Coconut Layer Cake with Swiss Meringue Buttercream and Dark Chocolate Ganache Filling . . .

Is it really almost September? Really? 

I guess it must be true. My kids are behaving as if they're straddling the border between two very different countries--one's called Summer, the other's called School. Nathan, my just-turned-sixteen-year old,  has been getting up early to attend marching band practice this week. It's an all-day affair, and  despite the need to haul himself out of bed at the crack of dawn, he still has that unquenchable teenage urge to stay up late every night. What's a mom to do? Remember when your kids were about three and a half and they finally gave up taking regular naps? In your chagrin you realized how helpless you were to change that. The nice quiet break, that reliable daily respite, was a thing of the past. I was reminded of this while pondering the staying-up-super-late issue. Sigh. You can lead a teenager to a comfy bed (well, you can try, anyway), but you cannot make him sleep.

Meanwhile, Charlie, my 19-year-old, is psyching up for his sophomore year in college. He's looking forward to being back in Michigan this time around. Last year, as you may recall, he ventured south to Columbus to experience life as an Ohio State buckeye. (Remember those buckeye cookie cups I made in honor of the event? Those babies were so good.) He had a busy year, without a doubt. Joined the OSU men's crew team, made lots of new friends, and generally loved the place, but ultimately decided that it wasn't the best fit for someone whose heart belongs to the mitten-shaped state, so over the summer he transferred to a university in Kalamazoo (yes, that Kalamazoo). It's pretty nice to know he's back in mitten land.

In any event, I think this Summer vs. School nether world has me feeling a little edgy and when I get edgy, I tend to bake. Yes. Bake. What a surprise.

About this recipe . . .

This sort-of-white cake recipe was adapted from this post at Whisk Kid; that's the adorable blog that started the rainbow-cake craze. I reduced, and slightly modified, the rainbow cake's base recipe (and obviously left out all food coloring!) to make just two 9" layers, adding in a little coconut milk in exchange for some of the regular milk. It's a very easy cake to put together, and this was a good opportunity--between the cake and the buttercream--to use up most of the egg whites I had in my freezer. I freeze whites in Ziploc sandwich bags, and I use black permanent marker to mark on the bags how many whites each one contains, along with the date I froze them. Fresh-frozen egg whites are still completely usable in baking even months after their freeze date. I love that!

The Swiss meringue buttercream frosting recipe that I used is from Sweetapolita, baking blog extraordinaire of the endlessly talented Rosie Alyea. I changed nothing in her recipe, except to add in a few drops of Lorann coconut oil for flavoring towards the end of the mixing process to about six cups of the total batch. Because the credit for this frosting is definitely Rosie's, I have just included a link directly to the post where that recipe appears within her blog; it's accompanied by many helpful photos and her invaluable advice (I highly recommend you check it out, especially if you are new to making meringue buttercream).  Be aware that her recipe makes about 15 cups of frosting, enough for a couple of tall layer cakes, at least. I made the whole huge batch and, in one big bowl, it was a fluffy sight to see. I froze the extra frosting for future use.

The chocolate ganache is so simple it almost doesn't require a formal recipe--two delectable ingredients are all you'll need.

Coconut Layer Cake with Swiss Meringue Buttercream and Chocolate Ganache Filling

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Yield: One two-layer 9" round cake

Ingredients for the cake layers:

1 stick and 3 tablespoons of unsalted butter, softened
1 and 1/2 cups granulated sugar
4 large egg whites
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
2 and 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 scant teaspoon salt (I used fine sea salt.)
2/3 cup milk, at room temperature (I used 2 percent.)
1/3 cup coconut milk, at room temperature (I used Thai Kitchen brand.)

To make the cake layers:

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Grease, or use baking spray on, two 9" round cake pans (I used the latter, generously). Line the bottom of the pans with rounds of parchment. Grease the parchment and flour the bottom and sides of the pan, or spray the parchment with baking spray.

In a medium size bowl, sift the flour, baking powder, and salt together. Set aside.

