Chasing a Coconut Cake

February 13th, 2011  |  38 Comments

Hundreds of you have now downloaded the macaron primer, and I thank you! The response has been nothing short of awesome. A few of you even dove right in and made some, and have reported that you’ve achieved the “impossible”. You slam-dunked that macaron!

The fact that you visit this blog and have enough faith to try out the recipes means everything to me. We’re becoming quite the baking circle, and I love hearing your thoughts and feedback. It makes baking and blogging so much more fun. I’m honored that you’re baking with me.

If you still haven’t downloaded the macaron primer, make your way over to this post. It’s totally free!

Speaking of you guys, a few months ago, a reader named Jackie sent me an email looking for coconut cake. Here is a clip in her own words:

“I was looking at your coconut cookie recipe, and a coconut cake recipe popped in my head. I’m looking for a recipe that has a lot of coconut flavor.”

Hmmm. A coconutty coconut cake. Shouldn’t be so hard, right? Off I went, hunting for coconut cake recipes. I saw many different approaches to it. Some were mere butter cakes with plain frosting and grated coconut sprinkled on top. A ghost of a coconut cake, if you ask me, not worthy of the title.

Some were dense, like pound cakes, while others were light, like angel food cakes. Some had cream cheese frosting, while others were coated with meringue. Inexplicably, I spied versions with coconut flavors in either just the cake part or just the frosting part. That’s like half a handshake! It doesn’t make sense.

Why go subtle on coconut flavor? When have you ever thought, “My word, this is good, but wouldn’t it be better if I could hardly taste the coconut?”

I wanted balls-to-the-wall coconut. Clock-me-on-the-head coconut. Dropped-in-a-piña-colada coconut. This meant some form of coconut had to appear in every nook and cranny of the cake.

When I spotted Alton Brown’s version, I slammed a triumphant fist on the table. It looked just right. There was coconut extract, coconut milk, and coconut cream in the cake batter. It was a coconut steam bath. And it’s that little bitty teaspoon of extract that would lend a powerhouse of flavor. Extracts do wonders to perfume a cake through and through.

Only….only…he made all those things from scratch. The extract came from fresh coconut (that he cracked open, grated and soaked in liquor for days), and so did the coconut milk and cream. Ol’ Alton hoped you’d pre-plan this a week in advance, and then had a whole Sunday to spare.

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Master the French Macaron

January 26th, 2011  |  265 Comments

Ahh, the macaron. So beautiful, and fragile, like a Faberge Egg. And so elusive, it is.

Or is it?

The day I learned how to make them, the chef gave me a demonstration, and then I made them on my own. They came out well. No drama. And since they were on our daily petit fours plate, I had to make them every day. Sometimes it was pouring rain outside, and the kitchen was swamp-humid. Sometimes it was the thick of summer, and the temperatures rivaled Death Valley. But still, I made them. Once in a while they didn’t work, but most of the time they did. And on those few occasions they didn’t behave, I wasn’t phased. I just made them again.

For me, the trick to it all was that no one told me how impossible they were, how one false breath could mean failure — one extra stroke of the spatula, and you might as well pack it in. To me, it was just another recipe, and I didn’t have any baggage about it before I even broke out the almond flour. No one psyched me out.

Now, as I read all the talk around the blogosphere, I think that’s exactly what’s happening. The macaron fear has spread far and wide. And there’s no reason for it. Especially when the base recipe has just 4 ingredients. You sift the dry stuff, whip a few egg whites, fold it all together, and pipe it on a sheet tray.

I really, really want everyone to master the macaron, to be swimming in as many as they want. Once you understand the basic recipe, you can modify it to any flavor you can think of. All it takes is a batch or two of practice, and then it’s locked in forever. Like riding a bicycle.

So I started working on a post. I was testing, then testing some more. Before I knew it, the whole project grew, becoming more than just a quickie tutorial. I wanted to include as much helpful stuff as possible  — the basic recipe, some troubleshooting tips, how to make flavor variations, and a few fillings to get started. It became longer — a primer, of sorts. And so I put it all together into one fat pdf format that you can download, totally FREE. I hope you find it helpful.


