Before I start this week’s post, let’s congratulate Kayoko and the crew for revamping the Umamimart site to a whole new level. Orange is my favorite color, so this is cool, and soon enough, we will be FAMOUS bloggers!! Hooray.

As you’ve seen from my past posts, I’ve made cakes for basically all of my friends birthdays in recent years, and since I made pink Barbie cake for my friend Derek, there’s a lot of pressure now. I have to top each birthday cake with something better, crazier, and funny as hell.

My friend Mike’s birthday was coming up, and I decided to make a crazy cake for him. What shape or flavor should I create? Fun shape, fun flavor, what could I do?  After talking with friends, we came to conclude that it had to relate to his recent injury. He broke his foot pretty badly when he was playing gay football. Don’t ask me about the difference between regular football and gay football, but it has something to do with less protection? Flags or something? Since I don’t follow sports whatsoever, I have no idea when he talks about his “gay football league”.

Anyhow, he is recovering pretty well, and ready to get back to playing, which is good.

So what is broken leg cake? It could be a X-ray photo of broken leg on top of  square cake, but that’s kinda too realistic and gross, so I googled around “broken leg cake”, and someone has made it look like a leg in a cast. Great inspiration.

Knowing that his favorite cake was chocolate cake, I found an interesting German chocolate cake recipe that uses a lot of coffee.

INGREDIENTS

4 cups sugar
2 1/2 cups flour
1 1/2 cup cocoa
3 tsp baking powder
3 tsp baking soda
2 tsp salt
4 eggs
2 cups buttermilk
1 cup butter, melted
2 tbsp vanilla extract
2 cups hot coffee

METHOD

Preheat oven to 350˚F degrees.

I used two cookie sheets to make this, just like my wedding cake. My idea was to make a jelly roll.

In the large bowl of a standing mixer, stir together sugar, flour, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Add eggs, buttermilk, melted butter and vanilla extract; beat 2 minutes on medium speed.

Stir in the hot coffee.

The batter is soooo runny, and I may use 1 cup of coffee next time. Pour batter in evenly, spread it out and bake for about 15 minutes or so.

The cake is INCREDIBLY soft. Maybe buttermilk, maybe coffee, but whatever it was, this was almost too soft to make shapes. I was suddenly reminded by the horror story from my wedding cake endeavor, and realized rolling them wasn’t an option.

Me being pretty good at improvising, I decided to just layer them. By the way, above recipe makes way too much cake. You basically need half this to create the leg.

Meanwhile, I made raspberry jam-esque stuff using frozen raspberry, sugar and corn starch, to make the filling look like blood. How clever!

Not a great picture, but you can see how much it broke when cutting, assembling this soft cake.

Blood seeping out of flesh, how realistic this is! I know I was covering up with cream, so I let go of my perfectionism.

By the way, where the foot is, I made a large cake ball (mushing cake, mixing with a bit of raspberry jam as binder, and made a large flat ball shape, to fit how a foot may look like in this shape, and stuck it to the bottom of the “leg” part. I also made sure to use bunch of long wooden stick to secure its placement. You do not want “broken” broken leg cake, right?

I made cream cheese and white chocolate frosting, and first crumb-coated it.

Then I needed toes. Thank you marzipan. The color is pretty close to skin, and it was very easy to deal with. I just rolled them, looking at my own toes (this is important) and shape it like one, then press where the nail is with knife, toothpick, etc., to make a dent for nails.

This gives you a great idea for this year’s Halloween cake, don’t you think? I thought, after all, this was for a gay footballer, I need to flame this up.

It gets grosser! I painted the nails with red food coloring, and added a base to attach to cake.

Attach it to the top of the cake ball, and start piping the white cream, so that it looks like cast.

Then with the widest flat tip (898), carefully piped it, and also made sure each layer overlaps to give it a good “wrapped leg” effect.

Since the party was a block from my apartment, I carefully hand-carried it. While I was walking over, people were like, “WTF is that?!!” Then realized it was broken leg cake.

This was a big hit at the party. Sort of gross to say, but marzipan toes tasted quite good as well.

Happy Birthday Mike!

My trip to France was my first international experience ever. As much as I tried to prepare, there really is just no preparing for the unknown. From walking a mile underground in between each subway line to the reality of the hotel rooms, everything seemed to be more difficult than I had anticipated. What do you mean small? Thankfully, as all reigns true, food is the international unifier regardless of barriers.

