Hansen's Cakes, Los Angeles

I should start by explaining that I'm currently writing a book about cake. It's still in the early stages, so I don't want to spill too many details in case I suddenly find myself taking it in new directions, but seeing as many of the posts to come will have to do with research and experiments I am doing for the project, I thought I'd put it out there.

Right. So, book or not, one of the first things I do when planning a trip to a new city is find out where the best bakeries are. Seeking a slice of great cake in LA was far more important to me than many of the sites. True, it was not my first time visiting so I'd already seen most of the tourist attractions, but even if I'd never set foot there before, cake would have been top on my list (followed closely by eating as much good Mexican food as possible).

I'd read about Hansen's Cakes in my Rough Guide to LA. Though the review was very complementary, it only listed their Beverly Hills location and gave few details. Turns out this historic LA bakery has three locations and dates back seven generations.



The photo above is of the Beverly Hills shop, which has been open since the 1950's. There was the usual window display...



and the usual display case...



filled with an assortment of shaped and sheet cakes. Not so usual was the wall of autographed celebrity head-shots given by appreciative clients.

I introduced myself and explained a bit about the book to Kathy, the ridiculously nice woman running the shop that day. A smile sneaked across her face, and she got up and walked to a refrigerator in the back. She returned, handing me a box packed with samples...



remarking "Well...you have to try it!"

We chatted for a while about cake, the shop, and a little of the history. Started in the 1920's by the first Mr. Hansen, it was the go-to bakery for major Hollywood royalty who had trouble finding Kosher cakes in the city. She suggested that I stop by their location on Fairfax and visit with the current Mr. Hansen to learn more. Only in LA for a few days, I said I'd try, thanked her as many times as I could, and left with a stack of brochures and the box of cake.

That night, we sampled a few and it is, without a doubt, some of the best cake I've ever had. Each and every flavor was wonderful, not too sweet and texturally fantastic. That settled it—even crunched for time, I knew I had to try and meet the man (and the name) behind such amazing confections.

We'd rented a car for the next day in order to go visit one of the main reasons for the trip: The Cake Lady and her Mini-Cake Museum (more on that later this week), and managed to squeeze in a quick visit to the Fairfax shop. I had called early in the morning to see if I needed an appointment to meet Mr. Hansen, and was told he'd be there all day and to just stop by.



Which we did. When I asked a woman at the large front desk about speaking with the owner, she paused, looked at me with faint distrust, and asked "Why?" After I explained, she quickly said "Mr. Hansen is very busy." Kathy, she was not.

A tad disappointed (and afraid), I compromised to email with questions, took a business card and left. As we were standing in front of the shop trying to decide if I should try once more, a man who looked an awful lot like the picture of the current Hansen Kathy had showed me the day before walked by . Figuring there was nothing to loose, I chased after him calling out "Mr Hansen!" He stopped, understandably a bit taken aback, but when I explained who I was and why I had chased him, he kindly offered a quick tour of the bakery.

Inside, I mentioned the brilliance of the cake. He patted a stack of large powder-dusted paper bags and explained that they used a patented secret recipe. Secret was the word of the day as we walked passed the mixing area, the ovens, the wall (!) of cake pans in all shapes and sizes, and the decorating area, which is why, as much as it killed me, I did not take a single picture.

Not much was said about the history, and before I could ask he had to run off to take a phone call. He did say I could email with questions, so when (and if) I do learn more, you may see the Hansen name again.

If you find yourself in LA looking for a wonderful cake (they don't sell slices—but they do sell cupcakes), stop by the Beverly Hills location and tell Kathy I say hello.

Hansen's Cakes

Some Cake Miscellany for You As I Recover from a Visit to L.A.

that included a few cake-related stops I'll be posting about once I get all of the photos downloaded. Until then...



I recently came across the picture above of the wedding cake I had baked for one of my step-sister's weddings. It was taken in early 2000 and was my first (and as of now, only) wedding cake. At the time, I knew nothing about baking save for the fact that I liked to do it. My mom had borrowed a few larger cake pans from a co-worker for me to use (to the best of my recollection, a 14" and an 18"), and I bought multiple boxes of white cake mix and tubs of white frosting from the grocery store to accommodate.

