ragingyoghurt

Category Archives: cake

holy crap, but the kid turned four last saturday.

just look at her, eating cake like a pro. that very morning, as we were on our way to the supermarket to pick up picnic supplies, she volunteered from the back seat of the car, “i want a sponge cake, with strawberry cream, and chocolate, and sprinkles.”

“uh huh,” i said. at least she had given up on the chocolate cake covered in jelly snakes that her cousin had had last year.

we swung by bakers delight for a loaf of pane di casa (for the record, casa broadway is at least 73 times better than casa balmain) and a loaf of olive pane di casa — where big chunks of kalamata olives are worked through the dough, and pulverised olive puree must surely be part of the dough, because the bread, she is purple.

we did a lap around harris farm, picking out such treats as a bunch of radishes, a couple of red onions, a tub of coriander hommous and a tub of parsley pesto, a jar of cornichons, a block of fetta, two avocadoes, and a kilo of smoked salmon for the bargain price of $26.

and then with a little covert manouvering, i was able to collect the enormous pink cakebox and slide it onto my lap while she was being clipped into her seat. at some point, she asked, “what’s that pink thing?” but wasn’t actually interested in the answer.

in the minutes before the guests were due, i halved baby roma tomatoes, and sliced red onions, and dressed them in a basic vinaigrette; i cubed the fetta and anointed it in olive oil and crushed garlic; i sliced radishes. there: a salad platter to go. the kid’s dad drove it all to the park. the family arrived, bearing gifts and chips and bread and salami and a big tub of toum.

an unabashed display of eating ensued. the kid and her cousin downed the tops of four supermarket cupcakes before running off to the playground, but the rest of us made tartine after tartine. this one was my favourite i think:

white bread topped with a dollop of the pungent garlic dip and a smear of the parsley pesto and a couple slices of smoked salmon. mmm… stinky…

at the end, there wasn’t much of anything left. my cousin’s dog, peanut, discovered he really liked fetta.

we adjourned to the house for tea and cake, and the kid was not too disappointed with the pink, sprinkly hello kitty rainbow ice cream cake. there was even a layer of sponge at the bottom.

the best part about an ice cream cake — just under $40 from wendy’s. do it. you know you want to — is that even with two kids, and two aunts, and two cousins, and a gran, and a great gran, and a mum and a dad, there will still be enough for two post-birthday breakfasts for two girls who like ice cream, and cake.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 23 October 2008 at 10:25 pm

permalink | filed under cake, ice cream, kid, lunch

childfree days are precious ’round these parts, so errands are carefully scheduled and executed with military precision (that is, the precision of an army of flying monkeys).

for example: last friday morning, in the three hours after peeling the kid off my arm at playschool — “hold my hand,” she cried to me as miss sarah carried her off to the playground, “very tightly.” — i bought a package of large envelopes from kmart, then hustled over to my accountant in surry hills to deliver a year’s worth of receipts and bank statements stuffed into one of these envelopes; i just made the train to the blood bank, where i deposited 470ml of my finest red; afterwards, there was exactly enough time to try (and fail) to find a refill of shichimi togarashi at the japanese minimart on clarence street, before crossing the street to bécasse.

the last of which, i suppose, wasn’t really an errand at all. hurrah!

deborah and i were doing lunch as part of good food month, and there was a lot of lunching going on when we arrived. it was close to 2, but most tables were still occupied. we were led up the stairs at the back of the main dining room, to a table right at the very back corner of the mezzanine. it’s a very strange space, is becasse: a beige (gold, if you’re being kind) curtain runs the entire length of the restaurant, for acoustic reasons i guess; there is interesting feature lighting down front, but up where we were, it was recessed downlights and vents galore in the low, white ceiling; the wall alongside our table was white too, with a disconcertingly drippy sort of stain beneath the airconditioning vent; the carpet was beige. it all lent an air of function-room-in-an-office-building to the proceedings.

fortunately, instead of annoying paper salesmen, there were efficient waiters gliding across the floor, and it wasn’t long before one of them brought a small platter of amuse bouche to our table. small bites served in chinese soup spoons usually irk me, but the fleeting and delicious mouthful of shaved fennel and smoked trout more than made up for it.

we’d been presented with the special let’s do lunch menu, and it contained a number of extras with which to supplement the $35 main course price tag. we eschewed the two entrees (a scallop risotto and a wagyu beef salad), made a note of the dessert (a praline parfait for $15 — regular desserts are around $20), and boldly asked for a serve of bread. “one each?” asked the waiter.

alright then.

we were each served two adorable little rolls — poppyseed and sourdough — and a wonderful and aromatic rosemary… um, vine, with a block of olive oil emulsion. which was a cold mass that held its shape until it hit your tongue and liquified into a rich, fruity taste. pretty good for $5.

the main course of slow roast provencal lamb with spring vegetables, olive and herb vinaigrette arrived. oh! so pink and tender! so casually adorned with broad beans. so buttery and herbalicious the quenelle of potato. and, most importantly, so appropriate a size as to allow ample room for dessert.

the room had mostly emptied by the time we’d finished eating our meat, and our waiter had grown ever more personable. we hesitated only the briefest moment when he asked about dessert, and he read the situation correctly, and offered to bring us the regular dessert menu because it was “more exciting”.

and this is how we ended up with a surprise pre-dessert course: a tiny, delicate panna cotta with wine-poached pears, wearing a fine, tasty biscuit at a jaunty angle.

pre-dessert!

oh yes, we did chortle at our good fortune, and were somehow still overcome with wonder when dessert proper was brought to the table.

my chocolate and caramel cadeau was just as the waiter had described — a dome of chocolate mousse with a caramel heart, encased in chocolate, and then more chocolate “to make it shiny” — only better. just look how it shines! the mousse was icy cold and dense, almost solid really, and a burst of intense chocolatiness. the milk sorbet was perfect respite.

deb’s strawberry trifle with cinnamon donuts was an impossibly pretty dish. all the key ingredients were there: sponge cake at the very bottom, vanilla-flecked custard, a pure and genius layer of strawberry jelly over the lot that served as a bright canvas for the donut artistry. they were chewy delight, still hot from the fryer, with the cinnamon flavour echoed in the cinnamon ice cream.

by the time we were done, our $35 booking had just about doubled. my wallet was empty, but my heart and stomach were joyously full.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 20 October 2008 at 11:30 pm

permalink | filed under around town, cake, lunch

the mythical raspberry and lychee macaron has thus far eluded me at adriano zumbo patissier. however, when i went by the other day, there was another new flavour to herald the occasion of good food month.

[ i don’t know about you, but i actually do try to avoid bad food during the other eleven months of the year. ]

it was a plump and moist coconut macaron, and although it was told to me, i don’t recall what the green stuff was. it did have a somewhat lemongrassy taste though, which i guess makes sense?

because it was there, i also could not say no to a rice pudding macaron, and because it was an enormous beast, i had to ask the countergirl about the big brown one lurking in the corner of the display cabinet, somewhere between the macarons and the truffles.

“it’s chocolate macaron biscuits,” she said, “and in between there is chocolate marshmallow and chocolate hazelnut cream.” plus, you will notice, it is dusted in cocoa and the edges are rimmed in chocolate.

i brought it home, this chocolate monster, and made it friends with the other chocolate monster that lives inside of me. much happiness ensued.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 17 October 2008 at 10:32 pm

permalink | filed under cake, chocolate

speaking of adriano zumbo (hem)…

well. you might have noticed i went the last three months without posting a single cake photo. that’s not to say none were eaten. it’s just, the combination of feeling poor, and fat, and sick all at once really scuttled any ambition to eat my way through the entire collection. and besides, you don’t really need me to tell you about them — everyone blogs about zumbo these days, including belle, who recently posted an enviable summary of her dalliances. onya!

but so. cakes were eaten, and these are them.

the first one that caught my fancy was the petit st honore. a cakey biscuit (or biscuity cake) base topped with mad swirls of tonka bean creme chantilly, adorned with sliced strawberries and four miniature profiteroles. each one was glazed in perfect, cracklicious toffee, and filled with a divine passionfruit pastry cream.

i wikipediad tonka beans, and discovered that eaten in substantial amounts, they can be quite toxic. however, safely contained within this masterful structure, it tasted clean and curious, like ozone cream.

i deepened my infatuation with caramel with the dulce de leche eclair, a neat little package of chewy choux wearing a stripe of sticky caramel. the filling of caramel pastry cream was just wonderful — rich and creamy with an undercurrent of burnt sugar. i wolfed this one down — it was small, and i was hungry — and immediately wished i had another.

and then there was a day in the time of sickness when i felt like cake, but thought it had to be a gentle and comforting cake for the infirm. i went against the recommendations of the counterboy that day; i think he was nudging me towards the giant pink macaron filled with cherries and chocolate and coconut.

i picked the open sesame, with its delicate secret layers of yoghurt mousse and honey-date cremeux. and the slightly soggy sesame brittle that it wore as its armour.

it was very yoghurty, which i enjoyed, but in the end the texture just seemed too homogenised, and the flavour somewhat bland. of course, that was a time in which i couldn’t actually taste anything, so don’t take my word for it. it could have been a very cultured party in my mouth if i hadn’t been quite so ill.

it was a great many weeks after i first saw it in the case that i finally conquered cinque terre. the luscious ribbon of baked meringue had always called to me, like the hypnotic rattle of a sidewinder meandering through the dessert sands. i ate the layers together, and then separately, and then all together again, and couldn’t decide which way i preferred. there are cakey bits and moussey bits. creamy lemony bits and brittle chocolatey bits. raspberry bits. there are candied olives! this is a great cake. g r e a t.

the one i had most recently — o-live life — i had on a sweltering day. by the time i got it home, the olive oil mousse, though still holding its shape, was almost liquid in texture. at this temperature, the fruity olive oil was quite commanding, a big, round flavour that filled my mouth and then vanished down my throat slippery quick. the tart raspberries sequestered within were a cunning — and perfect — foil. the rice pudding creme? well, you know how i feel about rice pudding. i must warn you though: the berries only go round halfway.

and thassit. a modest roundup by all accounts, to which i may only add one or two more before the end of the run. there is one i have had my eye on from the beginning: the tanzanie, whose components are flourless chocolate biscuit, chocolate jelly, chocolate ganache, vanilla brulee, chocolate mousse and chocolate meringue. it is crowned with a magnificent wave of dark chocolate. i don’t know how i have not had it yet. but soon, my pet, soon.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 9 October 2008 at 11:02 pm

permalink | filed under cake

as we walked that stretch of circular quay between the lego blocks and the cardboard cartons yesterday, we were stunned to see that a chocolate cafe had materialised in the toaster, right next to the dendy cinemas. mid-afternoon, after the rain had cleared, and a modest skyscraper had been constructed out of five cardboard boxes, we popped into the brand-spankin’-new guylian belgian chocolate cafe.

it was an impulsive move: we had eaten lunch not too long ago, and the kid was in that precarious mid-afternoon mood. but what do you do when 1. you stumble upon a new chocolate cafe and 2. you decide on a whim to enter said cafe? you can’t really have just a cup of tea and a biscuit.

can you?

well. we certainly couldn’t. as i read down the list in the menu (which took rather longer than necessary to be presented), the kid expressed her interest in certain items by repeating them back at me.

“cheesecake!” she said at one point. and then, “milkshake!”.

all right then. the dark chocolate buche filled with raspberry cream would just have to wait.

the dark chocolate raspberry cheesecake, though, appeared soon enough, a squat slice cut from a fat, round cake. it was surrounded by swirls and puddles — raspberry coulis and white chocolate sauce — and the kid went straight for the heart-shaped pool of red. the cake itself was dense and chocolatey, sitting on a base of slightly soggy, lemon-scented biscuit crumb, and there were clearly bits of real raspberries in it: we crunched on the seeds. although it seemed like a modest serve when it arrived, in the end it remained unvanquished. would this have been different if we had been less laden with lunch? or if the cake had been that bit more delicious?

perhaps it was the milkshake’s fault. though for something called “chocolate shake”, it wasn’t overly chocolatey. in fact, i wouldn’t even say it was chocolatish. what it was mostly, was a glass of cold milk, with a small, partially intact scoop of vanilla ice cream in it, and the inside of the glass had been zigzagged with molten chocolate, which, by virtue of sitting in a volume of cold milk, had solidified completely. how very strange to have to scrape these trails of hard chocolate off the surface of the glass.