When it came to culture shock, the biggest wake-up calls I received were a Kentucky Fried Chicken amassed with obnoxious teens and Chinese-borne sandwich cart vendors. So you mean to tell me you speak Mandarin, French, AND English? I’m glad I learned all those 15 words before I traveled all the way over here.

On a cloudy, rainy day in Paris, we happened upon this easy-on-the-eyes, comfort-zone respite of a Japanese noodle house in what appeared to be an actual Japantown in Paris!

Now, I have it on good authority from TWO Japanese people that “lamen” is a phonetic corruption of “ramen”, and is not actually the French translation.

After enduring a week of ghastly humidity throughout France, the rain was welcome weather for eating lamen.

The chef prepared for us a decent plate of yakisoba with calamari rings, followed by a simple but solid bowl of pork lamen.

After Paris, we ventured down south to Nice. Similar to my post on Liguria, the French Riviera is so much different than the rest of the country. From the architecture to the cuisine, it just screams quaint, romantic, seaside living. Like with this bouillabaise for starters:

It was no Joe’s Crab Shack of course, and it did not compel me to scream, “TAKE YOUR TOP OFF!” but it did the trick.

Another regional specialty, like the bouillabaise but far less recognized, is socca. Socca is a chick-pea pancake with lots of olive oil and black pepper. Other cultures have similar dishes–like farinata in Italy and besan poora in India–but socca truly is my favorite. Not just because of the flavor and consistency, but because of this particular experience.

You know how in San Francisco there’s the Tamale Lady? Well Nice has the Socca Lady and her name is Theresa. Caricatural in all her glory, she owns the crowd at the Tuesday Farmer’s Market in Old Nice.

Taciturn in voice and demeanor, she glares at you while you stammer, “Socca por deux… uh… sils vous plait…” Gulp. With a nod of her head and a shoo of her hand, you stand there completely unsure of what to do next so you go sit down and sort of just wait, feeling totally insecure. Then you wait and you wait some more, and then finally, around the corner like Batman’s Robin on a runaway sidecar, comes this man with his glorified pizza warmer. Behold, the socca contraption:

Not only does the entire bottom of the contraption hold a single socca that Theresa makes in her kitchen, but it also holds smaller socca-esque pies.

Theresa takes the whole tray of socca and you see her start cutting it up and throwing it on paper plates, calling customers and familiar faces to come get theirs. I tried to play it cool like I’m not on the edge of my seat, feeling a little like a penniless child near an ice-cream truck, and then just as fast as she shooed me away, she brought me my very first, official plate of socca.

Unfortunately, the wait continued because this thing was like 500˚F of steaming, creamy chickpea.

Back in Paris in the 5th Arrondisement, is this amazing Japanese patisserie, steps away from our little hotel called Patisserie Sadaharu Aoki.

Stuffed to the gills with French macaroons and cafe cremes, this shop was a sweet intermission.

There is nothing like learning things for the first time and, while I preferred the South of France to Paris, the diversity and unexpected finds of the city were worth learning the hard way. And when you don’t know what else to order or just have a hankering, get the soup a l’oignon.

I must stress that this is the best onion soup I have ever eaten to date.

HIGUMA
32 bis Rue Sainte-Anne
75001 Paris, France
01.47.03.38.59

THERESA’S SOCCA
Tuesdays @ the Cours Saleya Market
Old Nice, France

PATISSERIE SADAHARU AOKI
35 Rue de Vaugirard
Paris, France 75006
+33.1.45.44.48.90

When I was but a spring chicken who had just graduated from university, I went on a backpacking trip to Italy with one of my friends. It was hot, we were young and Italy was a marvelous cacaphony of ancient ruins, art & culture and food. From Umberto Eco’s Foucault’s Pendulum to Irving Stone’s biographical novel of Michelangelo, The Agony and the Ecstasy, to murder mysteries set in Italy by Donna Leon, Magdalene Nabb and Michael Dibdin, I was immersed in fiction about Italy.

One of my favourite Italian desserts is tiramisu. And the best recipe I’ve come across is the one given to my sister at university. She had a Japanese friend whose family lived in Milan, and her mother gave us this recipe. Friends may leave but the tiramisu stays. I’ve been making this tiramisu for over 15 years and it’s way better than the majority of tiramisu you are served in restaurants. I kid you not.

I’m not the most meticulous cook around and I don’t have a scales or all the paraphernalia needed for proper cooking and baking (shocking, I know) but tiramisu is REALLY EASY to make and gets the best responses. You’ll make lots of friends with this dessert.

TOTALLY TIRAMISU

INGREDIENTS
2 organic eggs
2 tubs of mascarpone (or 500g)
5 tablespoons sugar for the mascarpone mixture
1/2 teaspoon sugar for the egg whites
2 capfuls vanilla extract
2 cups espresso
4 tablespoons Kahlua
Half a pack or approx. 12 pieces ladyfinger biscuits

Unlike cakes, you can play around with the recipe to suit your taste. I’ve actually cut down the sugar because the sponge fingers are really sweet. It’s also very important to use fresh, organic eggs as they are a raw ingredient in this recipe.

METHOD

1. Start by making the espresso so that it has time to cool.

2. Separate the egg yolks and white. Add the five tablespoons of sugar and vanilla extract to the yolks and mix vigorously with a whisk.

3. It should lose its yellow yolky colour and become creamy and smooth like butter.

4. Add the mascarpone cheese.

5. Mix.

6. Mix.

And mix until smooooooth.

Don’t forget to lick the mixture off before washing the whisk. SO good.

7. Beat the egg whites until they form peaks and add half a teaspoon of sugar so they keep their stiffness.

8. Add the beaten egg white to the mascarpone mixture. I normally add half of the beaten egg white (so basically that means one egg white, not two) as I like the mascarpone to be quite thick. The more egg white you add, the fluffier and lighter the tiramisu.

9. Fold the mixture gently and evenly. The mascarpone mixture should feel lighter already.

10. Now for the espresso. Add to a bowl and mix in some alcohol. Most recipes call for rum, but I like it sweet so I add Kahlua instead. Normally four tablespoons or more, but add to taste.

If you like your cake alcoholic, add more. If you don’t want it so alcoholic, add some sugar.

Time for the ladyfingers.

11. Dip the finger biscuits into the coffee mixture. Don’t leave the biscuits in for too long or they’ll dissolve!

12. Layer the finger biscuits. The number of biscuits you need will depend on the size and shape of your dish. Usually 12 finger biscuits for two layers, with six per layer.

13. Layer the mascarpone mixture. Repeat.

14. Cover and keep in the fridge for about four hours or overnight.

15. Make sure you sprinkle the cocoa powder just before serving or it’ll get soggy. And ENJOY.

I only make this on special occasions because I’m lazy (even though this is the easiest recipe EVER) but it’s good to make this an occasional dessert just so you build up your friends’ cravings a little. You’ll have them begging.

Unfortunately I don’t have a picture of me eating the tiramisu because we wolfed it down before I could whip out the camera. Sigh. But my friends swore this was the best tiramisu they’ve had.

Can you believe it?!?!? Governor Cuomo and a bunch of super wealthy Republican bankers really said YES to gay marriage in the state of New York. When it was announced that, “Same sex marriage bill has passed”, I was overcome with amazement, joy, “it’s about f#*&ing time”–a lot of emotions.

Until this becomes a federal law (and they get rid of DOMA), the fight continues, but at least this is a HUGE and symbolic accomplishment. When I heard Republican Senator Mark Grisanti talk about how agonizing it was for him to make the decision, but that he just couldn’t bear to think that the same person who lives just like everyone else couldn’t get married because of his/her sexual preference–I was all teary. I made a visit to Stonewall Inn Saturday night and it was packed with happy faces.

The day has finally come when we have the same right as everyone else to be wed. Hooray! Can you imaging planning a gay wedding? How bitchy and meticulous the clients would be?!

So this year’s Pride weekend made a perfect occasion for me to make a kicked-up version of my beloved Barbie Doll Cake.

My friend organizes an annual pride party where gallons and gallons of frozen margaritas are consumed, and after my Barbie cake experience, naturally I had to make another version, even more funnier than last time.

Preparation started three weeks prior to the main day.

It’s a Pride cake, so I have to use Ken, but make him look pretty, right? I’ve seen someone using G.I. Joe and made a very butch drag cake, but I wanted something more elegant. So I bought both Ken and Barbie, plus an additional barbie head (nowadays, her head is interchangeable–so advanced).

He is too butch with short hair even with a crown on his head.

Somehow, I need to swap his head with hers. I really wanted to use his body, but I was afraid I might break it if I yanked the head. Oh, Barbie and Ken, what can I do?