As far as I can remember, the thought of baking the cake from scratch never crossed my mind. I grew up happily on boxed cake mix cakes, and, until I learned how easy a scratch cake could be and how much better I found the taste, that's what I used.

The cake gods must have been smiling on me that day because, even though I over-mixed, filled the pans with way too much batter causing a near-fire, and broke the bottom layer trying to get it out of the pan, the cake worked out beautifully. I'm sure the gobs of frosting as bandages as well as the (fresh!) daises I used to decorate the cake were partially to thank for that, but I'd like to think maybe fate knew what was in store for me and my baking future and decided to intervene before I turned my back on baking forever. Cue music.

•••

My friend Jaime sent along the photos below of a recent afternoon she spent with Katie (the recipient of the Good Luck Coconut Lemon Tea Cake) helping neighbors Anthony and Alexander decorate a 30th birthday cake for their mom. It's a splendid cake, if I do say so myself, so I thought I'd share it with all.

•••

The Wilton School in Illinois is having its 80th anniversary celebration on June 14th. It looks like it's going to be an interesting day for cake-lovers. Here's a link to the info if you feel inclined to investigate further.


The Wilton Family circa 1940. Photo courtesy of wilton.com

Good Luck Coconut Lemon Tea Cake

One of the reasons I love bundt cakes: I took the photo above just after I pulled the cake out of my bag, having carried it to work pressed against my body in an attempt to shelter it from heavy rainfall. Completely intact, still tall and proud in its plastic armor, there was nary a dent or flattened slope to be found.

Out of its raincoat, a safe arrival was even more apparent—as were the stuck-a-little to the pan markings...



All is not fair in cooking and baking.

But about the cake. It was a going away good luck gift for Katie, a wonderful co-worker who is moving to D.C. for love and marriage. When I asked her what flavors she likes, coconut and lemon were at the top of the list.

I decided on Dorrie's recipe (yes, again. I can't help myself. Next time, I'm opening another book. Promise) for Coconut Tea Cake:

From Baking from My Home to Yours

Oven: 350 degrees
Prepare a bundt pan

Heat 1 cup of canned unsweetened coconut milk (well-stirred) and four 1 tbsp. pieces of unsalted butter (1/2 stick) in a small saucepan until all is hot and the butter has melted. Remove from heat but keep warm.

Sift 2 cups all-purpose flour, 1 tsp. baking powder and a pinch of salt and set aside.
Beat 4 large room temperature eggs with 2 cups of sugar for aprox. 2 minutes until pale and almost double in volume. Beat in 1 tsp. vanilla and the zest of 1 lemon.

Beat in the dry ingredients until they disappear then stir in 3/4 cup shredded coconut (I used unsweetened that I toasted, but sweetened can be used as well) followed by the milk/butter mixture. Mix until blended then pour into the pan and bake for 60-65 minute until the cake test comes back clean.

Let cool in the pan for 10 minutes before releasing the cake to cool completely on its own.



Katie loved it and ate two slices. Other co-workers seemed to like it as well. I, on the other hand, didn't really care for it. The flavors were remarkably mellow for my taste (not enough lemon zest?) and I was surprised by the texture which reminded me of Angel Food Cake—light but, well, chewy is the only word that comes to mind.

I've been a blind baker most of my life, mindlessly following a recipe with no understanding of how the ingredients work together to create such different textures and flavors, especially with regards to the order in which they're mixed. I think the time has come to start paying more attention. To take notes. To go to cake summer school (me, lots of books and my kitchen).

It's going to be an interesting summer...

Two Cakes, Two Parties, One Day. Part 2.

Cake 2: A Simple Birthday Cake



Before I get to the how's of that, let's rewind a bit to the Thursday night before Friday's parties. Cake #1 was frosted and hanging out in the fridge, I was feeling pretty on top of things and more than ready to bake cake #2.

Chocolate had been explicitly requested for Dietrich's cake, but he strikes me as someone who loves the classics, so I knew it would be best to bring a basic chocolate cake with little adornment. In this case, simply lightly sweetened whipped cream with a quiet bourbon vanilla kick.

