Choco-Pan v. Satin Ice, Part Duex

It is with a sense of chagrin that I write this as I recently realized I never followed up on my Choco-Pan v. Satin Ice quandary. Not that I expect many of you were on the edge of your seat, anxiously awaiting my findings…but still. I shouldn’t leave loops open like this.

So here’s the background. When I first started baking anything close to fancy looking cakes (opposed to just fancy tasting), I experimented with fondant — primarily because my buttercream icing skills leave just about everything to be desired. Fondant is, first and foremost, sugar, water and corn syrup. It is a curious saccharine thing and hopelessly in-fashion among the cake world, initially popularized by the likes of Martha Stewart before spreading throughout the entire, predatory wedding industry. When most people taste it, it generally ranks up there with eating paste–assuming paste is still passé for those over 4. It’s all the more disappointing when you finally gnaw through the exquisitely decorated fondant to find, within, a sawdust cake-block smeared with a scant offering of flavored buttercream. But that’s a digression for another time.

First I tried, (and quickly abandoned) Wilton, as I dislike the taste of caulk. Sorry, Wilton. So, through recommendations and experimentation, I now toggle between Choco-Pan and Satin Ice. Let’s discuss:

Choco-Pan

It bills itself as a “white chocolate” fondant, and actually does taste a lot like white chocolate (which isn’t saying much in chocolate snobbery circles, but is worthwhile in this application). While the taste won’t eclipse what’s inside, it has a present taste. That is to say, it is not merely sweet, but also flavored and therefore has a stronger sweetness than other fondants. Put simply, it can set your teeth to rattling. But as a result, it happily lacks that chemical sweetener taste that accompanies other fondants, which I appreciate.

On the “white chocolate” front, a scan of the ingredients leaves me wondering where the “Choco” comes into the picture: sugar, corn syrup, vegetable shortening, partially hydrogenated palm kernel oil, nonfat milk powder, soy lecithin, monoglycerides, water, titanium dioxide and artificial flavor. I’m left with the impression that I could just flavor any fondant with white chocolate artificial flavor and get the same taste results, though I suppose the milk powder and shortening also plays into the milkfat flavor. It’s not so much made from white chocolate, as it’s made with things that also make white chocolate.

On the consistency front, it can be rolled out quite thin and, in able hands, transfers well to the cake without tears and stretch marks. Its mouth-feel is fairly smooth and it dissolves nicely without leaving much of a sweet coating behind. I find it dries rather quickly, which can work for you and against you. In terms of appearance, I’ve only used this fondant in Wedding White and then with my own coloring, but the end product has been a matte finish that looks very classy.

Satin Ice

It’s decidedly (and perhaps refreshingly) less sweet than Choco-Pan, but the trade-off is that you can taste the starch. The ingredients are also more complex and alien: sugar, corn syrup, modified food starch, water, partially hydrogenated soybean oil, artificial flavor, gum tragacanth, glycerine, acetic acid, potassium sorbate, titanium dioxide, cellulose gum, (and because I purchased red and black) food coloring. If you’re into organic, this will probably give you pause.

Much like Choco-Pan, the Satin Ice product is reflective of its name. Both in mouth-feel and in how it rolls out, this fondant has a slicker texture. Biting into it, it dissolves quickly from a fine grain to a slick paste that sticks with your teeth longer than Choco-Pan. Which sounds disgusting when I write it out, but it’s actaully a perfectly fine and edible process.

The rolled product also has a kind of sheen to it (although I was using intensely pre-colored versions, and therefore the comparison to my Choco-Pan experience is less reliable). It transfered easily to cover the cake, though I could not roll it out as thin without it stretching. The end product had a mostly matte finish, but there was a decidedly brighter look to the fondant and how it caught the light.

And so…?

Which do I ultimately prefer? I’m still working on that one. The price has a small variable with a 2-lb. bucket of Choco-Pan costing about $2 more than with Satin Ice. But that’s less of a determinant for me than how the end product looks and tastes. When I settle on one (or if I unearth other favorites), I’ll be sure to let you know. Until then, I’ll be perusing Into The Oven for varieties (both in color and flavor) for the two fondants. Choco-Pan has a caramel flavor that I’m intrigued by, and the array of colors for satin Ice makes me want to do more kids’ birthday parties.

Until then, may your cake always rise and your soufflé never fall.

The Ladybug Express

Now that would be a charming name for a rail line, don’t you think? But alas, it is only a cake. In this case, one I made for a baby shower.

The theme: ladybugs. The components: strawberry biscuit roulade outer layer; three layer of pound cake; white chocolate cream cheese filling; fresh strawberries; covered in vanilla fondant. Or: 16 eggs, 2 pounds of butter, 2 pounds of cream cheese, 1.5 pounds of white chocolate…shall I continue?

