All Cakes Considered - Melissa Gray [3]
It’s a big, egg-filled creation full of seasonal fruits, plus brandy and pecans, topped with a thin, marshmallow-like layer of frosting. Lots of chopping and mixing. I learned all about this gorgeous beast when I visited Mount Vernon during the holidays. In my tiny kitchen, a few miles north of Mrs. Martha’s revolutionary one, I turned on the gas, greased that tube pan, and got down to business.
When the cake arrived at All Things Considered (ATC), there was collective amazement (“For us? Really?”) followed by a chorus of “yummy” noises, rising up in full harmony from the cubicles. The cake wasn’t bad. But as I tasted it, I suspected that the icing wasn’t right. The crumb seemed way too dense and a little dry; what had I done wrong? And I wondered if almonds might have worked better than pecans with the brandy and pears.
And Then I Had a Thought: I Can Do Better.
My next thought, as I looked at my masticating colleagues, their eyes rolling back into their heads in hedonistic pleasure: these people will eat anything.
Thus Officially Began The Cake Project.
The rules were simple: a different recipe every Monday. No repeats. No box mixes. No canned frosting. No margarine, no low-fat sour cream, no faux sugar. If a cake bombed, I reworked the recipe and did a “re-cake” later in the week. Recipes came from many sources: family, neighbors, the Internet, newspapers, magazines, cookbooks, cable TV’s Food Network, and those spiral-bound collections with the sweet titles and quaint graphics that church ladies put out in every small town.
My main goal was to learn by doing, and when I was ready, I’d re-cake Martha Washington like she’d never been re-caked before.
I had intended the Cake Project to last just three months, but I kept collecting new recipes and new pans. It became six months. Then twelve. It’s now an ATC weekly tradition, to the point that if I’m out, I arrange for one of my co-workers to fill in, which they do gladly. Word has gotten out in the building, and so we’re regularly visited by colleagues from other shows and departments. Sometimes I’ll get ideas for my next baking project from interviews we do for the show, conversations we have during the week, or just someone’s simple pining for a particular flavor. I know who loves really dark chocolate and who can’t stand coconut. And when there’s a special occasion, I can now whip up an appropriately festive cake.
I love cake. But I can do without it. What I’m hooked on, and what you’ll get hooked on, too, is basking in the joy of simply giving people something delicious to look forward to. Plus, your colleagues are your best and most forgiving test kitchen. They don’t care how it looks, as long as it’s edible.
If you’re a novice baker or you need some recipes that are genuine crowd-pleasers, All Cakes Considered is for you. Actually, it’s for anyone who wants to bake for other people, but can’t find the right cookbook. Believe me, I know. When I first started the Cake Project, I found a lot of cookbooks that seemed calculated to make me feel woefully inadequate, that I had somehow failed as a woman because I’d concentrated on a career rather than mastering home economics. But I also found a few gems that really helped me create some incredible cakes, boosted my self-confidence, and fueled my interest until I eventually learned to improvise on my own. That boost is what I hope to give you, because if I can learn to bake, ANYONE can learn to bake. It’s NEVER too late to learn.
In that spirit, here’s my first bit of advice: please forget that adage “baking is a science.” Yes, yes, the ingredients do react to heat, but read “science” and you think Bunsen burners, asbestos gloves, test tubes, and goggles. Consider this: when you think of chemistry, does the category “relaxing hobby” immediately spring to mind? Chemistry for the average Jane or Joe is intimidating. Baking shouldn’t be. It’s more about using proper techniques and learning how to follow directions and also trusting your own senses.
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