I AM ... The Secret Santa

This year for my Secret Santa gift I had decided that no matter whose name I pulled out of the hat, I would bake something for that person that I was sure they would love. This was mostly because I had stumbled on a lovely rack of packaging for baked goods at Michael's that I couldn't help but spend too much money on. It was all planned out perfectly, until the name I pulled out of the hat belonged to a woman who cannot have any gluten. I was a bit bummed until I realized that this was the perfect opportunity to make some more macarons. I could experiment and try out some of the fancy oils and extracts that I have collected (not hoarded!!). I settled on three different kinds of shells-- pistachio, raspberry, and vanilla-- and three different fillings--custard, anise buttercream, and lemon buttercream.

Making the macaron shells was easy enough, although after the 100th little cookie I did learn that there are definitely some tricks and shortcuts that make them a lot less intimidating. However, that being said, the best trick is to read the recipe fully before you even start (for some reason, I still haven't fully learned that one...). Layering your baking sheets will definitely make your cookies thinner and sexier, but you will have to adjust your baking time or else you'll be wondering why they're still raw inside after they've been in the oven for nearly an hour. And not all sil-pat baking sheet covers will allow you to effortlessly peel off your freshly baked macs. In fact, I would say stay away from the sil-pat mats all together and just use parchment paper for this one. So much easier.

Also, as tempting as it is to buy the expensive raspberry extract from the specialty food store because it MUST be delicious... just don't do it. Seriously. It's not delicious. I have never in my life tasted a raspberry that tasted quite that potent and... terrible. The extract made the macs taste very strong and alcoholy, but combined with the anise buttercream, they were really nummy.

Unfortunately too, I have to say that my lemon buttercream ended up tasting like lemony fresh sunlight soap. Stupid lemon extract. Next time, I will stick to lemon rind or lemon oil, I promise. Lesson learned. Mostly. The anise extract made for absolutely scrumptious buttercream that I ate by the spoonful. Dangerous.

The Frog Cake

I did this cake a couple months ago and kind of forgot about it. The pictures lingered in my computer waiting to be posted and in the meantime I let the story behind them slip out of my mind. All I could really remember was that it was four layers of chocolate cake with vanilla butter cream and caramel sauce. But like any of the cakes that I do for (a teeny) profit, this one brought with it some drama.

For instance, the caramel dome that was supposed to contain the little frog shattered leaving me with dozens of shards of caramel and a frog with no where to go. Also, the little tadpoles ended up looking more like green mutant sperm than anything else... not really something you want to be thinking about while serving a two-year-old some birthday cake. Also, I think I made that caramel sauce for in the cake at least seven times.

If nothing else, I regret not going with my first instinct with this cake, which was to make the entire thing into a frog sculpture (kinda like this). I chickened out though, and instead tried to make something more like a little frog in some bulrushes with his little tadpoles (or mutant green sperms) beside him. The next one will be better, I promise!

My Macaron First

I've always thought of macaroons as being these impossibly delicate type-A little cookies that are designed only for those of us with infinite time, patience, and... insanity. But when you have eight left-over egg whites, a bag of ground almonds and a pint of fresh raspberries, you really don't have much choice. No more avoiding it-- there were macarons to be made.

Shockingly, they weren't impossible. In fact, I don't know whether it was beginner's luck or my own natural born talent (definitely the luck), but they turned out as perfect as I could have hoped! Little pink domes with bubbly feet that were crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside. The swiss meringue buttercream I doused with raspberries and lemon oil was delicious. Sweet and sour just like raspberry lemonade is supposed to be.

The only problem I had with these little treats was that once the cookies are sandwiched together with the buttercream, there are only about a dozen to pass around. And one really isn't enough. Not for me anyway.

So my advice for macarons is this: Do not be afraid, little ones. Go forth and create little monsters with tiny feet out of egg whites, sugar and almonds... Just be sure to grind the almonds fine enough. And let the beasts sit before going in the oven-they get cranky otherwise.

The Odyssey (or, Three Cakes of Gigantic Proportions)

Making cake is difficult. It doesn't look difficult, and even when you break it down into it's component parts, it almost doesn't seem difficult. But trust me--it is. Then add to the already difficult state of difficultness the fact that you don't have a vehicle (other than your own legs) and you're working completely alone. The level of difficulty is suddenly compounded by a factor of seven.

