gross. I get that. But I can never understand bakers who stick to a strict no-fondant rule when it comes to cake decorating. Fondant has its place and, really, if you make it yourself, doesn't have to taste so awful.

There are a million recipes on the internet for homemade fondant, and most consist of primarily melted marshmallows and powdered sugar. This one is no different, making it yet another recipe for "MMF" as bakers call it, marshmallow fondant. But the addition of a specific type of white chocolate and just a touch of butter makes this one, I think, the best MMF out there.

First off, let's talk about white chocolate.

White chocolate is not really chocolate because it doesn't have any...well...chocolate in it. But it does have cocoa butter, so at least there's something in there from the cacao pod.

To truly be considered white chocolate, it must contain this cocoa butter, along with a certain proportion of milk solids, milk fat, and sugar. Which is why most things considered white chocolate are not white chocolate at all. Notice the language on the packaging:

Mmmm, "white morsels." 

On the other side of things, you can get some really great authentic white chocolate from Callebaut and small-batch chocolatiers, but those I would save for, you know, just eating. 

My favorite white chocolate to work with in recipes is the Guittard Choc-au-Lait chips. They are the best tasting chips at their price point and they work as well in recipes as idiot-proof candy melts. Unlike other "white chocolates" at this price, Choc-au-Lait chips contain cocoa butter and are less sweet. I buy them in bulk.

I recently made a square cake with this fondant and it performed beautifully--no tearing at the corners, no sagging, no cracking. I kept the cake simple as a plain background for the pale pink gumpaste peony I spent days working on.

I have always been of the opinion that peonies look best in profile. Maybe because this shows off the cup-like petals better, for a more feathery, ruffled look. So I built up just one side of the flower and left the "back" somewhat flat so it would fit nicely against the side of this cake.

eeep

eeep

The fondant this recipe makes is stiffer than regular MMF, and you'll find that once it is set up you will need to warm it in your hands by kneading it, or even zap it in the microwave to get it more pliable. But I love the texture of this fondant--it has body and weight, yet can be rolled very thin without tearing or bubbling because of its durability. It also tastes much better than most fondant I've tried, with the white chocolate flavor to balance out the sweetness of MMF. 

 

White Chocolate Fondant

Makes about 2 pounds

1 16 oz. bag of marshmallows (I have found that it doesn't matter what size marshmallows they are)

1 TBSP. salted butter

1 TBSP. water

1 c. (175 g) Guittard Choc-au-Lait chips (other brands can be substituted in a pinch)

4 c. (455 g) powdered sugar, plus more as needed

shortening as needed

In a large bowl, melt the marshmallows in the microwave in 30 second intervals, stirring between bursts until completely smooth. Be careful not to overheat. Add butter, chips, then drizzle the water around the perimeter of the marshmallows to help loosen them from the sides of the bowl, stir with a spatula until chips are melted and mixture is smooth. Mix in powdered sugar, one cup at a time, using your well-greased hands to knead in the final two cups. Feel free to add a little more powdered sugar or shortening if mixture is too sticky. Knead until fondant forms a smooth ball, then coat with shortening and wrap tightly in plastic wrap and store in an air-tight container or zip-top storage bag. Because the white chocolate retains heat, the fondant needs to cool for at least three hours before using; overnight is best. It will stiffen as it cools.

Japanese Cotton Cheesecake by Molly Brodak

Imagine cheesecake made into some kind of tender, otherworldly cotton candy and you might be close to imagining the game-changing texture of this cheesecake. It's a souffle cake for sure, with plenty of eggs and just a little flour--but its also something else, something unique.

I was never a big fan of cheesecake, because texture-wise they come off as either solid hunks of sugary cream cheese (the unbaked type) or dry sponges (the baked variety). In fact I clearly remember a few years ago deciding that I would never eat cheesecake again--saying it aloud even, "I will never eat cheesecake again," simply because it was never worth the calories.

But then, this happened.

I found some recipes for a Japanese style cheesecake on various Asian food bloggers' sites which promised to be light and moist. Several failures and several adjustments later, my special little recipe for a world-ending cheesecake came into being.

And like all special desserts, this one requires a bit of prep. You have to make some caster sugar (no substitute--and buying it is financially reckless imho) and prepare a cheesecake pan for the water bath by wrapping it numerous times in heavy-duty foil like a maniac. But it is important. If any trace of water touches your lovely cheesecake you'll end up with a gross-ass waxy layer on the bottom. So wrap the foil very carefully to avoid tears--and use three layers.

