A Sugar High with a Cupcake Cutie

My friend Amanda knows a lot about human behavior. So she probably knew it would take me all of two seconds to agree to join her for a class on baking Nostalgic Snack Cakes at the Institute for Culinary Education (ICE) in New York City.  

Who could resist such an offer? After all, we both grew up in suburbia during the golden age of lunchbox snack treats, where nobody really fretted about a little sugar or empty calories in the diet and hyperactivity was euphemistically described as “school spirit.”  Suzy Q’s and Ding Dongs are our ethnic food!  Having already delved into the art of the homemade Twinkie, I’m anxious to expand my snack cake repertoire. 

The class is led by Chef-Instructor Faith Drobbin.   She’d laid out a sampling of snack cakes that she’s prepared in advance.   There are freshly turned Twinkies, Suzy Q’s, Funny Bones, and Ding Dongs.   

We chat about the different names of cakes generated by the longtime rivalry between snack cake giants Hostess and Drakes. Was it a Ding Dong or a Ring Ding?   What’s the difference between a Twinkie and a chocolate glazed Twinkie, called a Chocodile? Is the filling Marshmallow Fluff, or buttercream?  What’s the difference between a Yankee Doodle and a Sunny Doodle? What were Captain Cupcake’s actual super powers? The class is filled with snack cake aficionados, but I’m just a little suspicious of the woman in the back of the room chomping on a Granny Smith apple.  Who let her in?  

Chef invites us to try the samples she’s laid out.   Everyone is very polite and restrained, but after 5 minutes I can’t hold back.

“I’m going in,” I whisper to Amanda.   We divvy up a chocolate glazed, cream filled Ding Dong.   It is a heavenly, light, devils food cake, filled with sinfully good cream filling.  "Do I have chocolate in my teeth?" I self-consciously ask Amanda.   

Chef Drobbin does a fine job of demonstrating the Yellow Snack Cake recipe, and the Chocolate Snack Cake recipe.   Here’s where I have a snack cake epiphany.   Every single snack cake in the universe consists of either yellow cake or chocolate cake, with cream filling and a chocolate glaze.   No matter what the snack cake may be, the recipes for the individual components are the same.   If you master the recipes, you unlock the caloric key to infinite variations.   At this moment, I feel a little like Escoffier and Twinkie the Kid all at the same time. 

Amanda’s insight is just a little different as she eyes the Chocodile.  “I really think the key learning here is that everything is better dipped in chocolate,” she remarks.

We get ready to bake, and there are lots of questions from the class.   How do you get the goop in?   How big should we make the Twinkies?

“How big do you want your snack cake?” comments Amanda. “These are First World problems!”

Chef advises us that with the proper recipes, pans and techniques we can create a fine facsimile of any iconic snack cake.  Yet they won’t taste exactly the same.  Ours will taste better, because we’re using butter and eggs.  

We start baking and needless to say, as the day proceeds, our vegetable intake is minimal, and our carbohydrate consumption is close to astronomical.

We prepare Chocolate Snack Cake for cupcakes, Ding Dongs and Chocodiles. At times, we find ourselves engulfed in a cloud of cocoa, but when it all comes together, the batter is dark and glossy.

We decide to double the batter for the Yellow Snack Cake Mix.  This is a bit of a no-no, and Chef is somewhat peeved. When we’re done, we actually have enough snack cakes to host a birthday party at PS 143 in Queens.     

Amanda becomes quite accomplished at injecting cream filling into the cupcakes.

And, we perfect the high art technique of snack cake glazing. 

Some of it resembles Lucy and Ethel at the candy factory. At one point, a blob of icing lands on Amanda’s big toe.  She has worn flip flops to the class.  I really need to talk to that young lady about proper kitchen attire.

The final touch?  We express our inner doodler, by applying the squiggle of icing on the top of the Hostess Cupcakes.    We have prepared enough empty calories to power an army, and we box up our cakes and head for the subway.   I have a sugar hangover. Amanda complains that she’s thirsty and she has a tummy ache. She returns home to consume a large helping of animal protein, and enjoy the adoration of her daughter who has been waiting all day for treats from Mom’s class.  

Me?  Well, we were such a well frosted, high producing team that I think we may have a future in snack cakes. I think our next class should be, “How to Make Your First Million by Hosting a Neighborhood Bake Sale.” But first, I'm planning my next marathon bike ride.   

©2013 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

Ode to a Bundt Pan

There was a time when I was the King of the Bundt Cakes.   My venerable Bundt pan was the very first cake pan I purchased when I was outfitting my post-college apartment.   I remember baking a luscious, slightly tipsy sherry cake for a Christmas Tea.   That impossibly tall and beautifully sculpted creation made for one festive holiday cake.  

