I am loyal to my cakes. I don’t move on quickly from my favourites and I try to be as discerning as the Berghain doorman before I anoint a cake with the coveted ‘base recipe’ status.
For years, when it came to fluffy layer cakes, I’d look no further than genoise sponge. The recipe (which you can find here and, in my book, SIFT: The Elements of Great Baking) is a true trusty steed, the Samwise Gamgee of cakes, and it’ll never let you down. But lately, I’ve found myself in a bit of an affair.
Though genoise offer you a fluffy, tight, energetic crumb that stacks beautifully, I found myself in search of an alternative. Look - mastering the genoise is important – being solely leavened by air, it is pure technique. The first time I managed to fold gently, but swiftly, enough to achieve a light, lofty sponge felt like a real sense of achievement. BUT… Despite these qualities, I’ve been slowly developing a relationship with another cake on the side. And in the last few months, I’ve landed on a new cake base sponge that I’m finally ready to share with you! I even stress tested it at a pop-up - the ultimate sign of approval!
Friends, let me introduce to you an incredibly reliable, rich-but-light chiffon sponge that stacks like a dream, and can hold its own against richer fillings (Curd! Custards! Ganache!). It has a tender, flexible crumb and is bolstered with milk and butter, with a helping hand from baking powder. While it’s less fussy to mix than a genoise, it does need to be cooled upside down to maintain the tender crumb, and you do need to use a specific type of cake tin (NOT non-stick, aluminium like this or this is perfect) for success.
How do airy cakes work again?
I’ve written about the family tree of airy sponge cakes before (read it here) so you’ll know there’s a range of adjustable ingredient levers to alter the final cake. Let me recap it quickly here:
Flour, which is usually the heart of baked goods, provides structure through gluten and starch, tends to take more of a back seat in airy cakes. Compared to a butter-rich cake with some 25%+ overall flour, usually ranging from a tiny 6% - a heartier 21%!
Eggs, like flour, eggs harden (i.e. coagulate) when baked. This means they provide structure to the final bake. It’s a twofold talent of being 1) very good at capturing air and 2) the ability to harden and set when heated that gives foam cakes the unique light texture. As a result, eggs, whipped with air into foams, tend to be the dominating ingredient. This can either be in the form of whole eggs, known as sabayon, egg yolks, known as ‘pate a bombe’, or egg whites, known as meringue.
Sugar stabilises the aforementioned egg foams. The more sugar, the more dense the foam. A denser foam folds less easily into other ingredients so the egg foams in airy cakes tend to be less than 1:1 sugar to egg ratio.
Fat is famously tenderising; both the type of fat and the amount of fat makes a difference in these cakes. Solid fat, like butter, tends to result in a more flavourful but drier cake, while cakes made with oil are less flavourful but more tender.
Raising Agents – If a foam cake is rich, like a chiffon, it is often bolstered with chemical raising agents to help lighten the texture.
Moisture is the final intriguing factor for the foam cakes -moisture comes from LOTS of places in baked goods but there is usually added liquid in foam cakes like chiffon, often in the form of milk
A new cake in town
Although this is the official introduction, the very first iteration of today’s recipe, now firmly with ‘base recipe’ status, appeared here on KP+ back in January! I’ve made some subtle changes to this cake since its first appearance on this newsletter as the ‘rich chiffon’ for the lemon meringue cake - namely, less butter, more flour and a touch more baking powder. Though these changes may seem subtle, a few grams here, a few grams there, they have made a world of difference in the way that this cake bakes.
Now, I stand by that recipe - it’s perfect for thinner sheets! A touch richer and eggier! But for cake baked loftily in a pan this is my go-to formula. I’ve mainly tested this recipe in 6- and 8-inch cake pans, but I am confident it will scale – up or down - well.
To celebrate the finalisation of this recipe, I HAD to use it make a special cake: The Summer Pudding Layer Cake.
I mean, look at that middle layer. Talk about structural integrity! It’s almost like I needed to prove this cakes worth to you – it stands tall, even with a centre that is completely saturated. If that isn’t ‘main character energy’ then idk what I can ever do to impress you.
The Cake
A few months back, when summer but a twinkle in my eye, I started thinking the British classic summer pudding. If you’re not familiar, a typical summer pudding is made by lining a basin with bread and soaking with fruit juices, compressing and turning out. The result is an ultra-juicy, rustic dessert bursting with berries that you serve with lots of cream. I do like this dessert (though 10 slices of wet white bread is a bit much IMHO) and, since bread is the original cake, I wondered if I could transport a bit of that juicy goodness into the middle of a layer cake? And turns out yes, yes you can.
Berries - Blackcurrants! Recurrants! Blackberries! Blueberries! Raspberries! - are macerated then gently cooked to coax out the maximum amount of juice. Split in three, one sponge is soaked to saturation and placed in the centre – via a sojourn in the freezer to make it viable of course – the placed in between the summer fruit and layers of whipped custardy cream to provide big summer pudding energy in beautiful, sliceable shareable and transportable form.
Once melded – a night was perfect, though I think you could do this on a quicker schedule – it’s coated in a whipped mascarpone cream and decorated with even more berries. It’s the perfect summer cake, and I know that I’ll be making it every year.
Alright, let’s get to the recipe