Mad About Madeleines: Premier Partie

Emboldened by my financier success of two weeks ago and with my spaghetti-testing on hiatus, I decided yesterday to tackle the next gluten-free baking challenge on my docket, madeleines. Madeleines could not be simpler to produce: whip together sugar and eggs until they turn white and triple in volume; add a splash of vanilla; fold in flour, baking powder, and melted butter; invigorate with some grated lemon or orange zest and you are done. The result is a subtle yet complex little cake, slightly dry but aromatic -  perfect with tea a la Proust. The only tricky part might be locating the shell-shaped tins in which madeleines are traditionally baked, but mine are always conveniently stacked on their Metro shelves, ready to go when fever strikes.

I predicted that madeleines would be less amenable to g/f ingredients than financiers had proved to be. For one thing, the proportion of flour was much higher, with no ground almonds to provide added support. The lack of almonds also meant that the aroma and flavor of the flour would be front and center, with no opportunity to hide behind marzipan-y goodness. In the good old days, I baked my madeleines with cake flour, which had both positive and negative implications for my current project. On the one hand, cake flour is very finely milled, which helps to keep the final product light and ethereal. On the other hand, cake flour is low in gluten, which keeps the final product tender. I suspected, therefore, that the lack of gluten in Bob's Red Mill all-purpose flour might not be a problem, but I wasn't sure what the effects of its texture might be. 

First things first. Determined to render the g/f flour as fine as possible, I whizzed it in my food processor, as I often do with granulated sugar. The outer electrons in the flour molecules objected to this treatment, however, and  rewarded me by clinging to the food processor bowl in unsightly lumps, so charged that I had difficulty removing them from my silicon spatula. I discarded the machine and sifted the flour several times through my finest mesh sieve until I was satisfied that it was as minute as I could make it.

I then proceeded as I had during the financier experiment, adding one-quarter of a teaspoon of Xanthan gum to half the dry ingredients (3 oz, or just over half a cup of flour). Whereas during my previous investigation the effects of Xanthan were only discernible after baking, its presence this time was perceived at once. When I poured the non-Xanthaned batter into its shell shapes, it went spludge and flattened out immediately to the edges of the tins. The Xanthaned batter, however, was fulsomely thick, and needed to be spooned (rather than poured) into its molds, where it held its shape as a cake mixture should, with a lovely little mound in the center.

Into the oven! The non-Xanthaned cakes required a solid three minutes of extra cooking, but that may have been the result of their initial placement on the bottom oven shelf. At the end of baking, the Xanthaned cakes were more evenly browned, more risen, and springier to the touch than the others, which, in addition to being flatter and paler, stuck to the pan in an irritating way when it came time to remove them.

Aerial view of the finished cakes:
the more physically appealing Xanthaned specimen is on the right

The proof of the madeleines is in the eating, I always say. Sir, currently gallivanting around Tokyo, could not attend the subsequent tasting, but the Kid Squid and KSGP (see Financiers: Part 1) were both available. Fortuitously, the 'Rents showed up for a surprise visit and enthusiastically agreed to take part. I asked for comments regarding appearance, texture, taste, and overall appeal. Concerned about subjects' preconceptions, I did not inform the tasters which cakes contained the Xanthan.

The results were unanimous, intriguing, and not a little troubling:

• Non-Xanthaned madeleines. Five out of five tasters agreed they were less appealing to look at than the Xanthaned cakes, with flat, almost concave bottoms and large pores. The flavour was described as 'sweet,' 'good,' 'buttery,' and 'melt-in-your-mouth.' Every taster agreed that the cakes had an unexpected texture that was slightly gritty or sandy, which HSR likened to cornbread (hastily adding that it was 'not unpleasant,' which I call damning with faint praise). The general consensus was that they were fine little cakes, but texturally inconsistent with madeleines.
• Xanthaned madeleines. Five out of five tasters agreed they were beguiling to look at, with a more evenly-browned, slightly crisper crust and uniform texture, which DMR (who kindly left me her tasting notes) described as 'airy.' She was moved to dunk hers in her tea, where it unexpectedly dissolved and disappeared forever - an important finding! All the tasters, given the greater physical appeal of the Xanthaned cakes, were (I believe) unpleasantly surprised by their eating quality. The cakes proved 'blander' and 'less tasty' than the others, with a metallic aftertaste not unlike some artificial sweeteners. HSR reported that the residue irksomely coated his molars and I myself felt the need to brush my teeth shortly afterwards. 

The airiness of the Xanthaned cake
may be clearly seen on the right

In summary, all the tasters preferred the flavour and mouth-feel (despite the slight grittiness) of the non-Xanthaned cakes over the Xanthaned ones, despite the latters' advantages in appearance and texture. The Kid Squid, ever truthful, said he wouldn't eat either of them very happily in the future, but the rest of the panel found sufficient appeal in the non-Xanthaned cakes to eat them if tendered on subsequent visits.

I believe there is still room for improvement and will be refining the procedure during future trials. It is possible that the addition of less Xanthan gum will provide textural benefits without detriment to flavor. I will also try using a different, perhaps less aggressive g/f flour mixture (there are several on the market, plus many formuli for creating one's own). The recipe will be withheld until perfection has been achieved and I am able to produce a little cake worthy of the name madeleine.