I always thought cake was easy. I figured that was why so many people went into the cake business instead of, say, French or Viennese pastry, which is notorious for being finicky and temperamental. Cake itself is simple: butter, flour, eggs, sugar, and flavour. Mix it together, stick it in the oven, and it's done. Swiss Meringue Buttercream, fairly strait forward: egg whites, sugar, heat and beat then add butter--it takes some practice and maybe somebody walks in and things you're actually a sailor with Tourette's, but once you get the hang of it, it's a walk in the park. You could even say that after finding your groove with sugar paste flowers and decoration that too becomes something you could do in your sleep.

However, what you don't take into account is the timing, organization and planning that is critical to making cake without feeling the need too cry in a corner and pull out your own hair. This I learned the hard way.

It seemed innocent enough: Lemon Cake for 70 people. No rolled fondant coating. No fancy pipe work. No tiers. Simply, three Lemon Cakes iced with Lemon-Vanilla Swiss Meringue Buttercream, each decorated with a spray of pink sugar paste roses and rose buds. Simplicity was the key.

Except for it wasn't. Without a vehicle, daily trips to the grocery store and back hauling my own weight in butter, sugar and eggs became a grueling task that I quickly grew to hate. Once home, I'd unload the bags from my aching arms, change into my purple short shorts, prepare my mise en place and get to work. Turns out that to make two 4 layer cakes that are eight inches in diameter and one 4 layer cake that's 14 inches in diameter takes two days, five pounds of butter 2 pounds of sugar and 4 dozen eggs. And those are just the easy numbers! Blood, sweat and tears baby. Because in the middle of the summer, baking cakes without air conditoning can be very hot. Sweaty. Kinda gross.

It's hard to plan for excessive heat, just like it's hard to plan for a burnt cake. You've got to work with what you've got and if you can't do that then... well then you've got to make another trip to that god awful grocery store. On foot.

And a word to the wise, don't think you're doing yourself a favor by buying that extra pound of butter at the Seven-11 around the corner instead of walking to the 12 blocks to Safeway. Seven-11 unsalted butter is $8.46/lb. Couple pounds of that and your net profit is definitely screwed.

In the end I can complain about all the little things that went wrong with these cakes. The buttercream that I had to triple; the cakeboards that I lost; the finger that I ripped open; and even the two pounds of desperate Seven-11 unsalted butter that cost me $16.92 (plus tax!); the fact that I made enough cake to feed about 200 people and still have some left over. But in the end, I'm so proud of how these cakes turned out--exactly the way I wanted them.

I think they tasted pretty good too.

Is it possible to have a food enemy?

There are three foods in this world that I just cannot enjoy (aside from cheese, which I am slowly starting to appreciate and even admire). Olives, liver and white chocolate. Don't get me wrong, I haven't just written these foods off because of their smell or a single bad experience, I just cannot for the life of me get myself to enjoy them. The really unfortunate part of this is that I desperately want to enjoy them.

Except for olives. They're just yucky.

My parents both love love love liver. They order it at restaurants and drool over it at home. By rights, I should enjoy liver too. However, instead of salivating at the sight and smell of offal, my esophagus closes right up and I can taste the bile rising in my stomach. Delightful, eh?
Believe me, I've tried to eat liver. After reading in Julie&Julia about the delicate buttery taste of finely prepared chicken livers and seeing carefully put together dishes of liver on menus, I have tried my best to gulp down a forkful. Not successful. Not even a little bit. So even though I want to be adventurous and cook up a pan of chicken livers with something french and fancy sounding to go along side them, I cannot. This makes me sad.

As for white chocolate... I mostly just find this confection to be a frustrating pain in the ass that pops up everywhere I don't want it to. I still use the stuff. I think I'm deluding myself by believing that if I use it enough I will learn to like it. So far I have only learned that white chocolate can be very expensive and never to mix it with cream cheese no matter what the recipe says.