I’ll let the pictures speak for the process, save for a little captioning:

First, the finished product

Continue reading

Choco-Pan v. Satin Ice?

So anyone out there have opinions on the virtues of Choco-Pan v. Satin Ice? I’m talking fondant here: the Play-Doh-like substance that covers wedding cakes so nicely and allows people like me — who turn Italian buttercream into a baby vomit-like substance right out of the gate — to actually decorate a cake with some measure of confidence. It’s what you see on virtually every “cake challenge” on the Food Network. It’s what allows Duff of Charm City Cakes to make such outrageous edible art.

Here’s one of my own fondant-covered creations:

I’m starting my ingrediant-gathering for a ladybug cake. And since black is among the most difficult of colors to get right, I’m going to buy the fondant pre-colored. I’ve been a Choco-Pan girl from the start, but I might only be able to get Satin Ice for the black. Anyone have strong opinons on the taste, workability or outcome? If so, please comment.

****Read my conclusion on the Choco v. Satin debate!

Smells Like Burnt Nirvana

There’s this moment when chocolate mousse actually becomes chocolate mousse in baking process that I relish. I’ll call people in from other rooms so they can stand over my shoulder and witness the exact moment when the foamy, crinkling egg whites completely dissipate into the chocolaty, yolky, thinkness of the mixture, all by my simple, patient folding. I consider it, in all honesty, to be a magical baking moment.

Ganache carries with it a similar thrill. The general ratio for a standard chocolate ganache is 1:1 heavy cream and chocolate. The process is simple:

  • Finely chop the chocolate and place in a bowl
  • Heat the cream to just before a simmer
  • Pout hot cream over chocolate
  • Stir gently ’til fully mixed

Just as with mousse, this is where the magic happens with ganache as well. For the first minute, the whole mess looks like just that — a mess. Half-melted lines of chocolate swimming in tan-toned cream; a bowl of sweet-smelling dreck. Then you blink, or turn away to watch the cat do something cute, or answer the phone and SWOOSH! One last stir around the bowl and the mixture knits itself together in a sea of ganachey goodness. Oh sigh…

Of course, it’s not always nirvana. I made a chocolate hazelnut torte on Tuesday wherein the primary ingredient is Nutella. And for the top, a Frangelico-tinged chocolate ganache poured over to set up into a thick layer of loveliness. But I was in a rush; wanted to get to bed; had dreams to dream and snores to snore. So I committed what I would dub a Kitchen Crime: I hurried my ganache. I nagged nirvana.

I tossed the half-heartedly chopped chocolate into a little pot, poured in the cream, measured out a bit of liquor and flipped on the gas flame. And promptly burnt the ever-lovin’ cocoa nibs out of my chocolate.

A few things to remember, folks: Chocolate starts to melt at 80-degrees F, which, if you touched it to your lip, would feel as cold as an ice cube. If chocolate is hot to the touch, you’re in trouble. Chocolate burns at 123-degrees F. And just like when chocolate gets cold, chocolate that gets burned also thickens and hardens as the milk solids change formation. All this is to say… well… I wish I could say I committed this Kitchen Crime in the name of blog-education, but I won’t lie. The pictures tell the story best, anyway:

Bad Ganache
Bad Ganache

Good Ganache made in repentance and poured over torte, side-by-side with bad ganache as a little reminder of my failure:

Good Ganache

The pictures aren’t amazing because they’re taken with the most fickle camera in the world that either takes amazing shots or ruins everything. But I think you get the idea.

Variations:

  • Add liquor when cream is heated (Frangelico, Chamboard, spiced rum all work well)
  • Though when originally combining the cream and chocolate you want to stir gently, after the ganache forms you can vary the consistency from fudgey and pourable (like above) or whipped and spreadable. The more your stir, the more air you work into the ganache and the more whipped and spreadable (like icing) it becomes.
  • Get the best of both worlds: set half of it aside, stir the other half until it’s nice and airy, fill the cake layers with the whipped version and then pour the more fudgy version over top to ice the whole thing.

Pumpkin Buns: Stage One

I promised the recipe for my Pumpkin Buns, and so I come today to deliver…in stages. First, I give you the recipe for Choux Paste, which is the dough that makes the bun-like container for the dessert. These are eggy and not too sweet, and you may know them better as cream puffs, sans the cream.

On a scale of 1 to 5, I would rate these a 3.5 for difficulty for one reason alone — the choux requires a degree of judgment for when the dough is ready, rather than a measure of minutes. Otherwise, this is a silly-simple recipe.

