the rules of baking (and why you should sometimes forget them) + a celebratory cake
Home Baked: A Year of Seasonal Baking
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I didn't grow up cooking or baking. My sister and I were able to observe in the kitchen but were rarely active participants. I left home with a vow never to wash lettuce again and the ability to make white sauce without ever having referred to a recipe. These were the two jobs I was allowed to do. I knew the theory behind chopping an onion or creaming butter and sugar but had never put it into practice. It's unsurprising that a career path in food was never a consideration.
My love of food grew the more I cooked and baked. I experimented, tried new recipes, bought unfamiliar ingredients and realised a love of baking that must be part of my DNA. I am almost entirely self-taught, which, like most things, has an upside and a downside. If you are unaware of the rules for baking, you can't break them. Through trial and error, you discover what works. The flip side is that if you knew the rules, you might have got there a bit faster!
In the food world, cooking is freeform; you can change things without adversely affecting the result. Conversely, baking is considered akin to a science experiment, where failure to follow the rules will result in just that: failure.
You see this written repeatedly - that if you bake, you must follow the rules closely. It used to make me wonder what I was doing wrong or how I managed to succeed when I was baking because I didn't always follow the rules. When I first started baking, I had a glass jug with measurements marked on the outside. I used this to measure cups and a standard teaspoon to determine smaller quantities. I would guesstimate the amount of butter needed by cutting a square 500 g block of butter diagonally into four roughly 125 g pieces and working from there. I was blissfully unaware that there were other more accurate ways of baking. I had enough success to grow my confidence.
I have graduated these days to scales and a proper spoon measure, but despite this, I am still a little loose with my measurements. A few grams more or less has little impact on the finished result, or a minute or two extra in the oven will, for most recipes, make little discernable difference. Despite my success, there was always a nagging doubt that perhaps I could be better if I was more exacting. Some years ago, I read the introduction to Magnus Nilsson's The Nordic Baking Book, and I realised that there were others with far more professional training than I have who, similarly to me, thought that baking could be a more relaxed activity than was usually touted. It was a light bulb moment and, more importantly, the beginning of a realisation that I should have more confidence in my skills.
Everyone tells me that baking is a science and cooking is more of an art. I think what they are trying to imply is that in cooking you can be a bit more playful when you follow recipes, while in baking you have to follow them to the letter. I don't think this is true at all. Magnus Nilsson
Nilsson muses that if you understand the basics that govern the results you are looking for, you can be just as playful with baking as you can with cooking. It's more that people cook more than they bake and so intuitively have a better understanding of the process.
Social media clickbait articles don't help the trepidation that surrounds baking. Side-by-side comparisons can be useful and help inform our baking, but in reality, this isn't how most of us bake. We aren't baking science experiments.We might be interrupted and leave the mixer going a little too long; the cake left in the oven a couple of minutes extra, the butter not quite at room temperature. Despite this, the cake you bake will most likely still look good, taste great and be enjoyed by those you baked for. Will it be technically perfect? Probably not, but is that really what we're aiming for?
Sure, there will be disasters; it happens to all of us. My chickens have been the fortunate recipients of quite a few baking disasters. For me, they usually happen when the recipe isn’t quite right. The first time, I persist even if instinct tells me it’s not going to work. If the recipe looks like it has potential, I might tweak it next time and hope for a different result. The other disasters tend to happen if I am really not in the right mood to be baking. I become careless and uncaring, not a good combination.
Baking should be a joy, a wonder at the alchemy that comes from mixing a few simple ingredients and transforming them into something else entirely. That and the pleasure a simple home-baked item gives to others.
I do have some guidelines, rather than hard and fast rules, that may help you bake successfully. You can find them here.
Mutti’s Celebration Cake
Growing up, our day-to-day cakes were generally quite plain, making this one all the more special simply because of the icing. This was the cake requested for birthdays and any other special occasion. It was, my mother tells me, a recipe that belonged to my paternal grandma, although I don’t remember her ever having made it. Each component is quite simple: a plain cake sandwiched with pineapple jam, iced with a chocolate cream cheese icing and decorated with a crumbled Flake. However, when combined, it is a real treat.
At the time, the recipe was quite an aberration because of the cream cheese icing – how very American! Unlike many cakes today, where the icing seems almost as thick as the cake, this has a more restrained amount, but I think a much more balanced one. The cake was only ever sandwiched with pineapple jam, the Golden Circle brand one that came in a tin. Unfortunately, it’s no longer available; indeed, pineapple jam isn’t that easy to find, so I’ve given you a recipe for a cheats version.
Serves 10-12
For the cake
250 g salted butter
250 g caster sugar
4 eggs
250 g self raising flour
2 tablespoons milk
Pineapple jam, recipe below
For the icing
225 g block of cream cheese, softened
180 g milk chocolate, melted
150 g icing sugar
2 Flake bars for decorating
Preheat the oven to 170°C. Grease and line a 20 cm round cake tin.
Use a stand mixer or electric hand mixer to cream the eggs and butter until they are light and fluffy. Add one egg and mix until it is fully incorporated. Add the second egg and mix well. Add the flour and mix gently. The batter should be a dropping consistency, so if it is a little thick, add a small amount of milk.
Spoon the batter into the prepared cake tin and smooth out the top. Bake for 25 minutes or until a skewer inserted into the centre comes out clean. Remove from the oven and stand for 5 minutes before turning onto a wire rack to cool completely.
To make the icing, put all of the ingredients into a bowl and use a spatula to mix it together.
When the cake is cool, cut it in half horizontally. Put the bottom half of the cake on a serving plate and spread the top with the pineapple jam. Put the other half of the cake on top. Use a pallet knife to spread the icing over the top and around the side of the cake. Crumble a couple of Flake bars over the top of the cake.
Pineapple Jam
440 g tin of crushed pineapple in syrup
Juice of 1 lemon
110 g sugar
Empty the tin of pineapple into a medium saucepan. Add the lemon juice and sugar and bring to a boil. Boil for about 10-15 minutes until most of the liquid has evaporated and the pineapple looks thick and syrupy. Remove from the heat and cool completely before using.
Next week: among the cherry orchards + cherry, chocolate & almond Loaf
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