As part of the dessert menu for our St. Patrick's Day party at our office, I decided to make a highly-rated recipe from The New York Times: The Marrow's Ginger Stout Cake. I figured it would be an easy project and I think that Bundt cakes are always nice for parties. For the stout, I used a bottle of Samuel Smith Organic Chocolate Stout that I had picked up at Calvert-Woodley. A fews prior I had been thinking about making a chocolate cake with the stout, hence the chocolate stout. But I figured it would be just fine for the gingerbread.
I prepared my Bundt pan well by brushing every nook and cranny with a generous layer of softened butter, followed by a coating of turbinado sugar. After dealing with the pan, I spent a long time peeling and grating ginger, using a Japanese ceramic grater. The cake requires three tablespoons of grated ginger, which is a lot. Normally I try to pick all (or at least most) of the fibers out of grated ginger, but here I needed so much and I was so tired from all of peeling and grating that I just gave up.
This cake also requires a lot of mixing. I put the fibrous pile of ginger in a bowl and mixed it with eggs, vanilla, dark brown sugar, and granulated sugar for five minutes. Then I added canola oil and mixed for another five minutes. After adding a mixture of stout and molasses that had been brought to a simmer, with baking soda added afterwards, I mixed for another five minutes. The ginger fibers kept accumulating on the paddle of my stand mixer; the same thing often happens when I mix citrus zest into a thin batter. Finally, I added the dry ingredients (all-purpose flour, ground ginger, cinnamon, cloves, grated nutmeg, ground black pepper, allspice, and salt) and mixed until incorporated. The batter was extremely thin. I poured it into the prepared pan and baked the cake until a skewer came out clean.
I followed the recipe directions to cool the cake for 15 minutes before unmolding it. I turned the Bundt pan upside down and nothing happened. I shook it vigorously. Still nothing. I ran a thin flexible plastic spatula between the cake and the pan, both along the outer edge and around the tube in the middle. The cake was still stuck. Finally I was able to pry the cake out -- at least, most of it. Large patches of the top of the cake remained stuck in the bottom of the pan. The cake looked horrible and I knew I couldn't serve it like that.
My first thought was to throw the cake in the compost bin. But then I scraped out some of the cake that was stuck to the pan and tasted it. It was incredible -- sticky, aggressively spicy, and covered with an amazing crunchy coarse sugar crust. I immediately decided I had to salvage the cake in some form; it was too delicious to throw away. So I decided to convert it into a trifle.
I figured that gingerbread trifle was probably a thing, but if you Google "gingerbread trifle," the top recipes that show up generally involve ingredients like pudding mix, gingerbread mix, Cool Whip, and pumpkin pie filling. I wanted something a bit more sophisticated. I found a recipe on Food & Wine for a Gingerbread and White Chocolate Mousse Trifle and decided to layer cubes of my failed gingerbread Bundt with that white chocolate mousse.
The first step to make the white chocolate mousse is making custard from cream, milk, lemon zest, salt, and a tempered mixture of egg yolks and sugar. While the custard is hot, you add softened gelatin and melted white chocolate; I used Cacao Barry Zéphyr Caramel. You cool the mixture to room temperature, fold in whipped cream beaten to soft peaks, and chill. After my mousse was set, I layered it with cubes of gingerbread in five-ounce plastic cups. I had enough mousse to make 26 servings, and I had fair amount of cake left over. The trifles looked a bit bare without any garnish, so I topped them with a little chopped candied ginger.
I was relieved that the trifles were a bit hit at the party. A co-worker sent me an email afterwards declaring, "OMG the gingerbread trifle is DIVINE." Tom and I also really enjoyed these trifles. I was surprised how well the lemon zest complimented the white chocolate, and the mousse was simultaneously full-flavored and light. I have become a huge of fan of caramelized white chocolate and it worked incredibly well here. The silky smooth mousse is a wonderful counterpoint to the spicy gingerbread. Oddly enough, the overall flavor of the trifle reminded me a lot of pumpkin pie, notwithstanding the complete absence of pumpkin. I guess it was the composition of the spice mix and the creaminess of the mousse. But this would be a great dessert for Thanksgiving.
There was only one downside to using the cake in a trifle. I thought that the best part of the gingerbread was the super chewy outer crust, especially the crunchy and delightfully sweet portions embedded with turbinado sugar. Tom and I ate our trifles about 24 hours after assembly, and all of the cake was soft after being in contact with the mousse. All of the wonderful flavors were still there, but I missed the chewy-crunchy crust.