i guess if it had been an actual chocolatey chocolate shake, we might have died. as it is, we didn’t even get to the bottom of the glass. there were a lot of milkshakes going round that afternoon, and trade in general seemed brisk. when i asked the guy behind the counter when they’d opened, he said, only a little agitatedly, “two days ago”.

i really must work on getting my tolerance for rich chocolate desserts back up to the levels they were five years ago. you must know by now, the adriano zumbo chocolate cafe opens at the end of the week.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 7 October 2008 at 10:45 pm

permalink | filed under around town, cake, chocolate, kid

well. since i can’t taste anything at the moment, i thought i’d show you these pictures from a while ago. like, march, when my sister was in town, and i still had money in the bank and a sister in town, and we traipsed around town and pretended to be the types of girls who have long, leisurely lunches at inner city hotspots like bentley.

oh wait, we really did.

although, twenty minutes to our noontime reservation (made that morning), we were twitching on the newtown station platform, realising we weren’t gonna make it. i called up the restaurant to let them know we were running late, and to please hold our table. and when we finally arrived, our table was truly still available. as were most of the other tables, for most of the time we were there. whoulda thunk it? you’d expect friday lunchtime to be packed to the rafters.

so hurrah, we took our time reading and re-reading the menu, and then took our time eating our meal, and it all unfurled slowly and delicately and quite beautifully, from the straighforward but delicious beginning of chewy bread and fruity oil.

we each ordered a white anchovy stick with pistachio praline; perhaps we should have gotten a couple more. a number of clean, salty fillets were rolled up and impaled on a skewer, and then coated in sweet crunch — a perfect balance of textures and flavours, none of which could be described as “fishy”.

we shared the gazpacho three ways, pristine, chilled soups of herbs, tomato and almond milk. my favourite one changed with each sip i took. in between, we picked at the colour-matched kingfish ceviche with pickled watermelon and coriander.

we did order cooked food as well of course, although the calamari served over squid ink rice and green chilli were so light and ethereal it seemed they must have been cooked by tiny sea nymphs. it certainly smelt of the ocean.

everything up until then had been from the tapas menu, plated to share. so we were surprised and impressed when our one item off the entree menu — caramelised pork cheek with beetroot and smoked salmon ravioli — came divided up into two perfectly art-directed miniature servings, one for each of us. we sat and gazed upon it for some time, our fingers poised quivering on our own cheeks.

i don’t know that i have ever used the phrase “melt-in-your-mouth” on this blog, but there you have it. and so rich and flavoursome. our plates were scraped clean by the time we were finished, not a tiny purple flower or paper-thin slice of beetroot “pasta” remained.

and then there was dessert. we may be the sort to share an entire lunch, but everyone gets their own dessert. nellie even had two. well, ok, she had two of the small sweets, because how much do you think $6 might buy you at a fancy restaurant these days? turns out, a lot. the hot ricotta dumplings (like eating fluffy little donuts) and the chocolate ganache with orange oil (like eating fancy nutella out of the jar) were more than enough to go round, even with my $16 black olive sorbet with carrot cake and coffee crunch.

i generally don’t pick coffee anything, and never ever carrot cake, but so strong was my interest in the black olive sorbet that i went boldly forth. i was rewarded with a quenelle of sweet and cold that burst on my tongue with intense salty olive flavour before melting away. the carrot cake was an orange sponge, mild and sweet, with a sort of steamed texture — if only all carrot cake could be like this. there was a rich carroty… i dunno, emulsion? and an unexpected, somewhat flavourless and colourless jelly. and the crunch, sweet and sandy, and not overly coffee-ish. not too shabby at all, by which i mean, really good.

it’s true, i’ve rolled my eyes when i’ve read about molecular gastronomy, and was mildly concerned before we rocked up to bentley that our lunch might be a bit ridiculous and gimicky. but bentley doesn’t go to quite the extremes of that spanish guy, and certainly nothing we ate bubbled or squeaked or foamed. (at one point, something vapoury did waft over from the next table.) in fact, this turned out to be one of the most enjoyable, exciting and unforgettable meals ever to pass my table, marred only by the service, which, though efficient, tended to err on the side of the waiters being way too cool. one of them corrected my pronunciation of “ceviche” in that passive-aggressive way of stressing his pronunciation — ceveesh — when repeating the order; the other asked us, “are you sure?” most disbelievingly when we pointed out that we’d only had one bottle of fizzy water rather than the two which had shown up on the bill.