Stir together the milk and coconut milk in a small bowl. Set aside.

In the large bowl of your mixer, using the paddle attachment on medium-high speed, cream the butter and sugar for a few minutes, until very light in color and fluffy. Pour in the egg whites gradually, mixing until they're completely combined, and stop to scrape as needed. Mix in the vanilla.

On the lowest speed, add in the dry ingredients alternately with the milk and coconut milk, starting and ending with the dry (three portions of dry, and two portions of liquid). Beat only until the batter looks completely mixed.

Divide the batter equally into the two prepared pans, and bake in a preheated oven for about 20 to 25 minutes, or until the top of the cakes no longer look wet and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Let the cakes cool in their pans on cooling racks for about five minutes then run a thin knife or metal spatula around the edges of the cakes, and invert the cakes out of their pans and onto racks to finish cooling. Peel off the parchment, slowly and carefully, while the cakes are still warm.

To make the chocolate ganache: 

6 ounces good quality dark chocolate, chopped into small pieces
6 ounces heavy cream

Put the chopped chocolate into a bowl. In a small saucepan, gently heat the cream until it's hot but not boiling. Pour the cream into the bowl, over the chocolate. Let it sit undisturbed for a few minutes, then gently stir the cream completely into the chocolate. The ganache should look smooth and silky. Let it cool to room temperature, when it will be ready to use as a filling between the cooled cake layers. Don't cover it until it's at room temperature or cooler.

To make the Swiss meringue buttercream:
For the Swiss Meringue Buttercream recipe that I used, please visit this link at Sweetapolita for detailed step-by-step instructions in her excellent post, Swiss Meringue Buttercream Demystified. Please note that I added in several drops--to taste--of Lorann coconut oil flavoring. You could also use coconut extract/flavoring if you like, or omit the flavoring/oil altogether and just go with vanilla. Her recipe as written makes a very big batch; you will need perhaps one third of the batch to frost a standard size two-layer cake.

To assemble and frost the cake, you'll need:

2 cake layers
At least one cup of the ganache
At least five cups of the buttercream
1 and 1/2 cups of sweetened, shredded coconut

Place one cake layer upside down onto a cardboard/cake-board or onto the plate it will be served from. Spread a generous layer of room-temperature ganache on top. Add the second cake layer, placing its flattest surface facing up. Spread about a cup or so of buttercream on the top, and frost a generous layer on the sides. Because the cake will be covered with sweetened coconut, it's not really necessary to try and make the surface or sides of the cake completely smooth. To add the coconut, hold your cake, on its board/plate over a baking sheet. Gently press handfuls of coconut into the sides as you turn the cake until it's completely covered, and then sprinkle more on the top. Scoop up any coconut that falls onto the baking sheet and scatter it on as well.

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Chocolate Fudge Layer Cake with Vanilla Buttercream and Bittersweet Chocolate Ganache . . .

Last week in my Bakery Merchandising class, my fellow students and I spent hours preparing for a sale in the culinary school's retail bakery. One of my duties included piping huge swirls of fluffy vanilla buttercream onto dozens of yellow cupcakes, chilling them until firm, then suspending them upside down, one by one, and dipping them into a deep bowl of warm chocolate ganache.

At first my task progressed smoothly, but then the big white swirls started plopping off as I lifted the cold cupcakes out of the chocolate. Cursing under my breath with each failed attempt, I nervously fished out big globs of buttercream--once, twice, three times. Speed was of the essence that day and, not wanting to gum up the works, I took immediate steps to remedy the problem. Soldiering on, I carefully refrosted some of the cupcakes, chilled them longer, rewarmed the ganache, and crossed my fingers.

Meanwhile, directly across from me a much younger student, who told me she'd been working in a bakery since high school, was deftly enrobing iced layer cakes in ganache. I kept glancing over as she ladled the fluid chocolate atop each cake, letting it move languidly down the sides before picking up a small offset spatula to cover any bare spots. Her sense of calm bordered on the meditative, and her technique produced beautiful results.

