INTRODUCTION
BAKER: You can’t attend a celebration without cake appearing at some point, surrounded by fanfare and flickering candles. Have you always been so popular?
BAKER: What constitutes a “cake,” exactly?
BAKER: Aren’t you a symbol of all that’s wrong with modern cuisine, an instrument destined to make our children obese and sick?
Allow me to introduce my sweet friend, cake. Cake, meet my fellow bakers. Fellow bakers, meet cake. You’ve met her before—perhaps in chocolate or vanilla, possibly presented to you in a sheet or sliced from a small round. But now we’ve got an opportunity to ask her a few questions, so let’s go!
CAKE: Yes. But don’t hate me because I’m beautiful and delicious. I’ve been around since ancient times, the delicacy of pharaohs and reclining Grecians. Back in the day, I was most likely a honey-and-nut confection, a bit more breadlike than fluffy. And when all things sweet were a genuine treat, too expensive for common folk to get ahold of, I led a rarified life among royalty and fancy people. Once sugar manufacture became mechanized and efficient, I was made available to all and sundry, and now anyone at any time can be graced with my delicious presence. You’re welcome.
CAKE: How dare you! Don’t try to pigeonhole me with such a question; I’m multifaceted and complex! Just think about this: When you assemble a birthday cake, you layer cake with a luscious filling, and then usually you ice the whole thing. And what do you call the lovely creation you just made? That’s right: cake. So I’m an element of the whole and I’m the whole. Existential, ain’t it? And I come in many guises: cupcake, round layer cake, single-slab sheetcake. I can be made fluffy by whipping eggs into a frenzy, or springy by adding baking powder or baking soda. Some of my brethren even use natural yeast to get high and mighty. That’s right! Yeast, in cake! Sometimes I’m composed of layers of meringue instead of spongy pastry, and sometimes I’m a jewel-toned mousse. Some of my family members are gluten-free; others are chockfull of flour. Some people call me a gâteau or a torte. I am all these things—and more.
CAKE: Anything in excess is dangerous. Confine your diet to a strict regimen of kale and carrots, and you’ll be sick in no time. I’m pretty irresistible; of this I am acutely aware. I’m tasty, contain very few nutrients, and am very hard to say no to. I’d rather you save me for special occasions and even then, savor me in moderation. I hate to be thought of as “common,” so keep me special and use me with care.
CAKE: First, let me just say that every cake should be beautiful, and beautifully made from the inside out. When you embark on the journey of creating a cake, you should approach it with care and thoughtfulness. Remember, I’m multifaceted—a feast for all the senses—and I’m not going to let you forget it. Above all, you should strive to make me outrageously delicious. But as you go about developing my flavors and luscious textures, you must also take care to make me visually sumptuous. My purpose in life, after all, is to be eaten, and for this to happen, you must come upon me and see something on the outside that entices you. And then you’ll take a knife to me and scar me permanently . . . but that’s a story for my pastry therapist and not something we need discuss any further. The bottom line is, baking and decorating need not and should not be mutually exclusive. If you approach cake making as simply an exercise in advanced arts and crafts without paying heed to the fact that your intended audience will also be ingesting your visual masterpiece, you’ve missed the point of my existence entirely. By all means, dress me in edible haute couture, but never lose sight of the fact that
CAKE: This book is for everyone. Some recipes are easy peasy. Some are complex. As you become more adept at the simpler techniques, you can start taking on the recipes that once intimidated you. Each chapter is devoted to a technique of making cake (me) and will begin with my most streamlined iteration. As the chapter progresses and your confidence grows, you will see how complex I can become, and then you’ll be able to mix and match as you see fit. And you can always visit me at https://www.facebook.com/bakeitlikeyoumeanit for extra help!
CAKE: Beautiful and a stand or hand mixer. Most people have a cake pan or two; you’ll need a few of those. But most important, you have to “bake it like you mean it.” If you’ve got the right attitude, you’ll make great cake.
BAKER: Is this a decorating book or a baking book?
BAKER: Is this book for the beginner?
BAKER: So what do I need to start?
BAKE IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT My baking philosophy—my mantra—has always been “bake it like you mean it.” To bake with an eye for the details and the pleasure of the process. To bake with the intent to create desserts that are delicious and beautiful from the inside out. And I’m finding that home bakers are chomping at the bit for new and amazing ways to work with cakes and cupcakes. If popular cookbooks geared toward designing ever more extravagant treats are any indication, it’s obvious that both serious and occasional bakers are seeking out the different and challenging. What’s even more exciting is that it’s possible to make a visually stunning masterpiece without complicated carving and manhandling of cake layers. Bake It Like You Mean It is a compendium of gorgeous cake recipes and techniques that will yield glorious pastries for everyone, from the bakers who want to impress without breaking a sweat to those who want to challenge themselves and expand their baking skills. It is my firm belief that a cake isn’t worth making if it isn’t going to be beautiful in every way: from the exterior décor, to inside the slice, to the glory of scrumptious flavors and perfect textural balance in your mouth. Bake It Like You Mean It is the next wave in making, baking, and building cakes that are masterpieces from the inside out. From deceptively easy recipes to incredibly fun and challenging cake art, there’s no reason your next cake can’t be just such a masterpiece.