The Bundt pan is a post-modern work of art and engineering.  The concentric design of wide and slender scallops creates a buxom mountain range of sheer confectionary delight.   Let’s be blunt about the Bundt – it requires very little talent to achieve success.   Be it a scratch cake, a boozy delight, the renowned “Tunnel of Fudge” or an otherwise pedestrian cake mix, the Bundt pan delivers perfect results every time.  

Some traditionalists scoff at the non-stick surface, but I reveled in the results.   Imagine the sheer delight hearing that inverted cake effortlessly “thump” onto the cooling rack. 

In thirty years, my Bundt pan got a lot of mileage – family dinners, church events, holiday celebrations, birthdays, and potluck suppers.   It was the perfect contribution cake - easily portable, and serving hundreds, or so it seemed.   For anyone with even a slightly unsteady hand, those lovely ridges delineated both a slim line and super-sized portion. 

Then one day, the magic died.   There was no effortless “thump” onto the cooling rack.   The cake split in two, and I had to scrape the remains from the pan.   It happened again, severely challenging my “Bundt cake for Dummies” theory.   Here’s the distressing truth – a non-stick surface does not last forever.  

It took me some time to come to grips with the fact that my beloved Bundt was just past its prime.   Finally, I came to the grim realization that the Bundt pan would have to be retired.   I pulled myself up by my bootstraps, headed for Target, and shelled out 15 bucks for a spanking new non-stick Bundt pan.   

And, for an added level of insurance, I picked up a can of Pam for Baking on the way home.   

Now, we’re in the midst of a Bundt Cake renaissance.  A blueberry buttermilk Bundt Cake was dense and delicious.

A Pumpkin Spice Cake towered at the Restoration Farm Pot Luck Dinner.  

A Blood Orange Yogurt Pound Cake released from the pan in so stealth a manner that I didn’t even hear it drop.  

I’m already debating the Christmas Cake.  What will it be?  An Eggnog Bundt Cake?   A Pumpkin Pecan Cake?  Or a Noel Fruit Cake?   Whatever the recipe, I know the curvaceous lines will never fail to impress my guests.

Thanks to my new purchase, I’ve regained my title as the King of the Bundt Cakes again.   But, I can’t seem to part with my original pan.   I’ve considered donating it to the Smithsonian, but I’m not sure their curator is on the edge of his seat awaiting my call.

But, I think my original Bundt has earned a place of honor on my family room wall.   There were an awful lot of sweet celebrations that rose from that old Bundt of mine.

©2012 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

Daffodil Cake for Easter Sunday

Happy Easter and Happy Passover to all who celebrate!  The daffodils came early this year bringing a splash of sunny yellow to our sleepy, barren landscape.  What better way to celebrate the season of new life at our Easter dinner than with a bright, golden Daffodil Cake?

Louise Volper – my favorite curator of food history over at Months of Edible Celebrations – first introduced me to the Daffodil Cake when she recently featured this classic recipe:

The recipe is a variation on Angel Food Cake and uses 12 egg whites and six egg yolks.   White and yellow batter is layered in a tube pan created the effect of daffodil petals.  It will be a sweet finish to our meal, and delicious way to welcome to the new season!

Daffodowndilly

by A.A. Milne 

She wore her yellow sun-bonnet,

She wore her greenest gown;

She turned to the south wind

And curtsied up and down.

She turned to the sunlight

And shook her yellow head,

And whispered to her neighbor:

“Winter is dead.”

Happy Spring!

©2012 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

Making Merry in the Suburbs with Sweet Potato Bourbon Cake

Merry Christmas from suburban Long Island, where the Bundt Cake is a time-honored holiday tradition. I learned to bake using a Bundt Pan and I still appreciate the form and the function. Even the most austere confection, emerges from the pan with a certain aerodynamic style. I’ve proudly owned my Bundt Pan for more than three decades, and it has serviced me well through many a holiday season.

This Sweet Potato Bourbon Cake (recipe found here) will certainly impress my family at the conclusion of Christmas dinner today – especially my brother Jim from Tennessee – as it is bathed in a merry helping of his hometown spirit, Jack Daniels.

It’s perhaps a less fussy holiday cake than previous years, but the sweet potato – a final gift from Restoration Farm - gives it a lovely orange hue, and the bourbon and butter glaze evokes rich flavors of caramel. I also like the subtle wreath of chopped pecans that encircles the crown.

However, if you prefer your Christmas holidays with a touch more bling, feast your eyes on this:

The streets of Long Island are a mecca for holiday glitter. You might find it a tad gaudy, but I think it is just an expression of the warmth that radiates from all our homes this day. A warm and Happy Christmas to all of you!

©2011 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved