Hot Cocoa

I was feeling optimistic and full of holiday cheer today. I've had a number of gluten-free successes lately, both on the fabrication and consumption sides of things, which always puts me in a positive frame of mind. As loyal readers know, such equanimity often propels me to embark on new baking experiments. Since tomorrow Sir and I are journeying to lower Manhattan to meet The Most Sophisticated Person I Know for Trinity Church's annual Messiah performance, I decided today was the day to launch a fresh culinary project.

Would it end in triumph or heartbreak? I had no idea. In a modest sort of way, it was quite exciting!

But what should I make? I was feeling so unbelievably content I decided I would risk one of the boxed cake mixes I bought during my Whole Foods expedition some while back. The choice: lemon or cocoa cayenne? I was leaning towards lemon, mostly because the box was prettier and the mix had chestnut flour in it, but the Kid Squid, who will go for chocolate every time, voted me down.

Since Christmas is for the young 'uns, I acquiesced and pulled the box (gluten free! certified organic! certified fair trade!) from its pantry shelf, noting that the manufacturer's name sounded like Simply More Panic. I had a sneaking suspicion that failure was in the cards, but such was my ebullience I felt sufficiently robust to withstand even the most crushing disappointment.

I examined the ingredients: organic fair trade sugar (sugar is always the first item on g/f cooking mixes, I have found); organic brown rice flour; organic fair trade dutch cocoa; baking soda; xanthan gum; organic cayenne (really?); sea salt; monocalcium phosphate (neither organic nor fair trade); and organic corn starch. The destructions called for the addition of  two eggs, half a cup of water, and one tablespoon of butter, which I duly supplied - although if I'd wanted to go the vegan route, an alternative recipe called for 'powdered egg replacer' and soy butter. Yikes. I will find out what egg replacer is made from when I have the strength. It was thrilling to see that one serving of the final product would contain a whole gram of dietary fiber, though whether soluble or insoluble I could not tell.

All the organic this and certified that put my teeth on edge, particularly when I opened the box to see the asbestos-lined foil pouch in which the mix was enclosed. That packaging is going to sit in my local landfill for 350 years, at least! Does anybody else detect a certain inconsistency or is it just me?

I punctured the asbestos and dumped the mix into my biggest metal bowl. The powder was very fine and hung visibly in the air for some time. When I foolishly stuck my head over the bowl to get a better look at what I was dealing with, my nasal passages were assaulted by the pepper-filled particles and, choking and snorting in a less-than-fastidious manner, I was forced to retreat. Standing at a safe distance, I sampled a bit of the mix from my right index finger and tasted only cocoa and cayenne.

I added my eggs and water (previously whipped together) and the room temperature butter. The destructions warned sternly against over-beating, but this proved difficult since the butter didn't want to disperse quickly throughout the batter. I stopped when I judged a detente between lumps and sufficient mixing had been reached and was renumerated with a fairly nice, thickish, cake batter. Another quick taste yielded nothing but peppery heat.

This made me suspicious. I have found through prior experimentation that manufactured g/f preparations tend to be sickly sweet, presumably to mask the vile taste of xanthan gum and exotic flours manufacturers feel compelled to use. I assumed that, in this case, the cayenne was taking the sugar's place as Concealer of Dread Flavours and Aromas. Time would tell and I hastened the batter into the oven.

The recipe, strictly speaking, was for twelve cupcakes. I think cupcakes are stupid, so I used my trusty nine-inch round cake pan instead. I buttered the entire pan and lined the bottom with silicon parchment, also buttered. Into my 350 deg F oven for thirty-five minutes, whence it emerged looking and smelling cake-like.

We let it cool a bit, dusted three slices with powdered sugar (Sir added cream to his) and sat down for mid-morning kaffee und kuchen. Upon initial examination, the Cocoa and Cayenne Panic was moist and fine-crumbed. It cut well, did not fall apart all over the plate, and clung to the fork conveniently. So far so good.

The Squid was the first to sample his slice. His expression said it all - but he elaborated (perhaps unnecessarily) with the exclamation 'Gummy!' before putting his plate down and refusing to continue the test. Sir and I persevered. Gummy was certainly an appropriate description, although compared to the Screams of several weeks ago, this incarnation was as nothing. I was more concerned by the grittiness that took over after the gumminess dissipated (the rice flour?) and the way residue accumulated stickily in my molars after a few chews. The initial mild cocoa flavour soon gave way to an overpowering pepperiness, untempered by the sugar or Sir's cream. The manufacturers of the Panic were definitely hiding something - my guess is the dreaded metallic xanthan gum.

What was our verdict? As Sir so wisely put it, 'It's a question of standards.' If we went to a coffee shop and bought a slice for a couple of bucks, we wouldn't send it back. We'd probably feel obliged to eat the whole thing and it would not be an overwhelming hardship to do so, especially if it had a scoop of reasonable ice cream on top. Would I serve it to company? No. Will I keep a box on hand for emergencies? No. I'd much rather bake honest financiers or pumpkin cake (sans xanthan) when a quick treat is required.

So much for the Panic. That still leaves g/f lemon cake mix to try plus additional high-ratio cake experimentation. Am I downhearted?

Of course not - it's the holidays!