Sometimes I just don’t know when to call it good and leave well enough alone. Many artists fight an internal battle of knowing exactly when to put down the dang paint brush, pronounce the work finished, and walk away. I consider myself a culinary artist of sorts, so I can relate.
The struggle against overdoing something is real, but that’s true in all facets of life, too.
But today I’m talking about food, and more specifically the heart-shaped flowerless chocolate cakes I made for a recent Galentine’s Day gathering. No brag, but my flourless chocolate cake is near perfection just the way it is. It ought to be. It’s a recipe I first tasted at Cafe Maddalena in Dunsmuir many moons and at least one marriage ago. Maddalena served her flourless chocolate cake in an understated triangular slice, dusted with powdered sugar, topped with whipped cream.
It was so delicious that as were were leaving the restaurant I raved to Maddalena about the cake and asked how she made it. As she continued cooking (the open kitchen exposes diners to flames, sizzles, chef talk and all, which I LOVE) she quickly rattled off ingredients, quantities and instructions. I thanked her, raced to the car, grabbed a piece of paper from a memo pad (remember those?) and hurriedly scribbled down everything Maddalena had said.
The original note written outside Cafe Maddalena, circa 1997.
The only change I made was I add two teaspoons of vanilla, because I think most desserts are better with vanilla. Also, I’ve never had my flourless chocolate cakes bake for an hour and a half; more like 45 minutes. It depends upon the size of the pans, too.
So decided to make Maddalena’s Flourless Chocolate Cake for the Galentine’s Day event. Naturally, I could have made the cake simple, like Maddalena’s, baked in a round cake pan. But I have this six-section heart-shaped pan, and it’s pretty much a once-a-year deal, so I decided to use it.
Once the cakes were baked, they looked kind of lackluster, so I added small dollops of chopped cherries in a thin syrup in the indentation of each cake, just for some flavor and color pizzaz, with a nod to a Black Forest Cake.
I wasn’t impressed. Something seemed off, so I decided they needed some kind of frosting. That’s when I remembered that I’ve always wanted to attempt a mirror glaze on a cake, and gosh, if not now, when? If you’ve not seen a mirror glaze, they are so fancy, shiny and glossy that they almost look like, well, a mirror. I found a recipe, which I won’t share today, because I’ll leave that to another day after I’ve tried it again, and when I have something I’m proud of to show you. Let me just say that mirror glazes are more difficult than I’d imagined. Spoiler alert: Gelatin is the magic-maker. But one important factor is that to achieve that perfect mirror finish, the cake must be smooth as glass, or the glaze will show every single imperfection, like cellulite beneath white leggings. (Which reminds me of my personal fashion credo: Just because something fits, doesn’t mean you should wear it.)
My cakes had myriad challenges to overcome. I had those unfortunate blobs of chopped cherries on top (to which I felt committed), plus, the heart-shaped pans were fluted on the sides. No problem. I whipped up a ganache buttercream to smooth over each heart, which should have been easy, were it not for those chopped cherries. I carefully covered the cherries, which did leave a bit of a moist puddle on top.
Screw it. Good enough.
Finally, I was ready to tackle the two-hour mirror glaze process, much of which involves straining and cooling the glaze to the exactly right pouring temperature (86 degrees).
I poured a few layers, but with each new later of glaze, the hearts’ definitions became less discernable, to the point where the hearts resembled more like something found fresh and steamy in the middle of a pasture, than something birthed from a specialty Wilton cake pan.
That wouldn’t do. I then remembered that I’d purchased these intriguing small spray bottles at the Dollar Tree (of all places!) of edible glitter dust in gold, pink and blue, so I gave each heart a few spritzes of those colors. When I stepped back to admire my handiwork, clearly, the hearts looked bruised, and also like something that could only be addressed by a dermatologist.
By that point, there was no going back. I’d created six homely little cakes that looked more like fists than hearts, but ugly as they were, I knew they would taste fantastic. But that was cold comfort, because, as every TV cooking show chef likes to say, we eat with our eyes first. So unless I was serving blind women, these cakes needed major intervention.
I’m no quitter, and all was not lost, because I had one more trick up my sleeve: chocolate leaves, which could cover a multitude of sins. As a contrast to the lumpy chocolate mirror glaze, I selected white chocolate. I’ve made hundreds of chocolate leaves in my lifetime, and they always wow people because they look just like leaves, and bonus prize, they’re edible! Win win! They’re easy, too: Melt any kind of chocolate, spread it on the underside of a firm citrus leaf , then let it harden and peel off the leaf whenever you’re ready.
Not so fast, though, Doni. Hey, what about that edible Dollar Tree glitter dust spray? What if I first sprayed some on the leaves, and then spread the white chocolate over the glitter dust? Oh my gosh! That would be stunning.
Perhaps “stunning” was an overstatement. “Sickly” was more like it. Oh well. I was in too deep by then. I’d sprayed the undersides of the leaves, and had used all the white chocolate. It would be whatever it would be.