It made me want to do the same thing at home. Damn the cupcakes, I said to myself, full speed ahead with a big round layer cake in my own kitchen. 

Thus was the inspiration for today's cake. (A cake that would, I believe, make a sensational Valentine's Day dessert!)

About this recipe . . . 

From the book Welcome to Junior's! Remembering Brooklyn with Recipes and Memories from its Favorite Restaurant, this fudge cake is moist and densely textured. The recipe actually produces three hefty layers, but they were each so tall and obviously substantive, I decided to save and freeze the third one. If I'd actually used all three layers the iced and coated cake would probably have been 10" tall. (If you need a truly lofty layer cake, go ahead and use all three.) The vanilla buttercream recipe is also adapted from Junior's. The decision to apply a luxurious dark-chocolate ganache over the whole thing was, as you know, quite my own.

I bought this book last April in Junior's Restaurant (the one in Times Square) during a trip to NYC, and I have to admit I'm pretty fond of it (the book, yes, and also the restaurant!). My family and I visited Junior's twice while we were there, one night just for dessert (that famous cheesecake, of course), and again on our last morning in town before heading to the airport. We'd finished breakfast and were getting up to leave when it hit me that I could not exit Manhattan without my own copy, bright stacks of which were displayed near the entrance. Along with solid recipes, this volume offers an honest and deeply affectionate homage to Brooklyn--as it was decades ago, and as it is now. It's full of historical tidbits that are pretty engrossing for anyone who's interested in the evolution of a classic, family-owned, American restaurant. I began reading it at the airport, while awaiting our flight, and hardly put it down until our plane landed back in Detroit. I used one of Junior's cute paper coasters as my bookmark.

Chocolate Fudge Layer Cake with Vanilla Buttercream 
and Bittersweet Chocolate Ganache
(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Yield: Makes one large, tall, 3-layer cake that, when iced and ganached, could probably serve 20 or more people.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter three round 9"x2" cake pans, place parchment paper circles in the bottom, and then butter the parchment (it's easiest to do this with a pastry brush, and do use unsalted butter). Place a rack in the middle of your oven.

Ingredients for the cake layers:

3 cups cake flour
1 Tbsp. baking powder
1 generous teaspoon of coarse kosher salt
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened to room temp.
1/2 cup vegetable shortening 
1 and 1/2 cups granulated sugar
3/4 cup light brown sugar, packed
7 large eggs, not cold
9 oz. bittersweet chocolate, melted and cooled to lukewarm
1 Tbsp. vanilla extract
2 and 1/4 cups milk (I used 2 percent.)

Onto parchment, or into a medium size bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, salt, and baking soda.

In the large bowl of your mixer, using the paddle attachment on high speed, cream together the butter, shortening, granulated sugar, and brown sugar. Beat for several minutes, until the mixture turns light yellow. Scrape the bowl and beaters. Again on high speed, add in the eggs one at a time, beating for a couple of minutes after each addition. Stop and scrape the bowl and beaters.

Pour in all of the chocolate and vanilla, and continue mixing on high speed for up to 20 minutes. (Yes, I said 20 minutes--that's what the instructions indicate, and that's what I did. The batter is quite fluffy when you're done with this step.) Take the bowl off of the mixer now, and gently scrape again with your spatula.

Now, sift one quarter of the dry mixture over the batter and carefully stir (as opposed to just folding, which you will be inclined to do) it in. Then pour in one third of the milk, stirring to blend. Continue in this fashion, until you've incorporated all the flour and milk, stirring well after each addition.

Portion the batter equally into the three prepared pans, and smooth it out. Gently tap each pan on your work surface to help release air bubbles. Bake the pans side by side on the middle rack, but don't let them touch each other. (The cookbook suggests delaying the baking of one layer if you don't have an oven large enough to accomplish this, rather than baking one of the layers on an upper- or lower rack.)


Bake the layers for about 30 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center of each one comes out clean, and the sides of the cakes just begin to pull away from the sides of the pan. Cool the layers on racks for 30 minutes before inverting them onto racks (and removing any parchment still stuck to them) to finish cooling.

