How to Bake a Cake: the Dacquoise
First off, I like to begin with a time-tested recipe. For this example, we will take one I have made many, many times, in a variety of settings, and sometimes under pressure: the coconut-nutella dacquoise.
A dacquoise, you say, what the hell is that? Well, it's all very simple: you beat egg whites to stiff peaks with sugar, then gently fold in almond flour. Bake layers of this stuff, cover with nutella, and layer with whipped coconut cream. Simple! Easy! Let's start.
First, run out of food stamps.
It is vitally important to do this right when you have decided to make the cake for somebody you will see in a few days, of course. This ups the suspense. It's like you're in one of those cooking shows where everyone is yelling at each other and you have to make a parfait out of three yams, an old shoe, and half a caramelized onion. Fun!
Next, live a ways away from any store that has the two ~fancy~ ingredients you need. Spend the day on the bus so that you can get three cans of coconut cream in the brand that always works (as opposed to separating, or being too liquidy to whip up) and almond flour. It ain't cheap! But it's okay, this is part of the j o u r n e y. :)
Next, you want to separate the eggs. Take an egg and crack it with a knife. Oops! You've muddled the yolk into the white. With some shell. Curse and waste this egg by throwing it angrily into the sink.
Alright, you've got six egg whites. Geez, this is tiring! And you're awfully out of breath. Level up! You have anemia. :) Go and lay down for three hours and stare at your phone. Don't forget to put the egg whites in the fridge. Your sink will now be unusable due to being clogged up with egg, but that's ok, no one can tell under all the dirty dishes you and your five roommates have left in the sink.
Oops! It's the next day? What happened? Anyway, time to whip the egg whites.
Realize that you actually left your mixer on the other side of the country, when you moved several years ago. Go to the local not-so-thrifty big company thrift store, where you buy a hand mixer for six dollars, one of its whisks for two dollars, and the other for three. It's policy, you will be told by the tired woman at the counter, to charge separately for the whisks. The woman stares over your shoulder with mute horror in her eyes, but when you turn around, there is nothing but a rack of plain black socks, $10 per pair. The woman looks blank again, and wishes you a good day. “Enjoy the weather,” she calls out after you, funereally, and the scant light from the window behind her highlights early gray strands in her hair.
Whip the egg whites to soft peaks, then, still whipping, slowly pour in the sugar and some almond extract. Whip to stiff peaks. Gently fold this into the almond flour. Draw some circles on parchment paper and spread the mixture into these circles, patting down till it's fairly even. It will not be even. While these are baking, unclog the sink and wash the dishes. Let these cake layers cool on the counter for two days because you're really tired of standing and the kitchen is dark and dirty. There is a noodle stuck to the wall above the pots. It has been there for more than a month.
At this point we can start on the cream! Whipped coconut cream is a wonderful thing. For other cakes, you can fold it into homemade pastry cream for a delicious filling. But not today, or anytime soon, because someone has moved your whisks and a previous roommate named Matthew has your favourite pastry cream whisk, and he is kind of scary so you are not getting that back, I'm afraid (or your $400 deposit).
Canned coconut cream is often very liquidy, and it helps to leave it in the fridge overnight. That way, you can be pleasantly surprised the one time it is not liquidy and is, in fact, a brick of coconut fat. Using a spoon, then a fork, then a knife, chip out the coconut fat into your mixing bowl, or rather, the mixing bowl of one of your roommates because your mixing bowls are probably in Pennsylvania and you are in Oregon. It is not a liquid. Leave overnight in hopes of it becoming a liquid.
Wow! It's like magic, or alchemy! It has remained solid. Heat it until it is liquid and put it in the fridge to cool.
It is back to being a solid. Did you leave it in too long? Who knows. Try to mix it. Take it up to your warm room in hopes that is will soften.
Several hours pass, and it is still solid. Pour in some whipping cream in hopes that this will help. The cream spatters on the walls and counter around you, and stains your clothes. Your roommate's bowl is quite small, so switch to a big pot. The big pot is insufficient. Everything within a two foot radius of you is a mess.
Keep mixing. The cream separates from the coconut fat. The coconut fat congeals into a big lump. At the bottom of the bowl, a grayish liquid gathers.
Throw everything into the sink. The sink is still clogged. The sink is full of dishes even though you did them this morning. The sink is a dark void within a dark kitchen, yawning, eating meal worms and cracked cups and errant stars.
Take a bite out of one of your cake layers. It's hard and too sweet. Throw it across the counter. Throw several other things, for good measure. The meal moths swarm from the cupboard, disturbed. The electricity flickers and goes out.
Good news! The recipient of the cake was a no show.
Retire to the porch to chain smoke for the rest of the day.
Voila! Your cake is done.