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creamy
BARYSHNIKOV TARTLETS Makes 4 tartlets a traditional pavlova is a free-form meringue tart, smeared on a baking sheet to form an ersatz bowl meant to hold fillings. The ultimate gluten-free pie! Once it’s baked, the meringue is slathered with whipped cream and topped with fruit. In the spirit of order (and parsimony), I prefer to pipe the meringue into small, tight circles and sandwich these tartlets with a lightly sweetened Greek yogurt. I’ve taken the liberty of naming this new iteration of a venerable confection for my favorite tiny dancer and girlhood crush, Mikhail Baryshnikov. He destroyed my dreams of becoming a professional ballerina when I saw him in person, as I realized that at twelve I already towered over him. This confirmed my suspicion that a tall, knock-kneed, uncoordinated preteen might not make the most elegant dance partner. The presentation here, however, is entirely up to you.
parchment. Flip the parchment over, so the circles are visible but will not transfer onto the meringue. In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, whisk the egg whites, vinegar, and salt until foamy. In a small bowl, stir together the sugar and cornstarch. With the mixer running on medium-high speed, slowly pour the sugar mixture into the egg whites (this should take a few minutes; be patient). Raise the mixer speed to high and continue to whisk until medium-stiff peaks form. (Be very careful not to overbeat the meringue to the point of dryness.) Transfer the meringue into a large pastry bag fitted with a large open star tip (Ateco #825). Starting in the middle of one of the circles drawn on the parchment, pipe the meringue in a continuous spiral until you reach the edge of the circle. Repeat the piping with the remaining circles. Place a little dab of leftover meringue under each corner of each piece of parchment to secure the paper to the pan (otherwise it will curl up and attach itself to the meringue). Bake for 45 to 50 minutes, until the meringues feel dry.
FOR THE MERINGUES: 5 egg whites 1 teaspoon vinegar pinch salt 1 cup (200 g) sugar
Make the filling:
2 teaspoons cornstarch 1 teaspoon vanilla bean paste
1 tablespoon honey
Strain the yogurt through a fine-mesh sieve lined with cheesecloth to remove any excess water. Transfer the yogurt to a bowl, mix well with the honey, and chill for 30 minutes.
FOR THE ASSEMBLY:
To assemble:
FOR THE FILLING: 1 cup (250 g) Greek-style yogurt
1 pint (250 g) raspberries
Top 4 of the meringue discs with 4 to 5 fresh raspberries and then spoon 3 tablespoons of the yogurt on top of the raspberries. Top with another disc of meringue. Pipe a small dollop of yogurt onto the center of the top disc and top with a raspberry. Serve immediately.
Make the meringues: Preheat the oven to 225°F (107°C). Line two half sheet pans with parchment paper. Draw 6 (4-inch / 10-cm) circles, evenly spaced a few inches apart, on each piece of
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meringues
WILD BLUEBERRY AND GUANABANA BAVARIAN CREAM LAYER CAKE Makes 1 (8-inch / 20-cm) cake this is a wonderful example of the simple delight that is sponge cake: a delicate vanilla sponge cradling creamy, fruity Bavarian cream and accented by tart guanabana curd. Guanabana, you ask? Why yes! It’s actually not as exotic as you might think and is available in cans of “nectar” in the international sections of most grocery stores. The taste is a cross between a strawberry and a pineapple, just a little more tart. And what makes this cream Bavarian? Must you yodel to it as you stir? Sadly, no. It’s merely the addition of gelatin to a traditional pastry cream. The ripest berries in season are crucial, so you should feel free to swap out the blues I suggest and swap in riper varieties. Each element’s flavor and color sing without overpowering each other, the sponge both playing host to the filling and providing structure to the beautiful layers.
2 cups (480 ml) heavy cream, divided
FOR THE SPONGE CAKE:
FOR THE ASSEMBLY:
7 eggs, at room temperature
1 pint blueberries
6 egg yolks ½ cup (100 g) sugar ¼ cup (30 g) cornstarch pinch salt 1 teaspoon orange extract 1 teaspoon powdered gelatin 4 pints (1.5 kg) fresh wild blueberries, divided FOR THE BUTTERCREAM: 1 cup (200 g) sugar ¼ cup (60 ml) guanabana juice 5 egg whites, room temperature pinch salt 1 pound (455 g) unsalted butter, room temperature 1 to 2 drops orange gel food coloring
1 cup (200 g) sugar
Make the sponge cake:
½ teaspoon salt 2 cups (250 g) all-purpose flour
Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C). Prepare two 8-inch (20-cm) round cake pans by lining the bottom of each with a round of parchment paper and spraying with nonstick cooking spray.
¼ cup (55 g) unsalted butter, melted 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract FOR THE GUANABANA CURD: 2 teaspoons powdered gelatin
In the heatproof bowl of a stand mixer, combine the eggs, sugar, and salt and gently whisk to break apart the eggs. Place the bowl over a saucepan of simmering water and whisk constantly until the sugar has completely melted and the mixture is warm to the touch.
1½ cups (360 ml) guanabana juice, divided (from one 12-ounce / 360-ml can; I use Goya brand) 1½ cups (300 g) sugar 14 egg yolks 4 tablespoons unsalted butter
Remove the bowl from the saucepan and, using a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, whisk until the
FOR THE BAVARIAN CREAM: 1 cup (240 ml) whole milk
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