The Great British Baking Show's Sarawak Style Cake–can I make a kek lapis?

Last week I watched the Great British Baking Show episode 7, “Festival Week” in which the contestants have to make a Sarawak style cake.  When the hosts announced that this was a cake in which the layers were grilled, my jaw dropped, wondering if they were going to have stove-top grills, or set up outdoors.

It turns out “grilled” is a Britishism for “broiled” (or else “broiled” is an Americanism for “grilled”–you know what I mean.) Even so, I’d never seen a cake broiled layer by layer, nor one that gets cut up and reassembled like a strip-pieced quilt to create colorful geometric patterns. It seemed such an odd way to create a thinly layered, colorful cake that of course I had to try the technique myself.

I had no ambitions to go the whole way and create a mosaic made of cake. I just wanted to make a colorful layered cake using this completely new (to me) method. So I looked up some recipes.

Quite a few of the recipes for sarawak kek lapis were not in English, which makes sense since it is apparently a Malaysian specialty. I did find one in English that didn’t take a dozen eggs to make–only seven. (Kek Lapis–Indonesian Layer Cake.) The layers weren’t colored and it seemed very mildly spiced, but I tried it, adding orange zest and cardamom and food coloring to make alternating layers.

Unfortunately, I was so nervous about overcooking the layers that I ended up undercooking them. When I tasted the edges, I realized that I hadn’t flavored it enough either. It did have pretty layers, though, where they weren’t gooey and underbaked.

Attempt at a sarawak kek lapis style cake with pink and yellow layersView of the layers of attempt at sarawak kek lapis cake

Something about the process of piling batter upon partially cooked batter made me think of pancakes. You know how the underside of a pancake shows where the first scoop of batter landed, and where subsequent additions of batter spread out from it? I decided to try making a version of kek lapis using pancake batter. I used an extra egg, thinking it would cook more quickly that way, and some extra sugar (pancakes aren’t very sweet by themselves.) I divided the batter into four bowls and colored them brightly.

I did get layers, albeit very, very uneven ones, and I did cook it all the way through. However, the result was very eggy, like the inside of a popover, only heavier. While I like popovers, I don’t like heavy, eggy cakes. The second try at a Sarawak style cake ended up in the compost like the first.

A four-layered attempt at making a sarawak style cake using pancake batter in green, yellow, pink and blue

Finally I decided to use a familiar cake recipe, a hot-milk sponge cake from the Better Homes and Gardens (1996) cookbook. It’s a very sweet cake, but reasonably airy and light on butter, so I thought it might do. Also, it requires only two eggs and doesn’t require that the whites be separated out and whipped, which makes it a lot easier that the first kek lapis recipe. I added orange zest, then divided the batter into four bowls and added cocoa powder to two of them and food coloring to the other two.

Oops–stirring in the cocoa and food coloring definitely took away some of the carefully fluffed up volume. As the bowls of batter sat waiting their turn in the oven, I could see bubbles appearing on the surface. Not good. Perhaps I should have waited to stir in the color of each bowl until just before pouring it into the pan.

After baking–I mean broiling–the layers, I put the cake in the center of the oven at a more usual 350 to finish baking. I didn’t want another underbaked cake.

The result? Very uneven layers, but layers nonetheless. And with the orange zest, cocoa powder, and huge amount of sugar–a moderately tasty cake.

Hot-milk sponge cake with orange and cocoa layers, broiled like sarawak cake

I’m not sure when I would actually need such a cake, but perhaps I might want squares of colorful cake for some festive occasion.

Squares of hot-milk sponge cake with orange and cocoa layers, broiled like sarawak cake

Now that I’ve finally created an edible cake in the style of sarawak kek lapis–or at least the first stage of a kek lapis–I think I can move on to other baked goods. Time to watch some more Great British Baking Show!

Till next post.