In Master the Macaron, I cover:

  • The almond macaron — the master recipe
  • Vanilla Buttercream Filling for the Almond Macaron
  • Troubleshooting
  • Chocolate Macaron with Chocolate Ganache Filling
  • Coffee Macaron with Nutella Filling
  • Lemon Macaron with Lemon Curd Filling
  • Coconut Macaron with White Chocolate Raspberry Filling

I hope you enjoy this primer, and have success with your macaron-making. Please let me know what you think. We’d even love to see some pictures if you give it a go. And pass it on!

Get your FREE copy of Master the Macaron:

Read more and see it come together...


Extra yolks? Extra whites?

January 4th, 2011  |  40 Comments

Oh, egg whites, how you taunt me.

And egg yolks, you stare back at me with your beady yellowness every time I open the fridge.

All because I dared make some desserts that didn’t include one of you. And now you’re left over, like an unwanted stray, and I don’t have the heart to toss you out.

Even with the best of intentions, even when I plan on using you up, I sometimes don’t get around to you soon enough. You get your revenge by going bad. I’m forced to sacrifice you to the trash, and that’s no good for either of us.

Well, those days are over, oh egg parts. Not since I learned you can be frozen has a single one gotten away. Yep, frozen.

Yolks, you try to resist. You don’t freeze quite as well as the whites. You become a bit gelatinous when frozen. In order to avoid that, I first add a pinch of salt, about 1/8 teaspoon for every 4 yolks, scramble you up, and freeze. That helps alleviate the problem.

When I’m ready to use you in, say, this lemon curd, or this ginger ice cream, I simply defrost your chilly selves and proceed with the recipe as written. Can you tell this curd was made with frozen yolks? I can’t.

Whites, you are much less tempermental.

All I have to do is wrap the bowl with plastic. Then with a Sharpie, I mark how many specimens are in the midst before freezing.

Next time I make a meringue or a sponge, you’re ready to go as soon as you thaw. The meringue whips up just as billowy as your fresh counterpart.

Yolks and whites, you may get separated from each other, but never will you get separated from me.

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White chocolate raspberry tart and how I pissed off the whole town

December 28th, 2010  |  29 Comments

My office is closed between Christmas and New Year’s. I get to stay home. And even if it wasn’t closed I would still get to stay home, because our area got blasted with a Siberian level heap of snow.

Since we are former city-dwellers and we don’t have a full grasp of mother nature’s wrath, we were caught unprepared. No snow blower, no sidewalk salt. Just a shovel left behind by the former homeowner, lucky for us. Scott and I took shifts with this lone shovel, getting a workout like no gym could inflict, then waited for the snow plows to clear the roads so we could get much needed supplies. Like coffee. And McDonald’s. Because these are the things I crave when I know I can’t have them.

Anyway, I’ve been wanting to watch the 80s version of Wall Street. And Hot Tub Time Machine. And lay around like I had the flu, but without the flu.

On the second morning, it looked like people were on the go, and there was some life in the air. I decided to risk a trip out to assess the conditions and get some much needed salt. And coffee, And McDonald’s. And while I was at it, some baking stuff. Priorities, people!

Guess I wasn’t the only one looking for salt, since the whole town was out. I drove home.

Not 50 feet from the driveway, the car gave up. I hit the gas and the wheels spun. I tried backing up, and the wheels spun some more. I was right in the middle of the street. Panic set in.

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Pastry technique: Make your own almond flour

December 17th, 2010  |  81 Comments

Right now I’m hard at work on a big, comprehensive French Macaron tutorial. It will be ready in a week or two, so I hope you look out for it.

Meanwhile, I’m going through almond flour as if I had a silo of it in the backyard. Somehow the grocery powers-that-be decided that us regular, hard-working folk will be charged a premium, nearly a mortgage payment, for packaged ground almonds. I guess the simple act of grinding almonds makes them worth twice as much? I’m staging a revolt.

Read more and see it come together...


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