I made a cake this weekend, a prototype cake for a 50th wedding anniversary that I'm baking for in August. The only request was that the cake be lemony. So I got out my books (of which I have way way too many) and searched through them to find the very best sounding lemon cake. Of course it would have to be the cake with the white chocolate lemon buttercream icing that looked the best by far. Couldn't be the one with the regular chocolate buttercream or the one with the fancy italian meringue buttercream... nope, it had to be the one that called for the really expensive and hard to find white chocolate that made up the buttercream.

When the recipe specifically asked for Green & Black's white chocolate with Madagascar vanilla bean seeds I let myself think that maybe my disdain for white chocolate came from the lower quality white chocolate that I just bought from the bins at Superstore. So I (naively) phoned around to find this elusive brand of chocolate that turned out to cost $4.87 per 100grams at the community health foods store. Awesome. Not only did I have to shell out $15.00 on chocolate I wasn't even gonna like, I would have to go to the grocery store that smelled like patchouli, body odor and guilt (for eating pig) (I love pig).

Long story short, the cake was delicious. A buttery almond lemon cake that, while dense, absolutely melted in your mouth with the lemon curd that filled each of the layers. I didn't even mind the tangy white chocolate taste that came from the buttercream. When placed with the cake and the lemon curd, it all balanced out really nicely. But is it worth the super expensive imported chocolate? I gave out samples of the cake to people at work and they seemed to agree that yes, it was worth the money.

But I still don't like the stuff. I can't help it.

Saskatoonberry Ginger Ice Cream

I bought myself another toy. This new toy (like all my toys) has made me very excited because in 10 minutes and $70.00 it allowed me to venture into a whole new area of delightful food: the frozen dessert.

Frickin' ICE CREAM!!! I bought an ice cream maker and it is awesome.
Yes, it was a little bit more than I would have liked to spend on an ice cream maker--the ideal amount being closer to $0... But from what I've read, this baby will last me for a very long time if I give it the proper love and attention it deserves. A good thing because I plan on trying out a new flavour as often as I can manage.

Unfortunately, I'm going to have to learn to be patient with my new little toy (and in life). The instructions that came in the box said to let the canister cool in the freezer for 6-22 hours, so naturally I figured that 5 hours would be enough to bust out some world class Hagendaz. Oh Erin... how naive. After standing over the mixing soupy swirl of purple cream for 45 minutes (when the instructions said only 25) I decided that I should maybe just throw it all in the freezer before I blow the motor on the first day.

After a night in the freezer though... wow. That ice cream was decadent and creamy and a little bit gritty because of all the seeds that I was too lazy to strain out, but good god it was delicious. I managed to create a roomful of smiling people with black chunks of saskatoonberry in their teeth. It was glorious.

The Saskatoon berry Ginger Ice Cream was adapted from Not So Humble Pie with saskatoons substituted for raspberries, a minced knob of fresh ginger in lieu of the candied variety, and a splash (that's right, a 'splash', I went there) of vanilla added in with the whole milk. I think it worked out amazing considering I completely botched the (very essential) churning step of the ice creaming process. Next time I think I'll try using just whole milk instead of mixing it with the heavy cream and maybe less sugar. Also, slightly less ginger. I really enjoyed it, but I don't think my family really appreciated the acute burning sensation that accompanied their ice creamy goodness...

Hee hee!! I love my ice cream!!

Under the Sea Carrot Cake

When I was little my favorite movie beyond any doubt was The Little Mermaid. The only Disney Princess with red hair who spent most of her time swimming and dreaming. Even now, if I stumble upon The Little Mermaid on TV it's very likely that I will sit and watch it to the end no matter which part I came in at.

That all being said, Ariel was not my inspiration behind this cake. It was a bouquet of flowers with some fuzzy sea-foam green fronds that I tried to mold out of gumpaste that ended up looking nothing like fronds and everything like wavy coral. That combined with daisies that looked like lotus flowers and these bizarre "fantasy flowers" that look like they belong on Finding Nemo made me change the whole direction of this cake from "bright and elegant" to "under the sea flowery-coral-reef-thing". I think it works for me though.


Interesting fact about the marbled blue fondant: I MADE IT FROM SCRATCH!