Reflections on The Roly-Poly Pudding, by Beatrix Potter

In a previous blog post, I mentioned The Tale of Samuel Whiskers, orThe Roly-Poly Pudding, by Beatrix Potter, and how it had left me afraid of giant rats at bedtime. (I incorrectly called it The Tale of Tom Kitten, which is a different story about the hapless Tom.)
I don’t regret having read The Roly-Poly Pudding when I did (third or fourth grade?). I knew perfectly well that our house had no rats and that I was much bigger than a rat in any case. Considering that I then went on to read collections of Strange But True and other explicitly scary stories, I can’t have been too upset about it.
I just reread The Roly-Poly Pudding, as I have done a number of times before, and it’s such a fun story that I decided to blog about it.
It starts like this:
Once upon a time, there was an old cat, called Mrs. Tabitha Twitchit, who was an anxious parent.
As a child, I never thought much about her name or about her being “an anxious parent.” Looking at the colored plates (illustrations) now, I can see that she is in fact a tabby (“Tabitha”) who probably has a tail that twitches a lot (“Twitchit”.) As for her being an anxious parent, it makes sense that a cat of that time period would have great concerns for the safety of her kittens. On top of that, we learn that her kittens are constantly getting away from her and getting into trouble. No wonder she’s worried. So she takes steps.
On baking day she determined to shut them up in a cupboard.
Why on baking day, particularly? Because she will be too busy to keep an eye on them? Because they will get their paws in the dough? (Turns out she has reason to worry about that.)
I notice that she isn’t the only mother in Beatrix Potter’s stories to have a mischievous child. Mrs. Rabbit has Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-tail, and Peter. We all know what Peter is like. And while all Mrs. Twitchit’s kittens have tendency to get into trouble, on this baking day it is Tom Kitten who is missing.
So she pops Moppet and Mittens in the cupboard and goes in search of Tom.
It was an old, old house, full of cupboards and passages. Some of the walls were four feet thick, and there used to be queer noises inside them, as if there might be a little secret staircase. Certainly there were odd little jagged doorways in the wainscot, and things disappeared at night—especially cheese and bacon.
Spooky! Even now it gives me a little chill. And Mrs. Twitchit seems very worried indeed.
Naturally, now that her back is turned, Moppet and Mittens get themselves into mischief, sneaking out of the cupboard and getting into the bread dough.
They patted it with their soft little paws—“Shall we make dear little muffins?” said Mittens to Moppet.
Cats love to pat anything squishy, hence the term “kneading” and also the expression “making biscuits”. Or in this case, muffins.
Then Cousin Ribby shows up, a no-nonsense disciplinarian. When Mrs. Twitchit moans that Tom is missing and she is afraid the rats have got him, Cousin Ribby says
“I will help you find him; and whip him, too!”
Cousin Ribby isn’t afraid of rats. She’s also a sharp observer, more so than Mrs. Twitchit.
“What is all that soot in the fender?”
Mrs. Twitchit probably should have paid more attention.
At any rate, they find Moppet and Mittens and learn that a lump of dough has been stolen by a rat–along with a pat of butter and the rolling pin! Mrs. Twitchit wrings her paws, while Ribby remembers that they heard a roly-poly noise in the attic.
“This is serious, Cousin Tabitha,” said Ribby. “We must send for John Joiner at once, with a saw.”
Now that we’re properly worried, we are given Tom Kitten’s side of things.
…and it shows how very unwise it is to go up a chimney in a very old house, where a person does not know his way, and where there are enormous rats.
Yes, enormous rats. Certainly by comparison to a kitten.
The description of Tom’s journey through the system of interconnected chimneys/flues sounds unpleasantly dark and confined. He can’t go back the way he came, because the fire has been lit and it will be too hot and smoky. So he keeps on and finds a loose stone and very tight passage beyond, and then falls right through the floor.
…he found himself in a place that he had never seen before, although he had lived all his life in the house.
It’s that kind of house. Spooky!
Unfortunately, he’s in Samuel Whiskers’ bedroom and in no time he is tied up by Anna Maria “in very hard knots.” Then the rats argue about whether roly-poly pudding is properly made with butter and dough, or with bread crumbs, and off they go to get the ingredients. No one hears his muffled cries
Except a spider, which came out of a crack in the ceiling and examined the knots critically, from a safe distance.
The poor kitten is buttered and wrapped in dough, though Samuel Whiskers seems to be having doubts, both about the digestibility of the string and all the soot.
“I do not think it will be a good pudding. It smells sooty.”
Fortunately rescue is here—John Joiner with his saw! Samuel Whiskers knows when to leave.
“We are discovered and interrupted, Anna Maria; let us collect our property—and other people’s,–and depart at once.”
A happy yet practical ending ensues. The stolen dough is not wasted–it is peeled off and made into a pudding, with currants added to disguise the fact that it has bits of soot in it.  Meanwhile, Tom Kitten gets a hot bath—not the usual sort of bath for a cat—to wash the butter off him.
I said the ending is happy, but that isn’t entirely true. Tom Kitten has suffered a traumatic experience, and it has left its mark. While his siblings grow up into excellent ratters,
…Tom Kitten has always been afraid of a rat; he never durst face anything that is bigger than—a Mouse.
 Till next post.

