The Sugar Bar

Think it’s chocolate? Think again. Look harder. It’s actually a dark shade of purple.

What’s that? Yea I know. Don’t you raise your eyebrows at me! I haven’t gotten over that purple phase yet. Seriously, I’m gaga-fied by it. Utterly completely totally besotted with the shade and the vegetable that can produce such a hue by very natural and earthy means – the purple sweet spud aka purple yams aka beni imo 紫芋 aka okinawan purple sweet potatoes. Cheshire cat grin.

A dear friend of mine from Chiba felt some of my pain about a month or so ago when I struggled to find a cheap variety of these spuds here. I ranted so much I reckon I might have burnt her ears right off or if I exaggerate a little less, probably melted them down. She, being the nice girl that she always is (bless her heart), sent me 400g of beni imo fumatsu 紅芋粉末 (and via express EMS mail at that!). If you understand the matcha concept, you’ll get this. It’s simply purple sweet potatoes roasted and then ground into a fine powder or funmatsu. I believe there are grades to this just as matcha does and that will determine the vividness of colour of the powder and its cooked outcome. Mine was one of a dark mauve shade in its raw state and so the colour wasn’t as vivid as I hoped it would be. Neither did it look as stunning as Junko Fukuda’s in her cookbook but hey, I’m not complaining because it was still visibly purple!

This pound cake I thought was pretty snaz, not just in terms of colour, but in terms of flavour. The use of goma dare, commonly used over tofu salad as a dressing, was interesting. I quite worried that this cake would be way too savoury and it smelt like it would be as I was mixing everything up. I have a penchant for using exotic ingredients whenever I can because it just feels a little more risky and exciting. I know Mama Diva will dislike this right away because it probably tastes way too weird and non-traditional for her. It definitely needs some getting used to but the deep and rich roasted flavours (of white sesame seeds more so than sweet potatoes) really come through in this pound cake. A dark yet earthy and vegetal fragrance from the beni imo is also quite evident. The scent of beni imo powder strangely reminds me of dark cocoa (the texture and fluffy ‘jumpy’ nature of the powder itself resembles cocoa powder too!) and the altogether nutty creamy taste and textures from the white sesame sauce with roasted nuts make it quite an appetite-reviving bit of cake.

Yet again I’ve gone purple and although this is one simple loaf cake, it contains just an edge of the weird and wonderful. An interesting flavour combination and a bit of an eye-opener but rather delicious. And GARH it sure did take away from the frustration I was experiencing due to a college fudge up this morning. I’ve never looked upon my electric mixer and pantry cupboard more affectionately than I did today. What stress-relievers they are. Bake, and let’s hope for a better day.

Note: This cake DOES NOT MARBLE ON ITS OWN like other marble cake recipes. The two separate batters must be added together, given one quick circular stir then transferred to your greased loaf tin. The batter isn’t as agile or active as we’d expect it to be. Between soymilk and firm tofu, this would be the latter.

Beni Imo & Sesame Marble Pound Cake 紫芋芝麻大理石磅蛋糕
(Recipe from 我♥和風洋菓子 – Japanese Title: 和スイーツの本 by 福田淳子 Junko Fukuda )
Ingredients

60g unsalted butter, softened
40g white sesame sauce (goma dare)
50g caster sugar
2 eggs yolks
1 tbs vanilla extract
1 tbs milk

2 egg whites
50g caster sugar

10g cake flour, sifted
50g beni imo powder

50g cake flour, sifted
black & white sesame seeds, for garnishing

Preheat oven to 170d Celsius. Grease and flour a loaf tin.

In a large bowl, beat softened butter for about a minute. Add white sesame sauce (goma dare) and 50g caster sugar. Beat until it is creamy and lightens in colour.

Add an egg yolk one at a time, beating in between. Add vanilla and mix. Split the batter into 2 parts and add 1 tbs milk to one part of it. Mix to combine.

In a small bowl, combine 10g sifted cake flour with beni imo powder. Set aside.

Prepare egg whites: Using an electric mixer, beat egg whites until it starts to froth. Add half the amount of sugar (25g) and beat for a bit more. Add the rest of the sugar when it starts to whiten and continue to beat until egg whites begin to form soft glossy peaks.

Add 1/4 of beaten egg whites to the batter with milk. Whisk to combine. Add half of the beni imo flour mix and beat. Then add another 1/4 of egg whites to the mix and whisk. Finally, add the rest of the beni imo mix and whisk to combine.

In the bowl containing the batter without milk, do the same. Add 1/4 of egg whites to it and whisk. Then add 25g cake flour and whisk. Add the final 1/4 of egg whites, whisk followed by the remaining 25g cake flour.

Add this onto the beni imo batter. Using a spatula, very gently give it ONE circular stir to mix (and create that marbling). Pour into your prepared tin, smoothen the surface and place in preheated oven to bake for 35mins. Remove from oven thereafter when cooked, or when a skewer inserted comes out clean, and leave it to cool in the tin completely.