I chose the recipe for Sour Cream Chocolate Cake from Nigella Lawson's How to Be a Domestic Goddess book. Now, I love Nigella as much as most and I really love the way she speaks and writes about food. That said, I find her recipes very hit-and-miss. Or at least, I have hit and miss luck with them. And Thursday night's was no exception...



A good cake gone bad (though it tasted pretty good). I'm not yet sure what happened. It was the first time I made a cake using the flour into butter approach as opposed to the standard sugar into butter. Rose Levy Beranbaum uses f-b method in her Cake Bible, which I have been meaning to make something from. Now I really will as a way to practice with the method.

But what to do about Dietrich's cake? It was 11pm on Thursday. On Friday, there would only be a short time between getting home from work and leaving for Queens. This was not the time to experiment or be unprepared.

I have a kitchen with a few small counter tops, so baking "stations" set up with pre-measured ingredients make a lot of sense when I have no time to let myself get daydreamy and mistake-prone (which happens more than I'd care to admit). On Friday, I set up station 1, also know as The Beginning...



And station 2, aka, The End...



I used a Martha Stewart recipe for Devil's Food Cake, cutting the ingredients by half as I wanted a one layer 9" cake. It baked up beautifully, and I sat it by an open window to cool while I whipped up the Bourbon-Vanilla whipped cream (using wonderful vanilla my sister gave me from this place). Not wanting to risk damage, I frosted the cake at the party, and then set it out on the table next to the beautiful (and delicious) ice cream cake his wife Wynne made...



After the singing and blowing out of candles, pieces of each cake were passed around...



...and as the ice cream melted, it soaked into the chocolate cake, making one utterly glorious mixture. Each on their own was really good, but together—now that's what I call a birthday cake.

Done and done.

Two Cakes, Two Parties, One Day. Part 1.

Last week was a big one in my cake baking life. There were two parties, both on Friday, and both cake friendly.

The first was an engagement party/wedding shower for my friend Liz—who also happens to be my boss. Yeah, no pressure there.
The second was for my friend Dietrich's birthday later that night.

The big question: could I pull off two cakes in one week for one day, both accounting for personalities and taste and big enough to slice up for a small crowd?

The answer: sure, but not without an abundance of the holy tetratry*, plastic wrap, dish washing, planning, cursing, and thinking on my feet.

Cake #1: Love Cake


Liz really loves British things, so we decided to throw her an afternoon tea complete with scones, clotted cream and jam from Tea & Sympathy (in my humble opinion, one of the best places in NYC). Liz also really loves chocolate, so it wasn't hard to begin with the idea of chocolate cake. After a good few days of recipe-reading and cake meditation, I decided on a combination that would be simple in its components, yet intense in rich, clean flavor and smooth in texture, ie: chocolate, raspberry and buttercream.

I baked the cake layers on Wednesday night using Dorrie Greenspan's recipe for Devil's Food Cake. After they cooled, I popped them into the fridge to get frosting-ready for Thursday night...

...when I made said frosting from butter, powdered sugar, vanilla and heavy cream. A layer of that, along with a generous layer (just under 3/4 c.) of seedless raspberry preserves, went to filling the cake. The rest coated the dark layers. Well, almost. I had miscalculated the amount of frosting that I would need for two 9" layers and, as I had another cake to get to that night (details to come later this week in "Part 2." Oh, the anticipation.), there was not time to make more.

A see-through cake is kind of like a dress that you realize is too sheer—but not until you've left for work. It's not the end of the world, but you'd rather your coworkers not know what you've got on underneath. I had already planned on popping a few fresh raspberries on top as well as a bit of chocolate to appease the whole "give them an idea of what to expect." After sleeping on it, I decided to overwhelm them with the idea of what to expect...



Which lead to me in my office just before the party mushing up and mixing together fourish ounces of chopped bittersweet chocolate with a pint of raspberries, and piling the whole lot on top of the cake in a fit of abstract expressionism. A few raspberries were sliced in half and ringed around the base of the cake because, well, it seemed like what to do.