Ingredients for Vanilla Buttercream Frosting:

2 lbs. (8 cups) of confectioners' sugar, well sifted (I always use Domino's 10x for frosting. Much less lumpy than the cheaper stuff.)
1/2 tsp. salt
1 and 1/2 cups (3 sticks) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
1/2 cup margarine or high-ratio shortening, not cold (I did not use margarine, which the original recipe indicates. Instead, I used Sweetex, which is a "high-ratio" shortening typically used by cake decorators. Trans-fat free, it adds stability to frostings--ie., helps them hold up without softening in warm temps--and doesn't lend a greasy mouth-feel the way vegetable shortening can. It also helps make frosting easier to spread. You can buy it at cake decorating supply stores, but be forewarned that it's not cheap.)
2 Tbsp. light corn syrup
1 Tbsp. and 2 tsp. vanilla extract
1 scant tsp. almond extract
1/2 cup heavy cream, not too cold

Onto a parchment sheet, or into a large bowl, sift together the confectioners' sugar and the salt, being sure to break up out any stubborn sugar lumps. In the large bowl of your electric mixer, using the paddle attachment on high speed, cream together the butter and margarine/Sweetex; beat for about three minutes, until light yellow. Still on high speed, add in the corn syrup and vanilla. Stop and scrape the beaters and bowl. Now on low speed, add the sugar in two additions, beating well after each one. Pour in the cream and blend until the frosting seems of reasonable spreading consistency; if it seems too thick, add in more cream as needed, a teaspoon or so at a time. Keep the frosting tightly covered until you're ready to use it. If you won't be using it within a couple of hours, cover and refrigerate it. 

Ingredients for the Bittersweet Chocolate Ganache:

8-10 oz. good quality dark chocolate (I tend to use Ghirardelli if I don't want to spend a fortune. If I'm flush with cash, I'm more likely to use Callebaut, and more rarely Valrhona. Bittersweet ganache works well with this cake since it balances the sweetness of the buttercream frosting.)
5-6 oz. heavy cream (The amount can vary a little bit, depending upon how soft you want your ganache to be.)
2 tsp. soft unsalted butter

Chop the chocolate into small pieces and place it in a heatproof bowl.

In a small sauce pan, heat the cream slowly until it simmers. Pour it over the chocolate, add the butter, and do not stir. Let the mixture sit undisturbed for a couple of minutes. Stir until the chocolate is obviously completely melted; don't whisk, as you don't want to add bubbles. As the ganache begins to cool, you'll be able to get an idea of its texture. If it seems it will be too thick to ladle onto your cake, stir in a little bit more warm cream, adjusting as needed. If you won't be using the ganache right away, keep it well covered in the fridge. It can be warmed up in a double boiler, or gradually in the microwave if watched very closely. 


To assemble the cake:

Place your first layer of cake on a cardboard cake-circle so you can more easily lift and move it; this will be a big help when it comes time to add the ganache coating. Frost the top of the bottom layer.  Frost the top of the middle layer. Frost the top of the top layer and the sides of the cake as smoothly as you can, ideally with an offset spatula. It doesn't matter too much if some crumbs show through in the frosting at this point since the cake will be covered in chocolate, but any obvious lumps should be smoothed out to ensure a nice finish. 

Place the cake, still on its cardboard circle, over a cake rack that's been placed atop a rimmed baking sheet. 


When your ganache is at the right consistency (it should drip easily from a ladle, like a very pourable gravy), ladle it directly onto the top center of the cake, letting it spread out and drip down the sides. The excess ganache will drip off the bottom edges of the cake onto your baking sheet (that excess can be saved and used again, assuming it doesn't contain crumbs, etc.). Use a small, metal, offset spatula to smooth out, and dab delicately at, any bare spots on the top and sides of the cake; work fairly quickly since the ganache will start to set up as it cools. Let the ganache-covered cake sit on the cooling rack over the baking sheet until the ganache seems somewhat firm. Move the cake onto its serving plate, sliding a firm metal spatula beneath it to help lift it up off the cooling rack. Before serving, add on any decorations you prefer (whipped cream swirls, piped frosting, chocolate-dipped strawberries, whatever you like).

