Smells like Hawaiian Tropic

My grandmother only made coconut cake on special occasions. To my understanding, they were the confectionery equivalent of Botticelli's Venus in both difficulty of execution and aesthetical beauty. I've come to find out that that supposition wasn't necessarily wrong.

I've made quite a few cakes over the years - not like pro-level or anything, but enough that I'm not usually intimidated by a recipe. Still, there's this one element of a coconut cake that scares me - the icing. My grandmother always made Seven-Minute Frosting for this one cake, so in my mind, there simply isn't an alternative choice. Still, I confess to trying others - the Cook's Illustrated Baking cookbook (indispensable because it's awesome) version is basically a Swiss buttercream with coconut, which I guess if you like that kind of thing, works fine, but it's just too heavy and greasy for me. And tastes kind of like non-dairy coffee creamer. The American buttercream/cream cheese hybrid was fine, but just too heavy. And it crusts, so add coconut to it and it turns into concrete after about 20 minutes.
There's no way around it. The only real option is seven-minute frosting, the white whale of my baking career.
In celebration of my sister- and father-in-law completing an epic bike trip from Pittsburgh to DC, I decided to face my fears and create this cake. For the cake part, I followed (sort of, anyway) a recipe I found online for a sheet cake poached in sugary coconutty goo, even though I fully planned to make layers (and did. And it took 4 drinking straws the hold the darn thing together). As for the filling and frosting, I made one batch of this (whatever you may now think of Paula Deen, the woman does know her way around fat and sugar).
To my surprise and delight, it was perfect. Glossy, thick, fluffy goodness. I had conquered. I had overcome. Call me Ismael.
You knew it wouldn't be that easy, right?
My nephew fell in love with this cake, so much so that he requested me to teach his mom how to make it for his birthday. I had drawn a few conclusions based on the first creation about ways to change the cake part, since the frosting was so perfect.
I should have quit while I was ahead.
Coconut cake 2: The filling didn't penetrate. Not even in the fridge. Part of the cake was dry and part was swampy. And then, there was the heartbreak of the frosting,which instead of the pillowy and silken glory of its predecessor batch, turned out to be a foamy conglomeration of air and egg whites and despair. I tried again, and this time, it was okay. Not the gloriousness of that first try, but not the epic fail of the second. Not willing to do a third batch, we slapped it on the cake before we could change our minds and coated it with coconut, and with the addition of a few candles, it was done.

For the cake

1 boxed yellow cake mix (better results with one that uses oil as the fat rather than butter), prepared as directed, plus
1/2 teaspoon coconut extract
1 can (or bottle) of Cream of Coconut (usually found near the Margarita mix in the grocery store)
1 can sweetened condensed milk

Prepare the cake mix as directed, adding the coconut extract. Pour into pans and bake as instructed. 

In a bowl, combine the cream of coconut and sweetened condensed milk. When the cake is done, remove from the oven and cool for a few minutes, then remove the layers from the cake pans and let them cool for a few minutes. Do not wash those pans yet. Put the cakes back into the their pans and poke holes in them with a straw. I made the mistake of using a fork on the second cake and the filling just would not sink in all the way. 

Use a straw. Pour the cream of coconut and milk mixture over the cakes. If it looks like it's too much, it probably is. I would say use about 3/4 of the mix. I used half on the second cake and I think it suffered for it. Put the pans in the fridge and leave them for at least 2 hours. Overnight worked well.

For the frosting

1 1/2 cups sugar
1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar or 1 tablespoon white corn syrup
1/8 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup water
2 egg whites*
1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

Place sugar, cream of tartar or corn syrup (I used both!), salt, water, and egg whites in the top of a double boiler. Beat with a handheld electric mixer for 1 minute. Place pan over boiling water, being sure that boiling water does not touch the bottom of the top pan. (If this happens, it could cause your frosting to become grainy). Beat constantly on high speed** with electric mixer for 7*** minutes. Beat in vanilla.