Thankfully, it really is hard to go wrong with that combination. The cake, and the party, was a rousing success. One down, one to go.

*In cooking there is "the holy trinity": carrots, celery and green pepper or onion, depending on whom you ask and where they are cooking. In baking, at least to me, it is butter, sugar, eggs and flour. Yes, I made this word up.

Rainy Day Golden Apple Cake

On Sunday I was itching to bake a cake for a late evening treat. Ever since I'd purchased my long-coveted set of 5" cake pans, I've been constantly thinking of little cakes that I can bake: cakes appropriate for two, cakes that take advantage of what I have laying around the house, or bending-the-rules experimental cakes.

I figure if it's really bad, throwing away a small cake is a much easier sadness to confront.

Though I do my best to avoid baking things that people choke down politely, discreetly dispose of in a napkin or simply spit out in revulsion, this was my first true attempt at making a cake from scratch-scratch, my first attempt at using my head instead of a recipe to bake exactly the cake I wanted at that moment.

And the cake I wanted was an apple cake. One that would be
1) Not too sweet
2) Moist
3) Simple

Bowl at the ready, butter softened on the counter, measuring cups eager for the flour jar, I forged ahead...

Rainy Day Golden Apple Cake
From the head of yours truly*

Butter a single 5" round cake pan and press in a circle of parchment paper
Oven: 350 degrees

Thinly slice one medium-sized Golden Delicious apple and lay the slices in the bottom of the pan, overlapping in a circular pattern.
Dot with 1 tbsp. diced unsalted butter and 1/2 tsp. light brown sugar.
Cream 3 tbsp. softened unsalted butter with 1/4 cup + 1 tbsp. packed light brown sugar until smooth.
In a separate bowl thoroughly fork or whisk 2 eggs, 1/8 c. heavy cream, and 1/2 tsp. vanilla.
Gently stir most of it into the butter-sugar mixture. Why most of it? At the last second it seemed that much liquid would be too much, so I left off a little. That said, add it all if you'd like. I doubt it will cause much, if any, difference.
Once incorporated, stir in the zest of 1 medium lemon.
Sift 1/2 c. + 1 tbsp. all-purpose flour with 1/4 tsp. baking powder and a pinch of salt. Stir into the wet ingredients until you no longer see any of the dry.
Pour the batter on top of the apple layer and bake for 30 minutes or until the toothpick test comes back clean.
Let cool in the pan for 5 minutes, then gently slide a knife between the cake and the pan. Turn the cake out onto a rack to cool completely.

Later that night, enlisting the taste buds of my courageous boyfriend, we each took a small wedge, placed them in ramekins and drizzled heavy cream over the top and sides, letting it pool in the bottom of the dish.



I took a bite.
It was
1) Not too sweet
2) Moist
3) Simple
4) Really really good

The cream added a perfectly rich silkiness and brought out the vanilla. Too much vanilla, in the words of my boyfriend, and that night I was in agreement.

But, now I'm not so sure.

Even though it was a small cake, we still had a little less than half of it left last night. It had been a bad day, a cake-needing kind of day (though I could make a strong argument that everyday is a good day to have cake), so when I got home I cut a wedge and ate it right there, standing over the table.

The vanilla flavor had developed into an almost boozy intensity and it was brilliant. Still moist, not quite as simple, but my if it was not comfort in cake form.
Later on we finished it off politely, in a dish and drizzled with cream.

As to why I decided to call it the Rainy Day Golden Apple Cake? I'm not really sure. Sunday it rained and yesterday it rained and on both days the cake was there, bite after bite, reminding me that even the smallest successes can feel (and taste!) incredible.

*Any resemblance to recipes by those living or dead is coincidental, though most likely unavoidable. There's only so much you can do with butter, sugar, flour, and eggs if you want to be able to eat the finished product.

A Damn Good Devil's Food Cake with Chocolate Sour Cream Frosting

from Market Table in Greenwich Village.



It arrived with a scoop of dark chocolate Gelato...



...and made for a rather an amazing end to an already amazing meal.

