Applesauce Cake (... for I am sick with love)

"Sustain me with cakes of raisins, refresh me with apples...." 

-Song of Solomon 2.5

Cake- disregarding perhaps the Song of Solomon (and Marie Antoinette)- is not an essential thing. It's a beautiful thing. When you walk into the house and there is a sheet pan with a knife next to it and a rectangle cut out- it does not scream "Cake!"- no matter how luscious it is. It's so worthwhile to go the extra distance- buttering 2 pans instead of one, slathering some cream on one layer, and topping it with another, more cream, some jam, some chocolate shavings... a handful of paper-thin apple slices dried in the oven and scattered like the fall leaves tumbling outside the window. Put it on a cake stand. You can even serve lentil soup for dinner and no one will notice- because they will be saying "Oh! Cake!" Does cake deserve anything less?

Applesauce cake with raisins is a perfect example of a cake longing for this treatment. Instead of a lunch box afterthought, it's a festive, elegant dessert- the kind you clear the table for before you present it after dinner. 

Here it is:

First, line two 24 cm/9" round cake pans with baking paper- butter lightly, dust well with flour, and give them a good tap upside down over the sink. Take a handful of currants and sprinkle some rum over them- heat gently so they soak up the rum. Then grate a piece of fresh (peeled) ginger- the size of your thumb.

Then, in a small bowl:

300 g/ 2 1/2 C flour- (using half whole wheat- as long as it is soft/pastry flour- adds a sweet nutty flavor.)

5 ml/ 1 teaspoon baking powder

2.5 ml/ 1/2 teaspoon each salt and baking soda

a little ground cinnamon, nutmeg, and clove (careful with the clove- it can overpower very quickly)- we can tweak it in the final mix.

In a large bowl, beat:

225 g/1 C butter 

400 g/2 C brown sugar (you could start with a little less and, depending on the sweetness of your applesauce, tweak it later.)

then add: 

4 eggs, one at a time, beating until blended in. 

Measure out 500 g/2 C applesauce.

Now we'll add half of the dry ingredients, then half the applesauce, then rest of the dry ingredients, then the rest of the applesauce, and the rum-soaked raisins. Taste for spices and add more if it needs it.

Spread the batter in the prepared pans (and if you have a kitchen scale out- go ahead and weigh them to see that the batter is even between them), and bake at 175 c/ 350 f  for about 15 minutes, switch racks, and bake another 10-15 minutes, until the cake springs back and a toothpick comes out clean.

While the cake's in the oven, you can make these:

They tumble over the cake like fall leaves.

Slice a whole apple as thinly as you can on a mandolin/slicer- don't worry of they don't all come out whole- they shrink in the oven anyway. Lay them in a single layer on a metal dish, and let them dry and brown in the oven alongside the cake. They will not be completely dry, but have a lovely color on the edges.

before...

after (about 10-15 minutes- keep watching)

Even without the apple leaves, the cake is impressive with a tall crown of whipped cream, sweetened as you like and with a little vanilla or rum to scent it. Make sure the cake is completely cool before you assemble it. If you can let it sit for an hour or two in a cold place before serving, the cream will sink into the layers a bit and soften them. It is a wholesome thing in truth, but you'd never know it.

That's a little golden syrup drizzled over the top-
 maple would be nice, too.

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Chocolate Pudding and the Platonic Ideal Archetype

As it happens, national dessert day- which I am hearing about for the first time, has fallen on gray weather, a weather more suited to philosophy books than to fancy. I have never liked Plato. Things as they are manifested cast over me such a spell of delight that I see no point in imagining the Ideal of which they are a projection. It seems to downplay physical life in all its glory, and what is dessert if not that? (And speaking of philosophers, why would dessert day fall on the birthday of Friedrich Nietzsche?)

But it did set me to thinking- what is dessert? What makes something a dessert? I have had desserts that have impressed, desserts that have challenged, desserts that have surprised me. I've loved all of them. But these desserts have answered a purpose. What about a dessert that is its own purpose? I suppose the role of such a dessert is very simply to make us happy. Chocolate pudding answers that purpose very nicely.

Well, that was simple, but it was only half the question. Chocolate pudding may be an ideal dessert, but what makes an ideal chocolate pudding?

Four books, four recipes, one very nice result!

The Cesar's recipe was very heavy on the cream, promising like it says a crema, not a pudding. The first Gourmet cookbook's recipe for old-fashioned chocolate pudding contained just one egg, and its newer edition, the recipe for rich chocolate pudding, contained five yolks (the Maida Heatter recipe- the gold standard- calls for four). Likewise, the two Gourmet recipes called for half the cornstarch in the ration compared to the Maida Heatter- since the recipe has proved foolproof, I stuck with those proportions. Some brown sugar for flavor, cocoa powder and solid chocolate both for depth, and I arrived on paper at a synthesis of the four recipes- then doubled it, because, well, what's the point of having a small amount of chocolate pudding? 

Fresh milk with a little canned milk for extra richness.

Yolks, chocolate, brown and white sugars,
cocoa powder and cornstarch

For several nice portions:

1 liter/ 4 generous C fresh whole milk

250 ml/ 1 C evaporated (not sweetened condensed) milk for extra richness

65 g/ 10 T cornstarch

40 g/ 8 T cocoa powder

100 g/ 1/2 C brown sugar

120 g/ 2/3 C white sugar

6 egg yolks

150 g/. 5 oz dark chocolate

Mix the dry ingredients and just a little if the milk, then add the rest of the canned milk and most of the fresh milk, saving a half a cup for the yolks. Whisk constantly over medium heat until it thickens:

The pudding before it thickens,
the egg yolks ready to be tempered and added,
and some sea salt

When the pudding thickens- which happens all at once it seems- add a little to the yolks to bring them up to temperature, then add back to the pot, stirring all the while over very low heat. Then add the chocolate in pieces:

The chocolate provides enough extra fat for texture (the pastry cream recipe calls for butter to be added at the finish).

Lastly, add a pinch of salt, taste, add vanilla extract, and taste again.

It's worth using a strainer to ensure extra smoothness, and a wide funnel makes it easy to divide into various teacups and jam jars:

Waiting for whipped cream.

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