I think that fondant is one of those things where you go into it a naive little girl and come out a man. Or maybe not a man... just less of a naive little girl. After an hour strait of kneading and twisting and manipulating that impossibly solid dough, my arms were screaming for mercy and I had beads of sweat rolling down my back (gross, I know, but you asked!), BUT the fondant was delicious. There was no trace of that weird chemical taste that lurks around store bought fondant, just a (very) sweet vanilla with a hint of almond.

Underneath the gumpaste flowers and fronds/coral, the fondant coating, the pink ribbon (that, I will admit, needs a bit of work), and the sparkling shimmer dust that I sprinkled liberally over the whole cake because what’s a cake without sparkles, was the best carrot cake I have ever had layered with the strangest whipped buttercream I have ever made. The cake came from a new book all about organic baking, and while not all the ingredients I used were organic, I will say that this cake exceeded all expectations and made me want to try more organic ingredients in the future. But I think that in itself will be a post for the future. In the meantime I will leave you with this: Making fondant is labour intensive, but definitely worth it; everything in life comes right back to Disney (or at least that’s what I tell myself); and organic carrot cake is seriously ballin’.

A Third Swedish Princess Torte for Easter

A huge log of fresh marzipan was waiting for me on the kitchen table early Easter morning. Its purpose: to cover six layers of genoisie cake filled with pastry cream and strawberry jam, topped with an enormous heap of stabilized whipping cream. My mission was to have this potentially elegant Swedish delicacy baked, filled, covered, wrapped in a pretty bow, and cooling in the garage before noon.

Shockingly, I did just that.

Making the cake itself was very simple. Beating whole eggs with sugar until the mixture had quadrupled in size and then gently folding in sifted flour (the key was to sift the flour over the egg mixture while folding at the same time so that I didn't end up with lumps of flour) were really the only two steps that needed to be taken to successfully (more or less) pull off the genoisie. The purpose of using a genoisie instead of a standard white cake is because this particular french confection is known to be really dry and somewhat tasteless until it is filled and sauced. Because the Swedish Princess Torte is so creamy, a more moist cake (like the Martha Cake I used for my last SPT) makes the final product dense and almost mushy. From all that I've learned, Swedes are anything but mushy.

The most difficult part about making the pastry cream and the strawberry jam was fending off the family that couldn't wait until it was in the torte before they got a taste.

Pastry cream has become one of absolute favorite things to make. This was after many pitched attempts that turned out looking just like scrambled eggs in water and tasting not too much better. When done right, pastry cream or custard takes on a smoothe texture and a rich taste that envelopes you like a warm hug and makes you smile against your will. Mixed with a fresh strawberry puree and you have simple bliss.

Once the cake was put together and topped with a generous (very generous) heap of stabilized whipping cream, I went about the task of colouring and laying on the marzipan. It's almond sugar paste and it's finicky. But I perservered and came away triumphant. Sure, it looked a bit like Shrek's head on a platter, but it was delicious nonetheless. Creamy and almondy with six (SIX!!) layers of cake that melted in your mouth. All done by noon.

Sometimes I am awed by my own awesomeness when under pressure.

Playing With My Food

I like to play with my food. Not in a mountain-out-of-mashed-potatoes-this-means-something kind of way, but more in a... how can I make this taste different or better or healthier or (forgive me) organicier. Because my family enjoys acting like a bunch of enablers, I got a book called Culinary Artistry by Andrew Dornenburg and Karen Page. This book is laid out kind of like a culinary dictionary of flavours. You look up the word "lemon" and it will have listed all the things that compliment the lemon flavor of a dish from almond and raspberry, to honey and lime.

Which leads me to my discovery! You can make meringue with honey. You just substitute equal parts honey for sugar in your meringue recipe (or swiss meringue buttercream recipe, which is what I did) and voila! You have to be careful about what kind of honey you use though because some varieties are much stronger in flavour than others. I just used a little bottle of liquid honey that I found in my cupboard. A subtle honey taste that wasn't overly sweet.

There are lots of cool thing about being able to use honey as a sugar replacement in baked goods, the first of which being that it supports local industry (which also decreases the the output of harmful offgases and enegry produced in shipping sugars from places like Australia and Cuba). Honey is also a completely unrefined sweetener that retains moisture so that when it's used in baked goods, so the goods actually last longer than when regular sugar is used. The more you know, eh?