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The Torte Report: Sacher-Torte, That Is . . .

I made a Sacher-Torte yesterday. I'd never made it before. "Oh, that's nice . . . but what exactly is Sacher-Torte anyway?" Perhaps you're asking that question . . . if so, it's a good one.

I'd never even entertained the thought of making this classic dessert until about a month ago, so I wasn't at all familiar with its particulars myself until just recently. I began reading about this Viennese cake after having chosen it as the subject for a research paper and baking assignment in my cookery class. Now, having wallowed a bit in its history, its preparation process, and quite literally in its ingredients, I can understand the magical effect it apparently had on those aristocratic Austrians who first tasted it in 1832. I can see, unequivocally, that it is not just another pastry.

It's been called the world's most famous cake, and it certainly is one of the oldest and most enduring cakes that we know of. Besides having a rich history, which I'll elaborate on a bit in a moment, it's a delightfully adult dessert. Your children won't be clamoring for pieces of this treat, and that's going to be just fine with you since it will mean more for the grown-ups. The bittersweet chocolate in the delicate batter, beautifully echoed in the silky ganache poured over the top, won't bring kids running. It's not sweet enough for them, not colorful enough, not gooey or crunchy or chewy enough. But it's perfect for you.

Only a modest slice is needed. A slice that has allowed itself to be cut so perfectly . . . a slice that nestles on its porcelain plate in a subdued fashion, patiently awaiting the soft dollop, or piped curlicue, of unsweetened whipped cream that has traditionally accompanied it for over 175 years. It was, in fact, the Sacher-Torte's very simplicity that made it so popular to begin with, and what a curious beginning it had.

It seems astounding to think that a sixteen-year old boy created such a charming and elegant dessert, but that's just what happened. Franz Sacher was an apprentice chef in the kitchen of Prince Metternich, an Austrian State Chancellor, in Vienna. The Prince was known for his demanding nature, and on this particular day he lived up to his reputation, ordering that a brand new dessert be produced under an exceptionally short deadline. Sacher's mentoring chef was not present to take on the task, so the young man did the best he could with what he had on hand. The torte he created was elegantly bare of adornment, relatively speaking, and delicious in its pure simplicity.

That was the start of something big.

Even today, the Hotel Sacher, arguably one of the world's most luxurious and historic hotels, is the designated purveyor of the torte. They've got an elaborate website devoted almost entirely to the Sacher-Torte alone! They will cheerfully ship it to you, wherever you are. Their longtime Viennese competitor, as far as the torte goes, is called Demel's. They have their own version as well, which they will tell you is just slightly different from the Hotel Sacher's. Among the lucky individuals who've tasted both versions, some choose the Hotel's while others opt for Demel's. (In fact, if I may digress for a moment, for an interesting item on Demel's new cafe in NYC, you might want to read this recent item on Tish Boyle's blog. I think it was serendipity that made the timing of her post on Demel's match so well with my need to make a Sacher-torte, and coincidence that it was her recipe I'd already picked before I even knew she'd done a post on Demel's! Her blog, Sweet Dreams, is one of my favorites.)

So valued was the Sacher-Torte to Franz's ancestors, as well as to the Viennese public, that it became the object of a 20th-century court case that dragged on for years, having to do with rights of ownership, the originality of the recipe, and so on. Some say it's the only cake that's ever been the subject of litigation. I don't know if that's true, but what a cute claim to fame -- The Cake that Went to Court!

Pretty impressive history for a little cake, hmm? I thought so too.

