Chocolate (Beet) Cake

The curiosity that is red velvet cake has been on my mind for some time now. Specifically, how did it come to be, and what, in particular, makes it red? To address the latter, beets have long ranked high on my list of suspects. I figured that the cake doesn’t find its “roots” in red food dye, so to speak. Why would anyone dump a vat of red food coloring into an otherwise perfectly fine chocolate cake?

A vat of food coloring? The New York Times ran an article a while ago with a recipe for red velvet cake. It calls for 6 Tbs of red food dye. That’s more than 1/3 cup coloring. I bet the box mix isn’t much different. I’m not against food coloring on my Christmas cookies, but this seemed ridiculous.

Refusing to succumb to modern convenience left me without red velvet cake for some time. Last week, I was browsing my Moosewood Dessert cookbook and what did I happen upon? None other than a recipe for "Red Devil Cake"… Beets! Vindication! I immediately set about collecting the ingredients for said cake.

Next problem: the ingredients include a can of beets. At Vons, my beet options were limited. I rolled the can around in my hand for a bit, checked the list of ingredients. Beets were followed by high fructose corn syrup and vinegar. "That's not the cake I want to make," I thought. Then I meandered over to the “fresh” produce section and found a small cluster of very sterile-looking overpriced limp beets. The only thing to do in this situation was to head over to Peoples, where bought delicious fresh beets, with hairy roots and dirt still clinging to them.

My excitement was mounting.

Got them home, scrubbed them clean, quartered them and put them in a pot with water to cover. Boiled them for about 45 min, until they were done, then removed them from their liquid and let them cool down to room temp, at which point I peeled them. I boiled the cooking liquid down a bit more to concentrate the color (not sure if this is necessary, but I was determined to turn chocolate cake red) and let that cool as well.

When everything was cool to touch, I pureed the beets (1 lb) in the blender with about 1/2 cup of the cooking liquid until smooth. Set that aside, it was nice and red. Beet-y. Once the beets were ready, everything else went quickly. Of course, if you use the canned beets, all you have to do is puree those beets with 1/2 c of their liquid and you're ready to go. In either case, the recipe calls for 1.25 cups of beet puree.

The cake:

Whisk 3 eggs well. Then whisk in, until very smooth:
1.5 c. sugar
1/2 c. vegetable oil
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 tsp salt
1.25 c beet puree

The following dry ingredients should be sifted together and gradually added to the wet, whisking until smooth:
1.5 c (180 g) unbleached white flour
3/4 c (65 g) non-alkalized (not dutch-processed) unsweetened cocoa powder
1/4 tsp baking soda

Pour into prepared cake pan- buttering and flouring the bottom of the pan is sufficient. If you do this all the way ‘round the edges, the cake may have trouble rising. The book says to use a 9-inch pan, I used a 7-inch pan to make it taller, but had to bake it longer. I also did a few muffins and mini-muffins for kicks. Bake at 350 until done (at least 35 min).

While the cake baked, I made the frosting:
Beat 4 egg yolks on high speed 2-3 min until they lighten. Let that sit while you make a simple syrup by heating 1/2 c sugar in 1/4 c water on the stove. Bust out your candy thermometer- the book instructs us to heat the syrup to 239F. Once you reach this magic point (I suspect this has to do with both the consistency of the syrup at this temperature) Immediately remove from heat.

While beating the egg yolks on high speed, add the syrup gradually. Beat until it's not hot to touch (5 min). Add 3/4-1 c butter a bit at a time, beating well. When finally thick and creamy, beat in 1 tsp vanilla and 2 oz melted chocolate, cooled to room temperature.

Let the cake cool and frost away…

The result?



The frosting is delicious. Not sweet in that ominous-raincloud way that is fun to look at, but can ruin part of your day. Rather, sweet in cumulous cloud sort of way, soft and fluffy.

The cake is quite good, too. Moist and chocolate-y. I can taste the beets, but no one else seemed to be able to. (The sample size included at least 10.) Tasty though it was, I was disappointed that it wasn’t red! Seriously, mine was a very dark chocolate cake.

After reading more on red velvet cake, here’s my take on the situation:
Before cocoa was processed (alkalized, raising its pH from 5 to 7ish), which gives it a milder flavor and darker color, chocolate cakes sometimes took on a reddish hue due to a reaction of the cocoa, itself an acid, with acidic batter. So, the vinegar which I eschewed in the canned beets is important. I think that to enhance the redness, I could use less cocoa and add in vinegar. Many recipes also call for buttermilk. I suspect that the moistness of the beets can take the place of the buttermilk, but the buttermilk is also acidic. I might blend the beets in 1/2 c buttermilk.

I’m sure a chocolate cake with a red hue can come from this. But I now see my initial suspicions were off… I think red food dye made its way into the cake before the beets did. Cooks were trying to amp up the red color, especially with the advent of the processed cocoa. The beets found their way in there when sugar got pricey.

