Tuesday, October 12, 2004

Professional (ish) Dessert Construction

Birth of the Topple

The key word here is construction. You can build some pretty impressive desserts from simple materials. No, I don't mean you should make your desserts from baling wire and toothpicks, but the ingredients don't have to be outlandish or even take much work. I'm not sure when I hit upon the realization, but I know it was during a Texas summer. Normally, I tend to think of desserts as something having a baked or poached-fruit component, but 100-degree days put the kibosh on that sort of preparation. I know, in moments of utmost laziness, you can always opt for store cookies (I prefer Pepperidge Farms Milanos or Brussels) and sorbet, but where's the fun in that? I want to put stuff together and have my family ooh and ah before falling on their dessert like ravenous hyenas (having learned quickly what gets repeat performances from the kitchen, my wife and kids are great oohers and ahers, by the way).

Generally, for constructed desserts, I find that the key elements are pretty much the same as the keys to any successful meal: balance and sensory appeal. Desserts are most pleasing when they are sweet but not too sweet, colorful but not gaudy. Tart flavors should balance against buttery and creamy flavors. Smooth textures should be highlighted with crisp fruit or a crunchy component. Vanilla, cardamom, nutmeg, cinnamon, allspice, herbs, and citrus can add aroma as well as texture, but too much of a good thing is just bad.

Inspiration counts for a lot, too, and the calendar always plays a role in inspiration. If a fruit catches your eye in the grocery store--something looks particularly fresh, sweet, ripe, juicy, colorful--well, that just might be nature's way of telling you to start planning tonight's dessert. This was my experience early this summer with Texas blueberries. The local markets were packed with fresh bulging blueberries. I bout a pint and immediately began scouring my taste memory for things that would go well with blueberries.

Balance is also important in the workload. I think every cook agonizes over the question of what to buy ready-made and what to make from scratch. I don't want to oversimplify the answer to this question, but sometimes it's just a matter of advantages. Will I gain anything by making my own Caesar dressing over buying Cardini's? Well, that depends what else I'm serving. If the Caesar salad is the principal player in a meal, I might want to make my own with whole anchovy strips and shaved Parmesan and fresh lemon juice. If the salad is just a minor player, I'll opt for the bottled stuff. Other considerations include
  1. Can I make something markedly better than the store-bought stuff?
  2. Do I have time to make whatever it is from scratch?
  3. Does this effort require tools that I do not possess?
  4. If the effort is expensive in either funds or time, will it make much difference?

For instance, no matter the situation I'd sooner brush my teeth with a nail file than use store-bought Hollandaise or Bearnaise sauces. On the other hand, I'd never think of making my own hoisin sauce or Dijon mustard.

But we were talking about desserts. What all this listing and justification and juggling of nuances is leading up to is my excuse for buying a cake. The nearly-100-degree weather convinced me that I should buy an angel food cake to use as the base for my dessert. I was not baking a cake that night. Besides, frankly, I've never cared much for baking cakes, I don't have a bundt pan, the cake was destined for a supporting role, it was hot, and it was a Thursday night (I never can seem to get my shit together on Thursday nights). Anyway, I call this dessert a topple, because

--uh--

because it looks like one.

dramatis personae

  • one angelfood cake (well, probably not a whole cake)
  • zest of one small orange (or tangerine or Meyer's lemon)
  • one cup heavy whipping cream
  • two tablespoons confectioner's sugar
  • one quarter teaspoon cream of tartar
  • a dash of cardamom powder
  • one quarter cup marscapone cheese
  • one quarter cup pear butter
  • one half pint of berries (blue, black, rasp)
  • two tablespoons hulled pistachios

quality of ingredients

The cake should be uniform in shape and texture, moist but not sticky, sweet but not too sweet. I realize it's difficult to determine all of this if you've never tasted this particular bakery's cake, but you won't need the entire cake, so taste a bit. If the cake is too sweet, halve or forego the sugar in the whipped cream.

The berries have to be fresh and should not be mushy. Freshness can be tricky with some berries. Blueberries can be especially tricky; I think green blueberries deliberately masquerade as fresh berries to confound me. As with the cake, you'll need to taste the berries before you use them. If they're a bit on the tart side, cut each berry in half and use half as many on each topple.

When selecting the orange remember that you are going to use only the zest. Well, okay, you can use the rest of the orange in something else or eat the damned thing while you're whipping the cream, for all I care. But the zest is where your attention should be when you purchase the orange because that's the part you're using in this dessert. For this application, the color of the zest is unimportant. The aroma and overall health of the zest are the only important aspects. You want an orange (or tangerine) with no blemishes in the zest. Test the aroma by nicking it with a fingernail. It should have a strong, sweet, pleasant citrus aroma. If it smells too acrid or if it has little aroma, pick a different variety. If you can't find a decent orange or tangerine, a lemon (preferably a Meyer's lemon) will work.

preparation

Remember I said this is a construction. Since you've purchased the only cooked components of this dessert (the cake and the pear butter). Begin by preparing the filling and the whipped cream.

The filling's pretty quick. Combine the pear butter with the marscapone in a small bowl and whip them together with a fork. I like a uniform consistency, but you might prefer the filling to have a slightly striated appearance. Either way works. You might also be wondering, why the hell is he using pear butter? Apple butter is far easier to find, and it tastes good with berries, too. I suppose you could substitute apple butter for pear, but apple butter has a more assertive flavor than pear, so you'll probably want to use less.

I've never understood why anyone would use ready-made whipped cream. It's simple to make, takes less than 10 minutes, keeps for a couple of days, and tastes many times better than the ready-made. The topple uses orange-cardamom whipped cream, which sounds fancy but is damned simple. Combine the zest (if you don't own a microplane zester, get one) sugar, cream of tartar, cardamom, and cream in a large mixing bowl and whip it good. This is not rocket science. Whip it until it peaks. Use a silicon spatula to scrape the sides every minutes or so to ensure even distribution of the ingredients.

Break up the pistachios a bit. They needn't be chopped or ground. You want pieces that are in the neighborhood of a third pistachio size.

Slice the cake radially, like you slice a pie. You need two half-inch thick slices per serving. Use a large, extremely sharp knife and slice down slowly to avoid crushing the cake. On each plate, place one slice of angelfood cake, spread on a tablespoon of filling, place a second slice atop the filling offset slightly, so that it looks like it's sliding off the first. Top this with a large spoonful (a quarter cup? hell, I never measured) of orange-cardamom whipped cream. Sprinkle eight or ten berries and a teaspoon of pistachio chunks on each topple.

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