So, in light of all that, I was kind of hyped up to give this recipe a test-drive. I pored over quite a few recipe versions, in cookbooks and on the web, in trying to decide which one to try out. It was Tish Boyle's recipe, from The Cake Book, that I settled upon. I was hard-pressed to choose between her version and Carole Walter's from the book Great Cakes. Both were very clear and detailed, to be sure, and that's a large part of what I needed. But since I know from experience that Tish's recipes are reliably delicious . . . and I don't say that lightly . . . I picked hers. (I'm talkin' DELICIOUS delicious, you know? Mmm hmm.)

Below, then, is a slightly reworded, and slightly reorganized, version of Tish's recipe, with my usual commentary thrown in. (I made the cake twice in the same day because my first one didn't turn out as I'd liked; the second one was great and my helpful hints reflect what I focused on in order to improve the results of that second cake, so I assure you they're not gratuitous remarks!)

It's a lovely dessert, it really is . . . one that would be nice to serve to guests who appreciate confections other than rainbow-colored ice cream, Rice Krispy Treats, and Nutter Butters (though I have nothing, per se, against those whimsical items . . . to each his own . . . as long as you make mine Sacher-torte).

Sacher-Torte
(Adapted from Tish Boyle's The Cake Book. For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Preheat oven to 325 degrees; position a rack in the middle of oven. Grease the bottom and sides of a 9" springform pan. Line the bottom with a parchment paper circle; grease the paper.

For the cake:
4 oz. bittersweet chocolate , chopped (use really good chocolate; don't skimp here, bakers!)
10 Tbsp. unsalted butter, softened (not warm, but also not the least bit cold!)
1/2 cup confectioners' sugar (I think you'd better sift it!)
6 large eggs, separated, at room temperature (super important re the temp; no cold eggs!)
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1/8 tsp. salt
1/8 tsp. cream of tartar
1/2 cup superfine sugar (if I were you, I wouldn't try to substitute regular granulated sugar)
3/4 cup cake flour (I think you'd better sift this too!)

For the apricot filling:
1 cup apricot preserves
2 Tbsp. water

For the bittersweet chocolate-ganache glaze:
6 oz. of high quality bittersweet chocolate, coarsely chopped
2/3 cup heavy cream
1 tsp. vanilla extract

1) Prepare the cake first
Put the chocolate in a stainless steel bowl placed over a pot of barely simmering water. Heat the chocolate, stirring frequently, until completely melted. Remove the bowl from the pot and set it aside to cool (I think you'd better not let it cool to anything more than warmish room- temperature--seriously--or you're headed for trouble).

In the bowl of an electric mixer, using the paddle attachment, beat the butter at medium-high speed until creamy, for about 1 minute. Add in the confectioners' sugar gradually, and beat on high speed until light, for about 2 minutes. Reduce the speed to medium-low and add the egg yolks in one at a time, beating well after each addition and scraping the sides of the bowl as needed. Add the melted chocolate and the vanilla extract; mix until blended.

In a separate, clean mixer bowl (it's always at this point in a cake recipe that I thank my lucky stars I have two KitchenAid mixers--one big and one smaller), using the whisk attachment, beat the egg whites with the salt at medium speed until foamy. Add in the cream of tartar and beat at medium-high speed until the whites just begin to form soft peaks. While continuing to beat, add in the superfine sugar one tablespoon at a time, then beat on high speed until medium stiff peaks form.

Using a rubber spatula, fold half of the beaten egg whites gently into the chocolate mixture. Sift half of the flour over the batter and fold it in. Sift the remaining flour over that, and fold it in until it's almost but not completely blended. Scrape over the remaining egg whites and gently fold them in until blended. Scrape the batter into your prepared pan and smooth the top.

Bake for approximately 40 to 45 minutes (mine baked in just under 35 minutes, but that's to be expected; it's my hyperactive oven), until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool the cake completely in the pan, on a wire rack (don't even loosen the springform until the whole thing is cool--don't cheat here or you might be sorry!).


2) Prepare the filling
In a small saucepan, combine the preserves and water; cook over medium heat until the mixture begins to bubble; stir constantly! Pour the mixture through a fine sieve into a bowl, pressing it through with a rubber spatula.


