Recently, we went back for another dinner at Mom's. Not a holiday meal, so no celebratory overtones. The parent's household consists of Mom and Pop and my brother with wife and kids. They also have a housekeeper who started with them recently.
'Ha,' I thought, 'I will bake a coffee chiffon cake since coffee is so popular, and give them no choices!'
"But Mommy," said my daughter, "I thought a coffee cake didn't have coffee in it!" So there were a few explanations about a coffee cake with coffee in it versus a coffee cake to have with coffee. Why is life so complicated?
Rob brewed me an extra strong cup of coffee which I left to cool. I like my eggs to come to room temperature if possible. If I am in a rush, I put them in a bowl of warm water, straight from the fridge.
One thing I find invaluable when separating a large number of eggs is my trusty egg separator. I bought it when I was a teenager and rescued it back from my mother long after I married. Since I like to use those omega 3 eggs, the shells are very brittle and the shards are very sharp, easily poking through the yolk sack and breaking it; a problem when you are trying to get as much white to separate so you get a fluffy, tall cake.
The other device I love so much is my Kitchen Aid stand mixer. The egg whites really do beat up higher than with the hand held mixer. And I can leave it alone to do the job while I attend to the yolk batter. This speeds up chiffon cake making incredibly for me, and I'm pretty fast.
The most important instruction to follow is the sifting of the flour. I prefer using cake flour and I sift it first with a sieve, and then measure it. I've tried all kinds of cake sifters, and the sieve does a better job. If I am feeling very energetic, I will sift the flour, sugar and baking powder again after I've measured the ingredients. Sometimes I will sift it a third time, especially if I have to make do with all purpose flour.
All the cookbooks talk about folding technique. For me, folding the batter with the egg whites is much easier if the bowl is closer to waist level, not at the countertop. If there is no alternative, I will put the bowl in the sink. Otherwise, one tends to stir as the arm gets tired when crooked at an odd angle because the bowl is too high. The one advantage of the countertop is that if I fold the batter until I feel like my arm will fall off, it's about the right amount of mixing. At a lower height, I actually have to look at the batter more carefully to see if it's properly integrated.
The oven should be well and truly preheated. Turn it on at least a half hour beforehand if possible. I also use the rack which is a touch closer to the bottom of the oven than the one which is right in the middle of the oven. This makes sense since the cake is so tall that it's really on the high side if you put the bottom of the pan at the centre. And that rule about not opening the oven door until the cake is almost done is also a good one to follow. Oh, and turning the cake upside down when it comes out.
In the end, a chiffon cake is mostly following the rules. It's one of those cakes which simply work best if you don't cut too many corners and do it classically. It's surprisingly easy to make once you realize that's all you have to do: follow the instructions.
Well the chiffon cake won them over. Everyone liked it. As successive slices wore away the upstanding cake, it looked more tired and stooped. "I could eat this cake all night!" declared the housekeeper. She pinched a small piece from the cake and it quivered. She reached over and pinched it again. The cake shook hard. She reached again...
I couldn't watch. I had to leave. I don't know what happened to the cake remains - surely, she eventually put it out of its misery. The sheer violence of the housekeeper's thumb and forefinger, grasping at that tender, fluffy tower as it swayed to her torture caused my heart to palpitate. Why didn't the woman simply cut herself a slice and put it on a plate?
Well, perhaps I will go back to trifles for the next holiday. There is nothing pitiful about trifle remains. They scream, "Eat me!" And so we do.
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