This all came about when I had made a lemon curd to fill my cakes with and wanted a buttercream that was a little different from the regular vanilla that didn't overpower the velvety lemon curd. So now I have a buttercream recipe that is sugar free. And I have to admit that it was pretty exciting coming up with this on my own. Playing with your food is bound to pay off sometime.

Honey Swiss meringue Buttercream
Adapted from Martha Stewart's Cooking School

1 1/2 cups sugar (OR 1 1/2 cups HONEY-- if you want a less sweet, more subtle honey flavour, use only 1 cup honey)
6 large egg whites
pinch of salt
1/4 tsp cream of tartar
1 pound unsalted butter cut into tablespoons and room temperature
1 tsp vanilla extract

1. Combine suagr (or honey), egg whites and salt in a large heatproof mixing bowl and set the bowl over a pan of simmering water. Whisk until whites are warm to the touch and sugar (or honey) is dissolved, 2-3 minutes.
2. Attach your bowl to an electric mixer and beat on low speed until foamy. Add cream of tartar and beat on medium-high speed until stiff glossy peaks form and mixture is cooled completely, roughly 10 minutes.
3. Reduce speed to medium-low and add butter two tablespoons at a time beating to incorporate fully after each addition. After the butter has been incorporated, add vanilla. (If the mixture looks curdled, don't worry and just keep beating-- it will smoothe out on its own)

Project Cake Number THREE and my SECOND cake commission

It's hard for me to decide where to start this post and what exactly to do with it. This week I had two multi-tiered cakes due that both needed to be decorated to perfection while still maintaining my high standards for taste (ha! how's that for high class food jargon!). I've always struggled with timing when bake, so this week I made an exact schedule that I was to follow to the minute if I was going to finish these cakes, go to work, and maintain some semblance of sanity. A very loose semblance of sanity.

But like anything, there were many phases that I went through to complete these two cakes on time and without throwing any sharp objects.

Phase One: Excitement
It was at this (misguided) first phase where I decided it would be a good idea to go for a three teir cake and a two teir cake. Lasting approximately 3 days, I made over two dozen fondant roses and rose buds in various creamy pastel colours while watching BBC dramas on the tv. After taking out every baking book I owned, I settled for a "simple" sponge cake that I could put together and freeze no problem. I would also whip up a marscapone cream in lieu of a buttercream for the three teir cake for something different to try. I wanted this cake in particular to impress. I looked at countless photos of wedding cakes and youtube videos of making wedding cakes for inspiration and nailed the ability to effortlessly draw out a 3D picture of a teired cake with any number of designs on it. Pages and pages of designs.

Phase Two: Apprehension
The thing about looking at countless pictures of wedding cakes online, is that after a while they all begin to look exactly the same. The colours, the flowers, the general themes... it's as though all these cakes were taken out of the same book. However, with a generic cake look, comes an inherent expectation for that exact look. An expectation I was begining to believe would be very very difficult to meet. It was during this phase where I began to try scheduling myself to the minute. It was also here where I keenly chewed off each and every one of my carefully manicured fingernails. Delicious.

Phase Three: Calm
The thing about phases is that there is always one stuck in there that surprises you. In one single day I set out to (calmly) do everything on the schedule with no excuses or complaints. This meant that in that one single day I made 4 cakes, a lemon curd, lemon syrup, raspberry syrup, marscapone cream, and honey buttercream. That's right. Honey buttercream. And yes, it was as spring delicious as it sounds. Unsurprisingly, this was the least stressful part of the whole ordeal. I got to be creative and play with food the way I always have. It came naturally and I was able to dance through the kitchen listening to The Clash and Adam Ant without any worries at all. It was going to taste good (it was going to taste freaking delicious actually) and really, to me, that's all that has ever mattered.

Phase Four: Terror
The two teir cake was the project cake for the final class of my cake decorating course. As part of the criteria, I had to get as far as rolling the fondant onto the cake before the class. Everything else would added at the actual class itself. First off, let me say that fondant is the stupidest concept ever. You don't actually eat it, and putting it over a cake is most likely the reason I will die of a heart attack or stroke at 30. Forget high cholesterol--fondant is where my issues lie. That's not the terrifying part though. Oh no, that's only stressful. The Terrifying part is the part where I have to drive to the class with this cake place precariously on my lap. If it fell due to a sudden stop or turn I think I might have actually got out of the car and punched someone in the face. Little bit high strung at this point, needless to say.