Christmas kind of came and went real quick this year. The big ol’ traditional feast cook-up this time round was a little more stressful. For what reason I was so frazzled I know not, but in my book, the means justifies the end. And if the end is the pudding, then whatever comes before that is allowed to go by in a blur. I’d like to think I save my best card for last and I play that card best in sweet treats rather than the savoury. Just for the record, I can whip up a mean Christmas roast and yorkshire puddings. I just take more joy in beating up eggs, butter and flour.

Cherries mean big Christmas business for me. Of course, there’s the whole medley of dried fruit soaked in rum or brandy overnight and made into the usual fruit cake shebang schmang but sometimes that all gets a bit boring. Christmas pudding is a tad bit too stodgy for my liking and my all-time favourite bread and butter pudding probably would not have gone down well either with a weight-conscious family. The current monsoon season we’re experiencing has also resulted in extreme levels of humidity. The air is so thick its almost chewable! We’re pretty much live bread and butter puddings ourselves: thick, pneumatic, sticky piles of flesh which don’t sit too well in a steamy bubble of heat. Ew (in relation to ourselves and our general appearance). Delicious (this time, I refer to bread and butter pudding), but really just too hot to handle in this heat.

Something (deceivingly) light, something flavoursome and still a sweet round-off worth your calories was what I wanted. That of course is when Nigella comes in handy (not so much her love for big knobs, oh I meant slabs, of butter). Flipping through a cookbook of hers I received from girlfriends on my 21st, the page which had a recipe sporting dark natural-coloured juicy fat sweet cherries got me at first sight. Hello, goosebumps. And so my Christmas sweet was sorted. Just like that. You’d say this was more of an afternoon teacake and yes it is, but that works since the leftovers get gobbled up for breakfast and lunch on Boxing Day.

I have swapped a few ingredients (natural-coloured glacé cherries and almond essence – they’re not well-liked by the family) and added a granola crust just to pretty up the surface of the cake. Plus, I’ve always loved that gorgeous golden brown hue, the texture and rustic feel granola can give to a loaf cake. Can’t resist a bit of granola any day! And it seems neither can the hungry fools around the Christmas dinner table.

Hope everyone had a joyous holiday season. We’re stuffed Tellytubbies at the moment with barely enough time to recover before the Lunar New Year hits us right smack between the eyes. Oh geez. Time to brace ourselves.

Cherry Almond Loaf Cake
Recipe adapted from Nigella’s How to be a Domestic Goddess
Ingredients

200g dark pitted cherries
250g self-raising flour, sifted
225g unsalted butter, softened
175g caster sugar
3 large free-range eggs
2 drops of pure vanilla extract
100g ground almonds
6 tbs milk
about 1/4 cup mixed granola, for crust (optional)

Preheat oven to 170d Celsius. Grease and flour a long loaf tin.

Drain the juice of the pitted cherries in a sieve, halve them and pat dry a little with a kitchen paper towl. Toss them in some flour and shake well to get rid of the excess.

In a large bowl, cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating in between each addition. Add the vanilla, beat.

Gently fold in the flour and ground almonds. Fold in the cherries and milk. You will get a thick and heavy batter. Spoon this into the prepared loaf tin and using a rubber spatula, even out the surface. Sprinkle the granola (use your favourite brand of granola, mine’s Dorsets Cereals, or homemade granola) over the surface and gently pat down into an even layer to secure the bits of oats, nuts, etc. to bake in the cake.

Bake loaf for 45mins-1 hr or until a skewer inserted comes out clean. Mine took 1hr 5mins to cook perfectly.

When it is cooked, remove from the oven and let cook in its tin on a wire rack until completely cooled.

The first ever homebaked cake I received (birthday cakes not counted) was a butter pound cake when I was in primary school. Right, I ain’t being totally honest with you because I so didn’t receive it. Out of greed, I paid a classmate just under ten bucks for the ingredients and her time in the kitchen to prepare one just for me. (Would you believe it if I told you I was a bit of a school bully in kindergarten? I bullied boys, never girls mind you) At that time, we didn’t own an oven, only a hand-me-down Japanese microwave. I was young and didn’t know how to bake then. Cakes weren’t a common thing for us in my house either. In fact, they were equivalent to rare yeti sightings. Far, few, and almost…well, impossible to spot! We were only allowed them on birthdays when our parents would splurge a little on a ridiculously over-decorated and over-iced cake. It didn’t matter that the cake was often more cream than sponge, mightily topped with cloyingly sweet jelly pops – a dentist’s nightmare. Nonetheless, that to us was the most special, most beautiful most wonderful cake in the world. Of course, in my childish understanding, it almost felt like a round structure of cream, sugar dusting and sponge was the utmost expression of my parents’ love for me. I know better now that’s for sure but it isn’t strange to think that a cake could stand for so much. It’s symbolic power is immense, especially to a child with a wonderfully innocent and simplistic mind.

To slice your own over-embellished birthday cake with Mama’s hand to guide you was such a precious feeling. I can feel a sigh of nostalgia just bubbling up at the back of my throat. I can’t quite forget the taste of those cakes of my childhood. And I can’t forget the taste of that beautifully buttery, dense and vanilla-ry pound cake I received back in primary school. You know how all things rustic and homemade get to me.