This discovery that beets in cake is good brings me one step closer to my ultimate fruit-and-root cake, which will include carrots, beets, pineapple, raisins. Maybe apples and coconut if I get crazy.

Goat Tang

I'm on a goat milk kick.

A confluence of events has led to this current state. First, the obvious: goat cheese is great. Second, perhaps less-obvious, goats are great. What really got the ball rolling was my friend, Matt, who pointed me to LaLoo's goat milk ice cream. Telling me about it, he looked heaven-ward and nearly drooled while saying "It is sooooooo goooooood". Which is how I found myself purchasing a pint of Rumplemint for the bargain price of $7 at Whole Foods. It is very good... but don't expect ice cream. This is a treat in its own category, nestled somewhere between a post-dinner cheese plate and brownie a la mode. It's got a goat-cheesey tang that I detect near the back of my tongue as it melts in my mouth. I can't wait for cobblers to get in full swing. Goat milk ice cream will lend a sophistication to such homey summertime desserts.

However, at $7 per pint, goat milk ice cream is not a sustainable habit for me. So I bought a quart of goat milk (for about $3.50, we're doing better already) and did some internet research to come up with a recipe. Three egg yolks and two vanilla beans later (now the cost must be a wash), I had myself a pint or so of homemade goat milk ice cream. After ripening overnight in the freezer, it's safe to say that it's okay... not as good as LaLoo's, but it has potential. The texture is excellent. It's not overwhelmingly rich, and not at all icy. The problem with thae recipe I used is that its creator was trying desperately (it seems) to cover up the goat-y flavor, to drown it in vanilla and custardy-eggs and sugar. That needs some tinkering with before I reach bargain goat milk ice cream nirvana. Bring on the goat tang!

In the meantime, I had a few cups of leftover goat milk rattling around my fridge. Scones lept to mind. I had some candied ginger in the cabinet and a few Meyer lemons in the fridge, so I pulled out Nancy Silverton's "Pastries from the La Brea Bakery" and set to work. I browsed all the scone recipes and decided that the proportions of butter-flour-liquid she uses are all similar, regardless of the liquid. So I just substituted the goat milk for the cream.

It worked beautifully. It goes with the lemon-ginger because this is a pastry that borders on savory. Just like with the ice cream and the cheese, the scone has got a subtle tang at the finish that makes your tastebuds sort of sit up in wonder. These scones really are delightful. They're not dense or dry like the ones so often found out in the world. They are layers of flakiness that makes them seem kind of ethereal. The ginger gives a hint of spice, but nothing overwhelming. Its intensity seems to be mellowed by the surrounding pastry. The lemon zest complements both the ginger and the goat milk with a floral bouquet of refreshing citrus. If you can't find Meyer lemons, you might try a combination of lemon and orange zest, finely chopped together, or use regular lemon zest for a more lemon-y punch.

To make the scones,
First, mix together your dry ingredients:
2 1/4 c (270g) all purpose flour
1 Tablespoon baking powder
1/3 c sugar

Then cut in 1.5 sticks (6 oz) cold butter and the lemon zest. I used a pastry cutter to get it going, then rubbed the butter into the flour with my fingers until it resembled a coarse meal. You want flakes of butter to remain intact, so that they melt as little buttery pockets (like with the bobka).

Stick the bowl into the freezer and wash some dishes to distract yourself for a bit. This is kind of like pie crust- you want to keep the butter cold!

After about 10 minutes, take out the bowl, stir in the chopped candied ginger. Fashion a well in the center of the dry ingredients and pour in 1/2 c. goat milk (or cream, or buttermilk). Fold the dry ingredients into the wet ones with your hand, moving the bowl in a circular direction until the dough starts to come together. If it's not coming together, you can add a few Tbs more liquid, but don't get too crazy. Instead, have some confidence and believe that this is going to work (it will). Dump it out on work surface and fold it on itself a few times until it comes together well (see? I told you it would). Don't overwork the dough.

Roll it out or form it with your hands to be about 3/4" thick. Cut into desired shapes. Because I'm against overly large pastries, I used a 2.5" round. (Monster pastries have taken over. No one needs a 1/2-lb scone. I want a scone to accompany my morning bowl of oatmeal, not as an entire meal to itself.) Re-form any scraps by gently gathering them and then cut out more scones. Avoid re-kneading the scraps or you'll work too much flour into the dough and melt all the buttery pockets you lovingly created.

Brush the tops with a bit of milk/cream/butter/egg, as you please. Bake in the middle of the oven at 400F for about 15 min, or until they begin to brown.

Notes:
I rolled mine out thin, to about 1/4-1/2". While this made many more scones than the recipe promised (they said 8, I got at least 16), it also makes them look more like thick cookies, less like scones. So be sure to roll them thick.

What's next for goatmilk? Good question. I'm thinking of a lemon-rosemary scone, or a polenta poundcake recipe from Moosewood that I think it would be interesting to try in as well. And there will always be the ice cream...