Pumpkin Buns:Choux Paste (the bun part)

1 C milk

4 oz. butter, small piece

7 oz. AP flour

1/2 t. salt

5 large eggs

(water to adjust)

How to:

  • Combine milk and butter in saucepan, bring to a full boil. Butter should be melted by the time it boils.

 

  • Add flour and salt once milk mixture comes to a full boil. *Flour will not absorb all liquid if not at full boil.

 

  • Take off heat. Stir until it the dough looks a bit like a limp of firm mashed potatos, or for you Germans in the audience, a kenerdle.

 

  • Return to heat, stirring, until it steams and just begins to stick to bottom. *It will “crack” like PlayDoh.

 

  • Transfer to a mixing bowl with paddle attachment. Stir to cool. *Eggs added to hot dough will cook, resulting in no structure for later in the baking process. Dough does not need to be cold…just warmish.
  • Add eggs one at a time. With each egg, dough will first look sloppy and wet, then suddenly the egg will incorporate to form a kind of batter. If dough is still too thick, add water 1 Tablespoon at a time to get it to a smooth state. How do you know it’s at a smooth state?….

Three tests for Choux paste

a. Turn off mixer and you want to see the paste actually slump (no pic as a “slump” is hard to capture)

b. Pull up the mixer paddle, see if it the paste coats the beater and comes to a point.

 

 

c. Pull finger through the paste to make a canyon, see if the edges curve in slightly.

Piping the Choux

Fill a pastry bag (or ziplock bag) with choux paste. Pipe from a large-ish hole onto parchment covered baking sheet.

Egg wash ( one whole egg, beaten) *Do not get wash on paper or choux will stick as it rises.

Dip a fork in water and make indents across tops of buns (like with peanut butter cookies) for expansion as the dough rises in the oven.

Place in oven at 375-400° for 15-18 min. for buns piped to the size of a donut hole. (Larger buns, like the ones I made, require about 10 extra minutes.)

 

 

 

 


Stages of baking for choux:

1) doubles in size in the first 12-14 minutes (!!!Do not open oven at all during this first baking period!!!)2) bakes in pace for next 3-4 minutes*Note.

They’ll pop right off the parchment. You’ll find you can split them very easily to make two halves, and even dig out the guts a little to make a deeper container for when you put things like pastry cream or mousse inside. Or, poke a hole in the bottom and fill them using a pastry tube and bag.

*These freeze nicely in a bag. To defrost, pop in oven @ 300° until warm. They do not make a yield, they are merely a batch depending on how large you pipe them.

Pumpkin Buns

No, it’s not a cloying endearment. It’s the working title of the dessert I made for Thanksgiving.

And since it’s rather late and I’m suffering from a Turducken coma (yes…my father-in-law succumbed to the barbaric bird-within-a-bird-within-a-bird trend, courtesy of Whole Foods), I think I’ll just give you readers the basics of what I made. Tomorrow I’ll write up a better break-down.

Ooh…I like that: “write up a break-down.” Could be a song lyric…

I digress.

Pumpkin Buns
(Choux buns filled with pumpkin-pie pastry cream severed with nutmeg cream and candied pecans)

An "Origins" Story

When I was a kid….

Every year, about a month before my birthday, I started my research. I poured over the book….the bookSupercookery!, 1976 edition for hours at a time. Nearly every recipe had a picture. From bread to bunt cake, all in full, four-color glory, so perfectly rendered my teeth would ache from the anticipation of the sugar rush.

I delineated my favorites with strips of notebook paper and whittled away at the choices, making pro/con lists, until I could narrow it down. Down to one, splendiferous cake that embodied everything it meant to turn 9…10…11…12……

One year it was a Bûche de Noël; another, a maple-nut tower; one required a chocolate collar of alternating white and dark stripes. Always the most decadent, complicated one I could find. And always—always—my mom accepted the challenge with a smile.

It’s only now, a decade or two later, that I’ve come to realize her smile was probably closer to a grimace.

My love of baking (or rather, having things baked for me) began in those early years watching my mom wrestle with Génoise, but it evolved over time to an actual love of the labor. (Coincidentally or not, it also happened around the time my mom declared herself done with the hobby.)

For me, baking has become something more than dessert. It’s restful and rewarding; therapy that ends with a big slab of cake. I’ve baked my way through break-ups, job searches and wedding-planning woes. I’ve experimented on friends, family and co-workers. I’ve made wedding cakes for dear friends with fear in my heart and the same smile plastered to my face that my mom used to wear. I’ve even taken and subsequently interned for a professional pastry course.

To what end?

I don’t know yet. I think that’s part of why I’m writing this blog with a third of the content devoted to the combination of eggs, sugar and flour—to figure out where this passion will ultimately fit into my life.

But until I come to some conclusion, I’ll be content making the people I love full and happy. A fine goal, I believe.