Still, I was delighted with how well these trifles came out, especially because I was almost ready to write off the ginger cake entirely. It was wonderful to be able to turn a failed baking project into a successful dessert!
Recipes: "The Marrow's Ginger Stout Cake" from The New York Times; and the mousse portion of this "Gingerbread and White Chocolate Mousse Trifle" recipe from Food & Wine.
I prepared my Bundt pan well by brushing every nook and cranny with a generous layer of softened butter, followed by a coating of turbinado sugar. After dealing with the pan, I spent a long time peeling and grating ginger, using a Japanese ceramic grater. The cake requires three tablespoons of grated ginger, which is a lot. Normally I try to pick all (or at least most) of the fibers out of grated ginger, but here I needed so much and I was so tired from all of peeling and grating that I just gave up.
This cake also requires a lot of mixing. I put the fibrous pile of ginger in a bowl and mixed it with eggs, vanilla, dark brown sugar, and granulated sugar for five minutes. Then I added canola oil and mixed for another five minutes. After adding a mixture of stout and molasses that had been brought to a simmer, with baking soda added afterwards, I mixed for another five minutes. The ginger fibers kept accumulating on the paddle of my stand mixer; the same thing often happens when I mix citrus zest into a thin batter. Finally, I added the dry ingredients (all-purpose flour, ground ginger, cinnamon, cloves, grated nutmeg, ground black pepper, allspice, and salt) and mixed until incorporated. The batter was extremely thin. I poured it into the prepared pan and baked the cake until a skewer came out clean.
I followed the recipe directions to cool the cake for 15 minutes before unmolding it. I turned the Bundt pan upside down and nothing happened. I shook it vigorously. Still nothing. I ran a thin flexible plastic spatula between the cake and the pan, both along the outer edge and around the tube in the middle. The cake was still stuck. Finally I was able to pry the cake out -- at least, most of it. Large patches of the top of the cake remained stuck in the bottom of the pan. The cake looked horrible and I knew I couldn't serve it like that.
My first thought was to throw the cake in the compost bin. But then I scraped out some of the cake that was stuck to the pan and tasted it. It was incredible -- sticky, aggressively spicy, and covered with an amazing crunchy coarse sugar crust. I immediately decided I had to salvage the cake in some form; it was too delicious to throw away. So I decided to convert it into a trifle.
The first step to make the white chocolate mousse is making custard from cream, milk, lemon zest, salt, and a tempered mixture of egg yolks and sugar. While the custard is hot, you add softened gelatin and melted white chocolate; I used Cacao Barry Zéphyr Caramel. You cool the mixture to room temperature, fold in whipped cream beaten to soft peaks, and chill. After my mousse was set, I layered it with cubes of gingerbread in five-ounce plastic cups. I had enough mousse to make 26 servings, and I had fair amount of cake left over. The trifles looked a bit bare without any garnish, so I topped them with a little chopped candied ginger.
I was relieved that the trifles were a bit hit at the party. A co-worker sent me an email afterwards declaring, "OMG the gingerbread trifle is DIVINE." Tom and I also really enjoyed these trifles. I was surprised how well the lemon zest complimented the white chocolate, and the mousse was simultaneously full-flavored and light. I have become a huge of fan of caramelized white chocolate and it worked incredibly well here. The silky smooth mousse is a wonderful counterpoint to the spicy gingerbread. Oddly enough, the overall flavor of the trifle reminded me a lot of pumpkin pie, notwithstanding the complete absence of pumpkin. I guess it was the composition of the spice mix and the creaminess of the mousse. But this would be a great dessert for Thanksgiving.
There was only one downside to using the cake in a trifle. I thought that the best part of the gingerbread was the super chewy outer crust, especially the crunchy and delightfully sweet portions embedded with turbinado sugar. Tom and I ate our trifles about 24 hours after assembly, and all of the cake was soft after being in contact with the mousse. All of the wonderful flavors were still there, but I missed the chewy-crunchy crust.
Still, I was delighted with how well these trifles came out, especially because I was almost ready to write off the ginger cake entirely. It was wonderful to be able to turn a failed baking project into a successful dessert!
Recipes: "The Marrow's Ginger Stout Cake" from The New York Times; and the mousse portion of this "Gingerbread and White Chocolate Mousse Trifle" recipe from Food & Wine.
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