grumble.

but yeah, waiters aside, bentley was lovely and amazing.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 27 September 2008 at 3:27 pm

permalink | filed under cake, lunch, nellie

hem. i’ve been hiding.

you know how it is. you go away for a few days. and you come back, but don’t tell anyone, and over the next couple of weeks you realise how unfettered you feel without the blog attached. and then a couple more weeks go by, and then a couple of months apparently — some people have been counting, evidently, and leaving heartfelt secret messages on their blogs — and suddenly, you’ve even forgotten what size to crop your photos, necessitating some resaving of pictures so you can post them.

i really didn’t know if i’d be back. i hadn’t planned it, but along the way, as i luxuriated in this pocket of time that not writing afforded me — a pocket of time that i squandered finally finishing “gilmore girls” and starting “six feet under”… and laying out an annual report [note to self: send invoice] — becoming a reader of blogs rather than a writer of one became a very attractive option. (i also thought of maybe writing this as an anger blog rather than a food blog after an encounter with the ridiculous and exasperating seagull woman of darling harbour on an excursion to the aquarium a few weeks ago.)

well. it could still happen i suppose.

but not today. today, i bring you macaron! we stopped by the lindt cafe at cockle bay wharf after the aquarium, me and the kid, for a dark hot chocolate and a babycino. they had recently introduced a new macaron flavour — blackcurrant — and had organised a festival of delice to celebrate. the festival, as far as i could tell, consisted of a free third macaron for every two you bought. i think that perhaps stretches the conventional definition of “festival”, but at the same time, i wouldn’t turn down a free macaron. so, fine.

they look like fat, perfect specimens, don’t they, nestled in their fancy lindt-paper-lined box? but their shells were brittle and hollow, and their fillings unyielding, though undoubtedly quite tasty. tchk. i ate them during a workbreak the next afternoon, swiftly and joylessly. i wished they could all be zumbo rice pudding macaron.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 13 September 2008 at 10:42 pm

permalink | filed under around town, blog, cake

there’s an almost ominous air in the window at adriano zumbo patissier. stark against the black drapery, a plainly typeset sheet of paper reads: new collection out 5 july. that’s today!

just over a week ago, i walked past the shop after a bout of grocery shopping. sometimes when you’re loaded down with calico bags, all it takes is a quick turn of the head as you pass the door, to see what colours of macaron there might be in the centre display case. that day, there were none. but as i faced forward again to propel myself home, a voice fell out into the street, calling my name.

counterboy was behind the counter, but crouched down low and out of sight. “we have lots of new flavours today,” he said, “but i’m just setting them up now.” timing eh? his arm surfaced first, at the end of which was a hand proffering a sparkling green macaron. like the tail of a mermaid it was (a disney mermaid), encrusted in coloured sugar. i peered into the filling, and was surprised to see it flecked with what appeared to be leaves. turns out it was basil and lime, and rather more limey than basily. i wasn’t much enamoured of the flavour, but it shure was purty.

later, cosy at home, i surrendered to the rice pudding macaron. released from its bag, it filled the surrounding air with the comforting scent of cinnamon. that’s it there, dusted just so. eating it was bliss; the light and chewy biscuit gave way to a rich filling that tasted of palm sugar, and hid crunchy grains of toasted rice throughout. it immediately became my number one favourite macaron.

the chocolate-earl grey macaron lasted quite a bit longer, two days perhaps, because i approached it with caution. because i am no great fan of earl grey tea, by which i mean, i will not drink the stuff. but the lemony bergamot flavour that i find so caustic and irksome in the beverage was far softer and rounder in the chocolate ganache. it even tasted of tea! in fact, this bronzed beauty was rather good, and you can safely have one with no hesitation.

yesterday, after a tip-off that the rice pudding macaron were back in stock, i popped back into zumbo to cancel out the awful morning that involved a moderate downpour; a bus that trundled up to the stop with its signboard showing the wrong number so i didn’t hail it and it went by and i had to wait another half hour for the next one; a temporarily misplaced bus pass; a kid who decided she didn’t want to be at school right after we arrived there; a doctor whose waiting room was so full they were no longer taking appointments for the day; the biatch driver of the BMW who decided she wouldn’t need to signal she was turning into the street i was about to cross — at a zebra crossing even — and when she saw me two steps into the street, merely slowed down and waved at me before driving straight through.