The shiny chocolate little cake (full disclosure, trimmed to look more heart-like than liver-like) awaits the application of the cosmetic white chocolate leaves.
Now is a good time for me to attempt to garner sympathy as I explain this fact: photographing food is its own art form. It’s hard! Even the most delicious soups can look like slop, and in the case of the heart cakes, they were so reflective that the light bounced off like crazy. I couldn’t wait to pop those cosmetic chocolate leaves on top and be done with them.
In retrospect, I shouldn’t have chosen a silver plate, because, you know, more reflection. And the gold dust on the white chocolate looked like rust schmear.
I tried photographing the leaf-covered heart from different angles, but to no avail. Sometimes, pictures just don’t lie. Looking at the photo with the pair of leaves, they look like some kind of a distress symbol, which would be just about right. That’s when I brought in the big guns: A heavy-handed dusting of powdered sugar. It helped. A little.
Alas, I hope what I lack in beautiful food for you today I can offer redemption with some great recipes. Below you’ll find Maddalena’s Flourless Chocolate Cake recipe. Pace yourself, and read the directions carefully to ensure you’re setting aside all the different ingredients as directed, rather than dumping everything in at once.
And please, allow me to be your culinary cautionary tale: Don’t go crazy. Go simple. Bake the cake in a round pan, then dust it with powdered sugar and serve it at room temperature with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream. If it’s good enough for Maddalena, it’s good enough for us.
Also, I present for you today a recipe to make your very own almond paste, which is usually very expensive to purchase. One of the great things about almond paste is not only is it delicious, but sometimes it can serve as a substitute for wheat flour, such as in the Flourless Chocolate Cake recipe — which also relies heavily upon the softly-peaked beaten egg whites — which is appreciated by those who can’t tolerate wheat products.
There are so many things you can make with almond paste, like bear claws, and apricot tarts, and well, just Google: “Recipes that use almond paste” and you’ll be richly rewarded with almond paste recipes galore. Or, you can make up your own, as I did with this pear tart.
Doni’s simple pear tart:. Line a tart pan with pie crust, leaving a wide lip that hangs over. Beat about 8 ounces of room-temp almond paste with an egg, about 1/3 cup of cream, 1 teaspoon of vanilla, and powdered sugar to taste (about 1/2 cup). Pour mixture into the unbaked pie crust. Cover with canned sliced pears. (It’s a very Frenchy thing to do.) Fold over the overhanging pie dough and decorate the top as you wish. Brush with a beaten egg thinned with cream and a little sugar. Bake at 375 degrees on a rack low in the oven until it’s golden brown. Serve with vanilla ice cream.
One final word about almond paste: some people confuse marzipan with almond paste, which is understandable because they contain similar ingredients. Almond paste is used primarily in baking, and contains more almond flour, while marzipan is used mainly in sculpting and for decorations, and contains more sugar.
Fun fact: My artist twin once created an entire marzipan fruit bowl filled with teeny cherries, bananas and apples, all of which fit in the palm of her hand.
Oh, in case you’re wondering how my heart-shaped Flourless Chocolate Cakes turned out in the end, I have to say that they turned out beautifully (hidden), tucked inside white bakery boxes, a pretty bow, adorned with a small pink rose.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
Maddalena’s Flourless Chocolate Cake
12 ounces melted chocolate
8 ounces room-temperature butter
1 3/4 cups sugar
8 ounces room-temperature almond paste (see recipe, below)
6 eggs, separated
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons vanilla
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter and flour a 9-inch cake pan.
Melt chocolate and set aside. Separate yolks from the whites. Set both aside.
Beat butter and sugar until pale and creamy. Add almond paste and salt to the creamed mixture and beat until smooth and fully incorporated. On low speed, add the yolks one at a time to the creamed mixture. Slowly blend in the melted chocolate, followed by the vanilla. Turn off mixer.
Meanwhile, in another bowl whip the egg whites until soft white peaks form. (Don’t overbeat or they’ll become stiff, dry and unable to fold into the batter.)
Finally, gently fold the soft, fluffy egg whites into the creamed mixture until the batter is one unified color. Pour mixture into pan and bake until a toothpick inserted into the cake is not wet, but has a few crumbs attached. Don’t overbake. It’s OK if there are some crumbs on the toothpick; just no wet batter.
After 5 minutes invert cake onto a baking rack and let cool. Dust with powdered sugar. Serve at room temperature with whipped cream or ice cream.
DIY Almond Paste
2 1/3 cups finely ground almond flour
1 1/2 cups powdered sugar
White only from 1 large egg
2 teaspoons almond extract
1/4 teaspoon salt
Pulse all ingredients in a food processor with an S blade until combined. (Or, use a hand mixer, standing mixer, or even your hands. Don’t use a blender.) It comes together quickly. If the mixture is too sticky add some more powdered sugar.
Form the paste into a log (think Play-Doh consistency) and chill until ready to use, for up to two weeks. It can be frozen for up to 6 months.
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