You're also definitely going to need cake flour for this recipe and some fresh lemons. Oh, and it's important to use salted butter here because it will provide the only salt for the recipe--adding granules of salt would interfere with the airy texture of the cake.

my heart

my heart

Another tip: I always wipe the metal or glass bowl and the beaters I'll be whipping egg whites in with a little white vinegar. It eliminates invisible grease/fat that can prevent your whites from whipping up properly. 

While the icing is completely optional, I include a recipe for my lemon icing because I want to tell you the secret to lemon icing: citric acid.

If you like tangy lemony things, you need this little jar in your life. No matter how much lemon juice or lemon extract you add to any icing or cake, you will never get the fresh, zippy tang you are looking for without citric acid. Only a pinch is necessary, so I imagine the jar will last you the rest of your life. You can also use citric acid in canning, pickling, and preserving, if you are into those kinds of things.

So the flavor on this cheesecake is super lemony, and the texture is incredibly light, fluffy, moist, and melt-in-your-mouth. There's no better word for it than otherworldly.

I cannot imagine a better desert to serve at the end of a rich or spicy meal. I can see it now--guests lifted off to heaven on clouds of lemony dreams...

Buy the recipe here, and let me know how it turns out!

ascending to heaven just looking at this

ascending to heaven just looking at this

Bird Day Cake + Vanilla Malt Syrup Recipe by Molly Brodak

On the top of the list of the things I cannot handle right now is my birthday cake today. Happy birthday to me! Who hasn't wished for a couple of magic chickadees to help with one's cake decorating?

I mean.

I mean.

The little chickadees are hand painted gumpaste and suspended with a hidden wire behind the dual tone gumpaste ribbons they hold.

Under the dusty blue fondant is insanely good vanilla malt cake and a fudgy chocolate buttercream, my favorite combination.

I've been working on a good vanilla malt cake for a while and I've finally perfected my recipe with this cake. Simply adding malt powder to the mix didn't work--not only did the malt powder tend to clump up, but the malt made the cake drier with a darker crust (as malt encourages browning). So if you can't bake it in the cake, there's only one other logical choice--a soak!

I don't always soak my cakes in syrup because I really love my basic cake recipe and I usually don't think it needs to be any sweeter or moister. But this soak is so, so worth it.

Below is the recipe for the vanilla malt syrup I used to soak this cake, which made enough for both the 6" and the 8" layer. If you've never used a syrup soak on your cakes, don't be shy with this stuff. It might look at first like the cake layer is just getting soggy but it give it a few minutes and the cake will absorb all the syrup and become fantastically moist and delicious. I dab it on with a silicone brush, but another good way to apply it is with a squeeze bottle.

So this is another good use for the dark malt powder I'm sure you bought to make the Salty Malty cookies--the recipe for which, by the way, is going away soon, so be sure to purchase it before the next Recipe of the Month comes along (and I hear it's going to be a recipe for the cheesecake to end all cheesecakes...) This syrup is exactly what you need to make malted milkshakes, so it's great to have on hand.

Vanilla Malt Syrup

1 c. water

1 c. sugar

1/4 c. dark malt extract powder

1 tsp. vanilla extract or 1/2 vanilla bean pod

pinch salt

Heat water and sugar in a saucepan over medium heat or in the microwave until the sugar is dissolved. If using, add 1/2 vanilla bean pod and allow to simmer for a few minutes. Add the malt powder and stir until it is completely dissolved. Cool, and add vanilla extract. Store in the refrigerator once cooled.

I truly cannot even

I truly cannot even

I died

I died

Vegan Agar Gems by Molly Brodak

The recipe for agar gems is so simple that it really doesn't need a lot of explanation--which means this post is going to be full of just tons of eye candy instead.

Agar jellies have a less chewy consistency than gelatin desserts. Instead of being wiggly and gummy like gelatin treats, their texture is almost crisp in a way, incredibly delicate and quick to melt in one's mouth. It is the perfect treat on a hot summer day or as a refreshing dessert that doesn't require firing up the oven. The recipe I have here is just a slight adjustment to the instructions on the box: I have made these slightly more firm, and you can make your gems more or less firm by simply adjusting the amount of liquid you add. 