a w f u l.

the chocolate-earl grey macaron were now distinguished by a casual scatter of tea leaves, but i only had eyes for the rice pudding… and that shimmery golden one in the corner.

banana, caramel and chocolate, i was told, by the boy behind the counter. i asked him if he’d already tried it, and if it was exceptionally good, and when he nodded his reply, i bought two.

and now that i’ve had one, i can say that it is beyond exceptional — it is amazing. the insides are swollen with the soft ripeness of bananas (actual bananas, as they say), and the caramel is a warm hug for your tongue — a good thing, surely.

so the question at this stage is, how many number one favourite macaron can a person have? i haven’t had a chance to see the main couture line, but if the biscuits are any indication, this winter collection is shaping up in a most pleasing manner.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 5 July 2008 at 11:58 am

permalink | filed under cake

breakfast, sunday morning, 9am.

saturday afternoon, we stopped by luneburger for lunch, on the way to the kinokuniya zine fair. as i finished my delicious sunflower-seeded roll filled with pastrami, cheese and salad, i glanced over at the counter and discovered that a whole new tray of sweet buns had appeared during the course of our little meal. it really was an amazing sight, and in my mind i was already eating one for breakfast before i had even returned to the counter to buy it.

[ countergirl, visibly surprised: “oh! you were just here!” ]

behold: the chocolate-crumble roll. a base of plain yeasty bun topped with a monstrous amount of soft, crumbly, cocoa-rich biscuit and a flirty zigzag of sugary icing. in fact, the edges of the pastry were all crumb, and in the end, too much even for one and a half chocolate-mad girls.

of course, we anticipated none of this after the zine fair, when we returned to the underground labyrinth around town hall station to finally cash in my krispy kreme birthday voucher from two birthdays ago.

there’s nothing like a free doughnut sundae to bring cheer to a random unbirthday celebration. i picked the current promotion doughnut — “chokkolate” glazed — and a scoop of boysenberry ripple, and the kid chose “rainbow”. mmm… lurid. honestly, i wasn’t expecting too much of the ice cream; i figured it would be like if you ordered a grilled fish meal at KFC… turns out it’s super premium stuff, rich and creamy with an almost stretchy texture. totally outdid the doughnut i thought, which was after all the regular yeast doughnut, with a fudgey chocolate glaze, just like the name sez. i don’t know why i thought it would be chocolate on the inside too.

it’s probably just as well it wasn’t though, given the breakfast we were up against in the new day.

probably.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 29 June 2008 at 10:47 pm

permalink | filed under around town, cake, chocolate, ice cream

i’d been thinking about painting my bedroom green for several years now. many, many years actually. behold this fine mosaic of paint chips i have amassed: one of these is for ralph lauren paint in a lovely shade of dogwood, and another is from crayola (“green thumb”, it’s called; i also have a little square of warm, sunny yellow called “macaroni and cheese”). both these tchotchkes i procured on my last trip to new york, which would make this quest at least… um… six years old.

it wasn’t so much a fear of commitment that stood in my way. ok, so it was a little. but it was more that i was afraid my room would end up looking like a hospital recovery ward. calm, soothing, healing green and all. and yet, this impulse kept rearing its head, year after year.

a few weeks ago, i finally gave in to it. there was a lot of masking tape involved, and scuffmarks on the ceiling from the ladder i bought when i used to live somewhere with high ceilings. there was a surprise appraisal from the team of actual, professional painters who, coincidentally, were repainting the outside of my building. there was a chocolate croissant for sustenance, and an early-to-mid-’90s australian rock playlist (cue: tumbleweed, you am i, spiderbait), and then…

green.

i like it in the morning, mossy in the natural light. not so much at night, with the energy-saving lightbulb casting a disturbing radioactive hue. i think i might have to revert to a good old-fashioned tungsten wire.

last week, i finally, finally put the cake on the wall. if i wake up on my left side, it’s the first thing i see. because of course, it’s never too early for cake!

posted by ragingyoghurt on 14 June 2008 at 9:48 am

permalink | filed under cake, misc

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