Mandarin Eggnog Custard—puzzling over clementines and thinking about my favorite flavor combination

In November, a family’s fancy turns to clementines. These cute, peelable oranges are bright and festive, not to mention Santa’s trademark (at least according to the Dr Who 2014 Christmas special.) So perhaps it makes sense that I have been thinking about them recently.
Clementines used to come in nifty wooden crates that were so iconic that the comic Rhymes With Orange had a strip about them. Now they show up in mesh bags labeled “Halos”, or “Cuties”, and seem to be around for a longer time. Sometimes the clementines are very, very good, and sometimes they are not. Are these all the same fruit?
My husband and I used to think maybe it was their origin. Some of the best ones seemed to come from Spain. Or was it the time of year that mattered? Right around Thanksgiving was the time for the best clementines. And what is a clementine anyway?
After browsing online, I discovered that (a) clementines are a kind of small mandarin, along with tangerines (which might be a catch-all term for larger mandarins) and something called a satsuma. I also discovered that (b) there are many varieties of small mandarin, and the bags labeled “Halo”or “Cutie”, which come from California, may contain different varieties depending on the time of year.
Good to know! I’ve been enjoying the Halos after being disappointed by Sun Pacific (?) early on, but apparently by February the Halos will actually be a different variety of mandarin from the ones I am getting now. I wonder if that is the reason they seem so good early in the season, and disappointing later on. Perhaps I like the earlier varieties better. Also, perhaps the Sun Pacific mandarins wouldn’t have disappointed me had I tried them later on when they were a different variety.
Last post, I described making a braided bread based on a hot cross bun recipe using (one of ) my favorite flavor combinations: orange, lemon, cinnamon, and nutmeg. I was thinking about this flavor combination when I was doing laundry this week. The laundry soap I was using was Indigo Wild’s Sea Salt, and I started wondering if the scent had a hint of nutmeg in it. (It also reminded faintly of Coca-Cola and A-1 steak sauce, which I swear have something in common, even though my family doesn’t notice any resemblance.)
So I decided to take just part of my favorite flavor combo and work on an orange and nutmeg pudding. Nutmeg is a big part of the appeal of eggnog, which is a seasonal flavor, and clementines also go with Christmas (and I still had some in the house), so it could be a festive Christmas pudding (only not in the British sense.)
Mandarin-nutmeg custard in teacups
Mandarin-nutmeg custard in cups
The first version was a regular cornstarch pudding with mandarin zest and nutmeg, but it looked and tasted a bit thin for something that was supposed to be festive. Also, without eggs, it wasn’t really eggnoggy. So I tried a custard version, combining elements from microwave vanilla pudding and Dangerously Easy Vanilla Custard, to get a Mandarin Eggnog Custard which was pretty good.
The recipe is as follows:
Stir together in 4-cup glass measuring cup
  • 3 Tblsp cornstarch
  • 3 Tblsp sugar
  • ¼ tsp nutmeg
  • 2 cups milk
  • 2 egg yolks
  • 1 Tblsp heavy cream (if you have it)
(I prefer to mix the dry stuff, mix in some of the milk, mix in the eggs, then add the remaining milk and cream. But suit yourself.)
Then zest and set aside the zest of
  • 1 clementine/small mandarin
I love my microplane grater!
Microwave 1 minute, then for 20 seconds at a time, stirring with whisk after each till it thickens.
When mixture thickens, add the zest and microwave 10 seconds more before pouring into bowls or cups and allowing to cool.
Mixture before microwaving
Mixture after microwaving
This makes a very thick custard. If you want it thinner, try adding less cornstarch. I probably didn’t need to add quite so much.
I haven’t yet tried adding vanilla. If you try a mandarin-nutmeg-vanilla custard, let me know how it works.
Till next post.