Making these gems is also super fun. Agar sets up much faster than gelatin dessert, so it is easy to layer colors and make interesting shapes while keeping the mixture warm on the stove. I ladled out small portions of the mixture into bowls and mixed in food coloring, or added a teaspoon of coconut milk to make the mixture opaque.

mini mountains

mini mountains

I was using flexible candy molds and flexible bakeware to make the agar dessert in since popping out the completed shapes was much easier with a flexible mold. If you don't have any flexible silicone bakeware to use, just be sure to line any cake pan or container you are pouring your agar mixture into with parchment. Then when you are ready, run a knife along the sides, turn agar out, and cut into desired shapes (the parchment is important because agar dessert will break apart easily).

agar92.jpg

 

You can also make agar spheres by dropping the mixture slowly out of a squirt bottle into a glass of cold vegetable oil (strain the agar beads out with a wire strainer and rinse briefly in cold water.

A blue sphere suspended in a triangle

A blue sphere suspended in a triangle

Below you can see how to make clouds on a celery green sea: just gently drop some opaque coconut-milk-agar mix into a clear portion of agar mixture that has been setting up for about 5-7 minutes (if you drop it in too early, it will all mix together). Once that layer is set, add another layer (the "sea" layer) and then when you cut this piece up, flip upside down.

The agar has basically no flavor except for a very light herbal taste. You can add any flavorings you like to the mixture, but clear extracts are best to keep the colors bright. I recommend lemon or coconut.

I used Swallow Globe brand agar-agar powder, which I picked up at my local Asian food grocery but you can purchase this online, too. I found it was not as crystal clear as I would have liked, so if anyone has any recommendations for an agar-agar that sets crystal clear, let me know!

Vegan Agar Gems

1 oz packet agar-agar powder (7 g)

120 g (4.25 oz) sugar

750 ml (25.3 fl. oz) filtered water

2 tsp lemon extract

Coconut milk and gel food coloring

Bring water to a gentle boil in a small saucepan and add the sugar, stir until dissolved. Turn the heat down to barely simmering and add agar-agar powder, stir until dissolved. Add extract. Keep mixture warm while ladling out small portions to color. Allow layers of mixture to set for at least 8 minutes before adding another layer. Cool completely, turn out, and cut into desired shapes.

looks and tastes like joy

looks and tastes like joy

Early Spring Wagashi by Molly Brodak

I have been working on these delightful treats for a long time now and I'm really excited about these forthcoming posts. I will post about each recipe separately so the series will have three parts--what follows is a general overview, and I'll be sure to keep this page updated with links as they appear.

Wagashi is a term for a wide range of Japanese sweets. If you were going to be served wagashi at tea, you would expect a variety of tiny desserts, artfully arranged, and evocative of the current or upcoming season. Summer wagashi might be colorful and refreshing, autumn wagashi might be more subdued and warm. You get the idea.

I have been poring over websites and cookbooks and magazines for the last few months to study these treats and I wanted to stay true to the seasonal themes, but replace many of the traditional Japanese ingredients such as sweetened bean paste and chewy glutinous rice for more familiar dessert flavors and textures for American tasters. 

These adorable baubles are modeled on temari balls, decorative objects made by wrapping silk thread in various patterns around a ball. The wagashi version is made with mochi and red bean paste, but I made these with easy homemade marzipan. They are super simple but very fun and would be a great project for kids or on hot days when you don't feel like firing up the oven.

Next come the jellies. These are vegan, too, made with agar and the occasional splash of coconut milk for opacity. These are my version of yokan, which are jellies traditionally made with red bean paste and served chilled in summer, sometimes with an assortment of fruit. I made them with lemon and rosewater to keep the fresh spring feeling going. Agar sets up much faster than gelatin and doesn't need to be chilled, so layering colors and textures in this process is way more satisfying and and easy. Spheres of agar can be made by dropping it from a squirt bottle into a glass of chilled oil, just like those molecular gastronomy goobers do with their nerd-food concoctions (I am not knocking those goobers, I love them, please serve me all the nerd-food spheres you've got).

And lastly we come to the rakugan springerle. Rakugan are little cakes of dried sugar and rice flour that have been pressed into molds and imprinted with designs. They aren't delicious really, they have the chalky texture of Smarties, but are meant to serve as a counterpoint to the astringency of matcha. I started collecting old kashigata (the wooden molds made for these sweets) on ebay and they reminded me so much of german springerle molds, the connection seemed obvious. So I made traditional springerle in the Japanese molds and dusted the resulting cookies with matcha powder for flavor and beautiful light green color. I used edible petal dusts for the other colors. I also used some of my fondant/gumpaste molds to supplement the kashigata designs. The anise seeds that normally stud the bottom of these cookies were swapped out for sesame seeds, which toasted lightly in the oven and added to the subtle lemon and green tea flavors.

Stay tuned for these posts! Recipes and tutorials for all of the above will be coming out throughout March!