Phase Five: Acute Panic
Cake number 2, the three teired cake that was commissioned, is covered in fondant, has some admittedly adorable ribbon wrapped around it, and a nicely piped string of pearls. AND IS SAGGING LIKE THE PARTS ON AN OLD PERSON!!! People ask whether it's themed as the leaning Tower of Pisa (so clever) and I am very concerned that the whole thing will topple over before I even get a chance to pipe on my carefully planned decoration. Is the cake inside alright? Has it turned into some kind of mouldy mush?? When I deliver it to my unwitting (possibly unwilling) partons, will they cut it open to find something green and hairy living inside?? All I want to do is peel back the blue fondant and check...

Phase Six: Sweet Relief (see also, pride or euphoria)
It's over. The whole ordeal has finally come to an end and I can see the cakes for what they are. They really are quite pretty. I don't think I've ever made anything that looked quite so beautiful before. It's almost a shame that they'll have to be cut into and devoured. They look like they're worth the time and effort (and maybe even the tears). I have to say that even the actual decorating part was exciting to the point where I didn't want to stop. Didn't expect that one!

When everything is all said and done, I think I learned more from making these two cakes these weeks than I could have learned reading any one of my many many books or online. I know that the next one will be easier only because there are so many things I would do just a little bit differently. I'm just going to keep my fingers crossed that the cake inside isn't actually green and hairy...

Key Lime Tartlettes

For months now I have been in search of the perfect lemon curd and a tart that could be made with it. I've conjured up recipes from magazines and books and blogs, none of them have provided me with a curd that is smooth and sweet and has a subtle tang that reminds me of sunshine. Which are the basic requirements of a good lemon curd. That, and I also have to be reminded of daisies. It's just a thing. Whatever. When I eat anything lemon-centric I want to feel the sun kissing my cheeks and maybe some cool waves lapping at my toes.

So when I saw a bag of key limes on sale at the grocery store I thought I might try mixing it up a bit. A couple of limes in with the lemon curd. Or maybe the other way around. I wasn't really paying attention--too overwhelmed by my (not as new as I would like) discovery! The pairing was so perfect I could have smacked myself in the face.

Those bitty little limes managed to tame the overpowering sour nature of the lemons. And I was able to come up with a key lime-lemon curd that kissed me right down to my toes.

Best Buttercream Ever (it's gonna kill me...)

I’m twenty-two years old and according to my doctor, I have high cholesterol. This isn’t the good cholesterol that keeps your body fit and your brain active, no, this is the cholesterol that supposedly clogs your arteries like a bad traffic jam and results in your early -- and most definitely ugly-- demise. This comes off as somewhat of a slap-in-the-face to me not because of my age, but because of my “active lifestyle”, perfect weight range, and the fact that while I may be making loads of sugary confections every week, I very rarely eat more than a couple bites or a single slice. All this restraint and motivation, not to mention the hours spent peddling peddling peddling away on the stationary bike sweating buckets and going nowhere, has resulted in me feeling and looking good, but also having the chemical makeup of an eighty year old obese man!

I shouldn’t complain too much. I’ve done my own research and found that most recent studies on “bad” cholesterol have shown that it is in no way related to heart disease (and, in turn, in no way related to my early and ugly demise). This is a relief. A huge relief actually. The chart my doctor gave me listing the foods I was to stay away from and the foods I was “allowed” to eat was... extensive. To sum it up, I can eat any fruit except coconut, most vegetables, absolutely no butter or other milk products with more than... 0% Milk Fat, and as many egg whites and boiled chicken breasts as I want.

So when I discovered the Best Buttercream Recipe EVER--a recipe that contained 8 egg yolks and over a pound of butter-- I figured the best course of action would be to say a quick prayer to the gods of deliciousness, whip it up, and know that if my research was wrong and I suddenly died of intense artery cloggage, at least I’ll have died with a smile on my face.

