There are few things now that make me feel sacred. I won’t go on to list them but we know what they are. Honey, my connection to honey is one of the strongest senses that I have. It’s source....
There are few things now that make me feel sacred.
I won’t go on to list them but we know what they are. Honey, my connection to honey is one of the strongest senses that I have. It’s source. For the taste of my heritage is honey, also, buckwheat, sour cream, and hard liquor. We suffered for it all, our women, and we still do.
This is a grandmother’s cake. It is also one that is completely technique-driven. Untraditional, by my own standards, but I took all the components that I loved from my childhood and put them into this. There is limited overt sugar in the cake, so the reliance on sweetness must come from other sources. Honey, mead, caramelised white chocolate, also, nostalgia. That, I think, shifts the palate the most.
And how sweet of you to think this was so strong for you to build yourself on.
I swore I would never seek you. I am still thinking about that.
For the burnt honey
155 g (1/3 cup + 2 tablespoons) honey
First, put a large saucepan onto a measuring scale. Time is a crucial element in the following steps, so having your mise en place done, is imperative. Pour the honey into a separate small-sized saucepan and place it over medium-low heat. Cook, swirling occasionally, until it starts to simmer and steam, a few minutes. Increase the heat and continue to cook undisturbed for a further minute until a deep, dark and fragrant liquid has formed. It does not have to be even in hue. Remove from the heat and immediately tare the scale, pouring the hot burnt honey into the separate saucepan that you set out earlier and re-weighing to reach 85 g. It will harden as it cools.
For the cake
250 g (2 cups) all-purpose flour, 90 g (3/4 cup) buckwheat flour, 210 g (1/2 cup + 2 tablespoons) honey, 130 g (1/2 cup + 1 tablespoon) unsalted butter (cubed), 100 g (1/2 cup) granulated sugar, a teaspoon of baking soda, zest from a small orange, 4 large eggs
Set out as many baking trays as will fit in your oven at one time, then tear out thirteen sheets of non-stick parchment paper. On those, pencil out thirteen even circles, using an 18-cm (8-inch) round cake ring as a stencil. Flip the sheets over so that the exposed pencil-drawn side is face down. This cake will be ten layers high, with three of those layers used for the crumb coating.
Pre-heat the oven to 180 C (350 F).
In a large mixing bowl, sift together the two flours then set aside until needed.
Put the honey, butter and sugar into the saucepan with the burnt honey. Transfer to the stove and cook, over medium-low heat and stirring slow all the time, until the ingredients have melted together. Remove and whisk in the soda and zest. The mixture should start to sputter and foam but then settle softly. Whisk in the eggs, one at a time, until incorporated, followed by the flour. The batter will be smooth but viscous and almost velveteen in texture.
Put an off-set spatula into a glass of warm water. Portion out a third cup of the batter, or about three generous tablespoons, onto one of the prepared sheets. Dry-off the spatula with a towel then spread into a thin layer to meet the rim of the circle. Repeat this process, cleaning off the stickiness with water from the spatula each time, until all of the batter has been used up. You will have enough for thirteen layers.
Slide a sheet onto a tray and bake for 6 to 7 minutes, until golden brown. You really want to set a timer for this, so all of the layers are evenly coloured, and you can also bake multiples at a time depending on how large your oven is. Let the layers cool completely on the kitchen counter then trim off any uneven tops that may threaten the flatness of your cake.
For the soak
90 ml (1/3 cup + 1 tablespoon) mead
Brush the mead lightly over the tops of ten layers. Use your fingertips to crumble the three remaining layers into a fine crumb. Set aside for assembly.
For the caramelised cream
130 g (3/4 cup) caramelised white chocolate (finely chopped), 450 ml (1 ¾ cups + 2 tablespoons) heavy cream (divided), 120 g (1/2 cup) crème fraîche, a tiny pinch of sea salt
Next, prepare the ganache for the caramelised cream. Put the chocolate into a bowl, then, in a saucepan, bring 240 ml (1 cup) of the cream to a boil. Stream it all over the chocolate and let it stand for a minute to acclimatize. Stir until smooth. Cover with a skin-tight cling wrap and chill until completely cold, a few hours.
Right before you’re ready to assemble the cake, put the cold ganache, remaining 210 ml’s (3/4 cup + 2 tablespoons) of cream, crème fraîche and salt in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment. Whip, until soft but steady peaks have formed.
Re-clean your workspace and set all of your components out for assembly.
Set a first cake layer onto a board or plate. Spoon a few tablespoons of caramelised cream over the top and all the way to the edges. It’s fine if it spills over a little. Rest a second layer on top, pressing it down with a light amount of pressure, then again, spoon over a scant amount of cream. Repeat until the cake is ten layers high. Slick the top and sides with the remaining cream, then press on the reserved crumb and coat well. It will be messy, there’s no way of avoiding it, but that’s all part of the fun.
Chill the cake for at least six hours or overnight. I think it’s best eaten after it’s had time to settle and soften, the flavours knowing each other.