Finally

Stack your layers, using some frosting and coconut as the filling. Cover the entire cake with frosting 

and immediately slap coconut all over it. Refrigerate any leftovers. Or send them to my nephew.

Wait. What happened to the first batch of frosting?

Humidity? Metal vs. glass bowl? New mixer? A butterfly flapped its wings in Africa? Really, I don't know, and I'm not sure I ever will. The only thing I can offer in terms of advice for anyone who sets out to make this frosting is to follow the recipe to the letter, and always have enough materials on hand to make another batch. Good luck.

* I buy the ones in the carton - they totally work!

** If you can do this without giving yourself third-degree burns, then your mixer is powered by dying hamsters. Put a mixer on high in this stuff and it will fling the culinary equivalent of napalm all over you and your entire kitchen. Medium. Stick to medium.

*** Yeah, right. It takes me between 9-12 minutes. Just beat it until it's spreadable and not drippy.

The apple of my pie

Today, I have been thinking a lot about my Dad, who passed away in April after a long illness (take care of your liver, people). He loved to cook, although really, he loved for people to eat his cooking. He was a wizard with charcoal.
My father, however, hated cooked apples. It was probably for this reason that prior to going to college, I had never really tried apple pie, and despite an early love of baking, had certainly never made one. So when cooler fall air (finally) started pouring into my unairconditioned dorm, I decided I wanted to try to make one. The trouble was, of course, a communal kitchen (crusted with all sorts of unidentifiable things-including this God-awful dish one girl used to make that involved pasta alfredo and cans of tuna), and the fact that the only measuring device we seemed to be able to find consistently was a 1/3 cup measure. That, and the Internet was still in its infancy, so the days of finding a recipe in .2 seconds were still a couple of years away.

Ultimately, I made a crumb-topped apple pie that came out pretty well, and eventually, grew to have a bit of a fan base with family and friends. I have never, however, really managed to capture the precise measurements of it, probably because of that cursed 1/3 cup measure. So it is actually my intrepid sister-in-law you can thank for pinning me down in the kitchen, shadowing my construction of, and finally committing to printed word the recipe, although I understand that it was not without some trial-and-error. Here is the recipe, as she wrote it.

Crust

Refrigerated pie crust (Mommy: Shut up, all you pie crust elitists)

Filling

1 c sugar

5-6 Tbsp flour

¼-½ tsp nutmeg

1 bag Granny Smith apples

(Mommy: I guess I forgot to tell her that I also add cinnamon here. About a teaspoon, I guess? I always have to lick my finger, stick it in the filling, and taste it to see when it's okay. I know, gross, right? And a pinch of salt. It should look roughly like this:)

Topping

Leftover filling

Add sugar – up to 1 cup

Add flour – about 2 Tbsp

1-2 tsp cinnamon

3-4 Tbsp butter

1.       Put pie crust in pan

2.       Layer filling and apples, starting and ending with filling

3.       Place 2 Tbsp butter on top in small chunks (Mommy: I forget this step all the time)

4.     (Mommy: As the British would say, "rub" all of the topping ingredients together in a bowl with your fingers until the mixture forms crumbs roughly the size of peas.)  

Crumble topping all over pie - Important: Crumble with hands!! 

5.       Bake at 350 for 40-50 minutes

Although you will never master this pie until you can throw out the timer and just smell when it’s done.  Alas, I am not a master. (Mommy: Hmm. This is doubtful.)

Conclusion

I think one of things that makes this pie fun is that the normal "rules" of baking are kind of suspended. You don't have to weight out the grams of anything. You just stick a finger in, and if it tastes right, it probably is. The lesson to be learned from this pie, kind of like my Dad, is to trust yourself, and make do with what you have. Dad never did anything half-way, and never apologized for it, either. It doesn't matter if you get things perfect, it matters that you tried anyway knowing it might not turn out like you were expecting.

So give this recipe a whirl, and make it yours a little bit. Just don't make it with blueberries - I tried and it was wretched.