The memory of this cake, the demand-and-supply nature of our friendship (between that girl baker and I), the simplicity of a butter cake are all things engraved deep in my mind, heart and tastebuds. A cake of simply and few ingredients; it reminded me of other equally simple and basic cakes such as yellow cake, a butter cake, a pound cake, a British madeira, a plain chiffon, a Chinese steamed cake. They are different types of cake but essentially still cake! And cakes very accessible to everyone because of their basic and non-exotic components. Think of them as essential as a cream cardigan. A wardrobe necessity, even more so than the LBD and ever so hard to fault. And then it occurred to me how I loved them all, whatever the rendition of cake, as much as I love different types of photographs such as the beautifully styled ones, the soft-focused ones channelling the aesthetics of vintage photos and of course, the well-lighted macro shots of food (as you can see I’ve cheesily tried to achieve the above ‘types’ in this post’s photographs).

I love the fanciful cakes available in patisseries, the delicately decorated and styled birthday cakes, and sure enough, things like macarons and whoopie pies, etc. BUT. My point is, there’s something mysteriously heartwarming and humble about a slice of cake produced from just a mere few ingredients. And to pay homage to how the combination of few ingredients can produce something quite so delightful and life-changing is this post on Kasutera, a cake that oh-my-dear doesn’t even use butter!

Kasutera, a Japanese honey cake otherwise known as Castella in English, is a cake derived from the Portuguese pao de Castela. I know not much about the history of this cake except that it is now a Nagasaki specialty and often found in wagashi stores or in the sweets section of Japanese grocery stores. It’s light but its flavour is unique, fragrant and very likeable, thanks to the honey syrup it incorporates.

I’ve been terribly eager to give this recipe a go. It was well-received and according to my parents who sat about tasting them forever, kasutera tastes like a non-butter cake of their childhood! I felt very flattered and quite pleased to have brought a slice of their good ol’ days on a plate to savour. But also rather envious of the variety of sweet treats they might have experienced back in them days.

This cake is simply delicious despite being uncomplex. It is light as cotton fluff and with zero butter in the mixture, feels slightly less decadent and a little more ‘healthy’ to eat. Unfortunately, when removed from the oven with a plate left to flatten the top for 5 minutes, one shouldn’t leave it to cool too long in the cake tin. Once the cake is no longer oven-hot but warm enough to handle, remove from cake tin and let it stand on a wire rack to cool. The consequences of doing otherwise (as mine is proof of that) is a cake that is soggy, a little sunken and difficult to slice. Shame on me for trying to do more than two things at once!

I will be making this again and again until I get it right. Minimal ingredients, batter tastes amazing no matter what and quick to whip up. There’s no excuse to say no to round II. Practice makes perfect anyway!

Kasutera カステラ
(Recipe from 我♥和菓子：57 wagashi recipes – Japanese Title: かんたん！和菓子レシピ by 山崎彩 Aya Yamazaki )
Ingredients

2 eggs, at room temperature
80g caster sugar
15g raw honey
10ml water
60g cake flour
15g coarse brown sugar

Line the bottom and sides of a small loaf tin with baking parchment. Sprinkle coarse brown sugar in an even layer on the bottom of the tin on top of the parchment paper.

Preheat oven to 160d Celsius.

Lightly mix the honey and water together in a small bowl to form a thick syrup. Set aside.

In a bowl, beat eggs with an electric mixer until fluffy. Add the sugar and beat on high until the mixture pales and thickens. The mixture should be ready when the electric whisk leaves a slow dripping, thick trail when lifted, taking a while to disappear into the rest of the batter. (after reading more recipes for kasutera, the general feedback was to whisk for a long time until soft peaks are formed, around 15mins; I think I whisked mine for about 5-7 mins. Will give this method a try next time round for a fluffier cake.)

Mix in the honey syrup. Then sift in the cake flour (you may want to double sift this cake flour before adding to the batter) and lightly beat this in. Set aside the electric mixer, using a rubber spatula, use the folding method to gently mix until incorporated. Ensure no pockets of flour are left.

Pour the batter from a high point into the prepared loaf tin. Use the rubber spatula to slice the batter in the middle from top of the tin to the bottom in a straight line. Then, using both hands, pick up the tin and lightly tap the bottom on the table to release excess air bubbles.

Place loaf tin on a flat cookie tray and bake in the oven for 30mins, or until cake tester when inserted comes out clean.

Once baked, remove from oven and place loaf tin on a wire rack. Top the cake surface with a piece of baking parchment and place a long flat dish over it to keep the cake surface flat for 5 mins. Thereafter, remove the dish and parchment paper and let cool in the tin for a little while (another 5mins thereabouts) until cool enough to handle with your hands but still warm. Tip the cake out from the tin, baking parchment and all. Place the cake into a plastic ziplock or using clingfilm, wrap it up. This is apparently to seal the moisture within the cake. Letting it cool completely standing on its own will dry out the cake a little.

To serve, use a sharp knife and make 1inch slices from the cake. Carefully slice away the sides to reveal the inner crumb. Be very neat when slicing, because obviously I ain’t at all.