3) Prepare the chocolate-ganache glaze
In the bowl of a food processor, process the chocolate until finely ground. Leave it in the bowl.

In a small saucepan, bring the cream to a boil. Remove from the heat and add the ground chocolate to the pan. Stir until the chocolate is completely melted and the glaze is smooth. Stir in the vanilla extract. Transfer the glaze to a small bowl, cover the surface with plastic wrap, and let it cool for about ten minutes; it needs to be a little warmish to pour over the cake, but not too much.

4) Assemble the cake
Run a thin knife around the edge of the cake pan to loosen it. Carefully remove the side of the pan. Invert the cake onto a cardboard cake round and gently remove the bottom of the pan, as well as the parchment circle. Using a serrated knife, or a cake leveler, cut the cake horizontally into 2 even layers. Handling it carefully so it doesn't break, set the top layer aside.

Using a pastry brush, spread one-third of the strained preserves over the bottom layer. Top with the remaining cake layer, and brush it, and the sides of the cake, with the remaining preserves. Refrigerate the cake, uncovered, while you make the chocolate glaze.

5) Glaze the cake
Put the chilled cake, still sitting on its cardboard cake round, on a wire rack set over a baking sheet.

Slowly pour the glaze onto the center (make sure it's the center!) of the cake. Use a small offset metal spatula to smooth the glaze over the top and sides of the cake, letting the excess glaze drip onto the baking sheet. (You won't have much time to do this before the glaze starts to cool, so work quickly and carefully and don't fuss with it. Just a few deliberate and gentle swipes over the top and along the sides should suffice. Trust me!)

If you like, pipe the name "Sacher" on the top. Or, if you're like me and you're hesitant to pipe it directly onto that perfectly smooth surface, make yourself a little chocolate medallion and pipe the word onto that. I took a couple tablespoons of dark chocolate that I'd melted, spread it to about the size of a large cookie on a piece of wax paper laying on a flat plate, and put that in the freezer for no more than five minutes. When it came out, I used a round scallop-edged cookie cutter to cut out a round "medallion" that I then used as the base for my writing. I wrote Sacher in cursive and put a little flourish under the word. The medallion is traditionally placed in an offset position, near the edge of the cake as pictured. That's how they do it at the Hotel Sacher at least (just check their website and you'll see what I mean). Be careful when placing the medallion on the cake, as the chocolate ganache stays soft for quite a while. Ever so delicately, set the medallion on it; don't try to push it in.

And voila! You have a splendid Sacher-torte . . . aren't you proud of yourself? I'll bet you can't wait to cut it. Take some pictures of it first, though, and don't forget to serve a little whipped cream next to each plated slice. Your fellow diners will thank you.

P.S. Oh, before I forget, I need to note that I left one component out of Tish's recipe, just in order to retain the more traditional nature of the dessert. I did not include a rum and sugar syrup that she brushes on her layers to add moisture. It sounds yummy, but I needed to stay closer to the original version. If I were to make this again, I think I might use the rum syrup, or maybe make a similar syrup with Kahlua, and then use raspberry preserves along with that on the cake instead of apricot preserves.


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Kahlua-Soaked Mocha Pound Cake Trifle . . .

Dedicated bakers must be competent and inventive salvage artists. If we weren't, we'd likely end up throwing away a considerable amount of food -- some of it perfectly edible, though less than absolutely stellar. Not every recipe goes quite according to plan, as we all know, so it's comforting when an inspired contingency plan magically presents itself.

The domestic angst that invariably accompanies the freakish result of a recipe gone wrong can really ruin a girl's afternoon, don't you think? The dessert pictured above represents triumph over adversity or, if that's too strong a statement, at least the humble attempt to salvage a pound cake that turned out to be simply too dry and, thus, not as appealing as I'd hoped. (And it was a pound cake with so much promise . . . so much promise. Sighhh.)