Which brings me to the whole point of this rambling post, which would be to give you the recipe for a buttercream that I guarantee will make you moan softly, close your eyes in bliss and revel in the joy that comes from an image of fluffy pastel wearing angels dancing on your tongue. Ladies and gentlemen, don’t let the simplicity fool you, this is not your grandmother’s buttercream.


Buttercream
Adapted from Baking by James Peterson

8 egg yolks (I only used 6 because that was all that I had)
1.25 lbs unsalted butter just a titch cooler than room temperature cut into small pieces
2 cups sugar
2/3 cup water
2 tsp vanilla (or your choice of flavoring)

1. Pour your sugar and water into a heavy bottomed saucepan and boil on high until it reaches the "soft ball" stage. Meanwhile, beat the egg yolks on med-high speed in your mixer until they quadruple in volume and are very pale. About 10 minutes.
2. While the mixer is running, slowly pour in the hot sugar syrup careful not to touch the sides of the bowl or the beater itself.
3. Add the butter, one chunk at a time, waiting until each chunk is incorporated before adding more. Add vanilla.
4. The mixture should change suddenly and become very pale, thick, and fluffy.

I like bugs (on cakes)

This was my project cake for my final cake decorating course last night. It's just a small cake (I already have two other cakes in the fridge from this weekend--I really didn't need another one), but that was perfect because I only had half an hour to make the buttercream, apply a crumb coat, a top coat, and press on my bug before I had to be at the class. Surprisingly enough, I managed to make it to the class in time, cake fully intact.

I wanted something very simple but ended up with something very cute instead.

My First Cake Order

I never thought of making fancy cakes for money. As I've said before, I'm really not the most artistic person in the world, so why would someone want to pay me to not be artistic? So, while I didn't understand it, I went for it and took a commission to bake and decorate a cake for a friend.

Of course, I couldn't just go for a simple one level chocolate cake. Nope, I decided to try (for the first time) a two tier chocolate cake with chocolate swiss meringue buttercream and pureed strawberry filling. Go big or go home right? In defense of my sanity, the cake was not enormous. The bottom tier was only 8 inches in diameter and the top tier was only 3.5 inches in diameter, so it was more like a mini tiered cake.

I had the whole process planned out to the hour. Friday morning I was going to put the cake in the oven so that while I was at work, it would cool and then I could do the crumb coat when I got home. No pressure, no stress, no worries. Of course this plan fell through within minutes. The cake didn't get into the oven until about 8:00pm Friday night, and while the two little top tier cakes turned out very well, the 8 inch bottom tier took an hour and 45 minutes to cook through. I don't know whether it was the oven, the batter, or the fact that the pan was deeper than the recipe called for. When it FINALLY came out it seemed no worse for wear, but after I let it cool outside the pan for a little bit, I realized that the crust of the cake was more than a little brick-like. While the cake was taking forever to bake, I made the filling in my (awesome) food processor, combining just strawberries and pectin. The strawberries were sweet enough on their own that they didn't need any extra sugar. And besides, the cake was chocolate ontop of chocolate ontop of more chocolate, more sugar was not necessary. I would have to carve the outer layer of crust off the cake before I could do anything with it. It was pushing 1:00am before I went to bed, cakes wrapped in saran wrap, butter and eggs sitting on the counter waiting to be mixed into decadent chocolate frosting.

Saturday was awesome. I had so much fun all day putting the cake together that I didn't even mind getting up at 7:00am.

I started with the swiss meringue chocolate buttercream. It worked out way better than it ever had in the past. I really think the key to baking is actually using ingredients that are room temperature (and not stuff right from the fridge with the excuse that it's the room temperature in Nunavut...). With the hard crusts cut off, I sliced the bigger cake into three layers and put together three layers of the smaller cakes as well. Once filled and crumb coated, the big cake was ready to go sit on the porch outside to cool along with the small (and much more difficult) cake.

After that it was easy. A final coat of buttercream, smoothed out with a heated spatula, piping out "happy birthday mom" (the most difficult word being "mom"), and some chocolate flowers. It was finished 45 minutes before she came to pick it up. Awesome timing on my part! Maybe I need to work on that part for next time. My only issue with the cake is that I don't get to try it to see if it turned out as delicious as I intended. I'll have to figure out how to work around that issue for next time too...