Pictures of Cake: The Beginning

(click on photo to enlarge)

Though we'd been searching for years with no luck ("You have it!" "No, you do!" No, I'm certain I gave it to you!"...), my mom finally found my baby book packed securely in a box labeled "ABSOLUTELY DO NOT THROW AWAY" hidden in the far depths of her basement. 

It arrived in the mail this week and, for the first time in well over a decade, I walked down the overwhelmingly orange, brown, yellow and red memory lane of my first year of life. On the last few pages are photos of my 1st birthday party; the guests, the decorations, the other fat babies, and the cake. 

Oh, the cake. A classic sheet-style covered in sugary frosting. I, unsurprisingly, have no memory of what the cake tasted like, if it was too dry or too sweet, but what I do know, without a doubt, is on that day the seeds of an addiction were planted. The minutest particles of sugar, flour, eggs, butter, and baking soda (maybe baking powder, maybe both) began their slow convergence, growing over time as I grew, until one day the addiction took over. 

Pictures of Cake was born.

One Thing You Can Do with Gobs of Left-Over Cream Cheese Frosting...

...is to bake a cake for the icing instead of choosing an icing for the cake.

In last Thursday's post I mentioned that the cream cheese icing recipe in More from Magnolia had left me with plenty of  glorious  cream cheese-butter-sugar-vanilla left over. Thinking that chocolate would be a wonderful companion, I went to my cooking library (aka, a shelf in my kitchen) looking for the perfect recipe to experiment with. 

Printed up ages ago from Apartment Therapy's The Kitchen blog, the recipe I chose had been in the back of my mind as something I really wanted to try for a while. Of particular interest to me was 1 1/2 cups pureed beets used in the recipe. Though they had used the beets in an attempt to make a Red Velvet cake the old-fashioned way, what they took out of the oven was a "stunningly light, moist" chocolate cake. My mind started to wander...I love stunningly light, moist chocolate cakes. And beets. And creaminess is good with beets and chocolate. So are walnuts, so why not mix in some chopped walnuts to the icing. 

Perfect.

Well, almost. I wanted a smaller cake than the recipe allotted for (two 9" layers), but know enough from many mistakes not to mess with the ingredients until I've baked the virgin version at least once. That said, I grabbed two 5" pans as well as assorted ramekins and a coffee mug with in which to bake the overflow. Sure, I could have used a cupcake tin, but what's the fun in that?

Velvety Beet and Cocoa Cake

From thekitchn.com 

Oven: 350 degrees

Prepare two 9" cake pans or, in my case, two 5" cake pans and a variety of oven safe items

Cream:

3/4 c. butter

2 c. white sugar

Beat in:

3 eggs

until all is light, pale and fluffy.

Add:

1 tsp. vanilla

Sift together:

2 1/2 c. all-purpose flour

1 1/2 tsp. baking soda

1/2 tsp. salt

and add in alternating amounts with

1 c. milk

Then stir in:

1 1/2 c. pureed canned beets, drained

1/2 c. reserved beet juice

Mix for a few minutes until the batter is very smooth. Pour into the pans and bake for 25 min. or until a toothpick comes out clean. Let rest five min. in the pans, then remove to cool completely on a rack.

As you can see, perfect cakes mine were not:

But the cup cake was pretty fun:

And the final cake?

I sliced each cooled layer in two then spread the cream cheese frosting (into which I mixed about 1/2c. chopped walnuts) between them. Though it came out looking more like something a drunk woman would bake when faced with a late-night sugar craving, it tasted wonderful. Though I could smell the beets very faintly, I did not detect them taste-wise. 

The next day, I brought the leftovers to work and passed out slices, asking everyone to see if they could name the special ingredient. No one came close to guessing beets, and most were excited to eat "healthy cake" (I kept my lips zipped about the 2 cups of sugar). The only annoyed taster: a woman who hates beets. Of course, she only found out what was in the cake after having polished it off quicker than anyone. Classic.

Chocolate Cake with Espresso Caramel Frosting

Made by Lisa who writes the Pittsburgh Needs Eated. blog which I check in with constantly. She bakes a variety of beautiful looking (and wonderful sounding) things and posts lovely photographs. If you've never visited, I highly recommend taking a look.