With or without a dry cake, though, this is a yummy dessert. I'd recommend you start with your favorite plain pound cake recipe (I recommend the recipe I used for my very first blog post; it's an excellent pound cake and I've made it many times). When the batter is ready, remove one third of it into a separate bowl. Into that one third add two ounces of melted dark chocolate, and two tablespoons of strong brewed coffee into which has been dissolved two teaspoons of instant coffee. Stir that up completely. Now, pour 2/3 of a cup of chopped dark chocolate into your white batter and stir to combine. Into the 1/3 of mocha flavored batter, stir 1/3 of a cup of chopped dark chocolate. Take your greased and floured (or baking-sprayed) pan, and spread one third of the white batter evenly in the bottom.

Cover that with all of the mocha batter. Take something skinny, like a skewer, and gently run it through the batter to introduce a nice marble effect.

Cover that with the remaining one third of white batter, smoothing it out with a spatula or the back of a large spoon.

Bake your pound cake per your recipe's instructions.

When it's done, if you like, glaze it with a shiny chocolate ganache (heat about a half cup of heavy cream, just barely to a simmer; take it off the heat and pour it into a bowl of about 4 oz. of chopped chocolate; let that sit for a minute, then stir slowly until it's all mixed--you've just made a basic ganache! Use more chocolate to make it thicker, a bit more very warm cream if it's too thick).

Enjoy that cake, but when the last few slices are still on the cake plate and it seems they are beginning to languish, confiscate them! Cut them up into bite size pieces. Take your trifle dishes and spoon some whipped cream into the bottom of each one. Layer the squares of cake onto that. Now, using a regular spoon, liberally dribble Kahlua onto all those cake pieces, whether they started out dry or not! Cover that Kahlua-soaked cake layer with more whipped cream. Repeat with cake, Kahlua, and whipped cream, and repeat again if you like. Garnish your dessert with a few dark chocolate covered espresso beans.

There. No muss, no fuss and a handsome trifle to boot. Be sure you've got a few sweet loving, coffee loving guests around to appreciate your creation. Serve immediately or refrigerate until ready to serve.



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Nothing Comes from Nothing, as the Song Says, but Something Definitely can come from Leftovers

What does one do with a little bit of this and a little bit of that after a cake or cookie project? A few tablespoons of shaved chocolate, a baggie full of chopped pecans? A scant cup of chocolate ganache that was tossed into the freezer at Christmas time? Well, sometimes odds and ends like this can contribute to a joyful amalgam. That's what happened with the cake pictured here. On a Sunday afternoon a month or two ago my husband mentioned he would like to bring a cake to work the next day for a small birthday celebration. So, being in a baking mood (which is most of the time, of course) I set to work and quickly baked a two-layer yellow butter cake from scratch. Nothing fancy or too laborious.

Things were looking a little dicey when the new frosting recipe I tried didn't come together well. Though it tasted good, it didn't look smooth and worthy of coating a special-occasion cake. So I used it only to fill the cake, not on the outside. Afterall a cake's visual appeal is often partly illusion, is it not? Next, I defrosted a container of ganache leftover from a holiday project and used that to cover the outside; perfect, I thought. But, despite ganache's natural lusciousness, more illusion was called for. Out came the chopped toasted pecans. I think these were leftover from a cookie project, also at Christmas. But just which cookie, I can no longer recall. No matter, the pecans complemented the ganache perfectly in taste and substance. For the final touch, I sprinkled the top generously with shaved/grated chocolate, a combo of dark and milk chocolate Callebaut. (This intriguingly flavored, very high-quality chocolate can be purchased in roughly hewn chunks from a local gourmet market near my house. I use it frequently for a variety of purposes when baking. It's pretty versatile and extremely handy to have around. Not really too pricey either, all in all.) And the final touch for this impromptu celebration cake? A charming little starfish crafted in a flash with a tiny bit of the dark Callebaut, melted in the microwave and poured into an inexpensive Wilton candy mold. Voila! An easy and relatively quick cake worthy of an office celebration.

So, if anyone ever tells you there is no room for improvisation or creativity in baking just tell them to back off, because we all know that's simply not true!