I brought them into the office, and consulted with some of the female colleagues on what I should do. If you grow up playing with Barbie, I am sure they have done some horrible things to it.

Christy suggested I should just yank the head and swap. So I had a sex change operation in my cubicle. First I yanked off his head.

Then attached Barbie on his body.

I love how muscular the neck is. It totally worked!

Post-op Ken was totally happy with her pretty new face and hairdo. Posing with her twin sister Barbie.

Then I tried different hairstyles.

This updo is elegant. Looks like Katherine Heigl.

How about a bit loose like this?

Or crazy like that?

Is this too trendy?

Is this better?

Then I needed underwear on her. What kind of proper lady dress without undergarments?! I added food coloring to the marzipan and fitted her with a bra and panty set.

After all, he is a boy, so the bulge is necessary.

A bit too thick of a thong…

Looks more like a sumo wrestler’s diaper. Oh well.

Then I went to Strawberry’s and found the ugliest earrings, which I thought would make perfect head pieces. Plus I had a these laser lights from a friend of mine who went to Whitney’s new location launch party.

Again, he is so muscular, yet, very elegant from the head up. I hairsprayed the hell out of his hair so it would hold the “hairpieces” well.

Now it’s time to bake the cake. I was going to make this from scratch, but I knew that the cake is all about the Barbie, not so much about the cake itself, so I bought boxed cake instead. I thought about coloring the batter in rainbow shades, but I was too lazy, so just added a drop of food color and swirled it around.

Trippy and artistic.

I feared that the inside of the cake may not have the swirl, but oh well.

I used three boxes of cakes, made four regular rounds, and one sphere shaped one.

Since store-bought frosting is so gross, I made icing this time. Three pounds of cheese, six sticks of butter, four cups of powdered sugar. Good stuff.

Then color.

My idea for this cake was rainbow shades on the front side, plus an elegant black dress. Coloring white cream into black involves a lot of black food coloring. Still it was a dark gray.

Time to assemble. Remembering the disaster from my wedding cake adventure, I stuck dowels in the cake to avoid any incidents.

Crumb coat her.

Chill her for an hour. Crap, she was too tall to fit into the fridge, so I had to bend her neck.

Poor girl. After this, I could never fit the head back in properly. Her head was wobbly for the rest of her life.

Time to have fun. Decorate front side with rainbow.

Add an accent piece of jewelry if you have one.

All the piping on the back side was pain the ass.

I think cream cheese icing was a bit on the loose side, but held well enough.

After a couple hours of piping, she is finally ready for the show. I also made wings using the same earrings.

Compared to Barbie, you can tell how drag queen perfect she/he is with thick neck and muscular body structure.

Details of her dress.

Chill her until her show time. This time, I removed bunch of stuff from the fridge so she can stand without bending her neck.

On Sunday, I delivered the cake (luckily he lives a block from my apt). Just a little photo shoot on the stoop.

A dog was eyeing her right near us. We quickly picked her up to avoid any disasters.

Ah, she has arrived to the destination. Compare her gaze closely to her former Ken face.

He looks so sad.

Waiting for guests to arrive in the center of living room.

Someone stuck her pre-op face on her hand. Everyone thought she was a piñata, so we had to explain that this was actually an edible cake. Then people were very impressed by my work.

Time to eat/play with her. Do you see the nice diamond on her crotch?

After four hours of drinking margaritas, we were not in a mood to eat cake, but totally ready to play. Just like last time, we had fun with her, but it did not get as dirty. Ken’s body is less flexible than Barbie, plus his headpieces were pretty heavy, so we couldn’t steady him to do much actions.

We dumped her on leftover vegetable platter. We tried to put her in inappropriate poses, but as I said, it wasn’t as fun as a girl. After all, boys are not as flexible than girls.

RIP.

One of the guest at the party said EVERYONE in Nebraska gets a Barbie cake for their Sweet 16. I bet she is not as dirty or deeply thought through as this one, though.

It was so much fun to prepare, and think about what I could do, and after I finished decorating it, I lost interest. Next time, I will use a Barbie head and make an even larger cake. When would that be?

If you live in Manhattan, and want this cake, please contact me at yamahomo@umamimart.com. It won’t be cheap, but it will make your party extra fun!

After having spent my later teen years plowing through the novels of Douglas Coupland, Bret Easton Ellis and other post modern cynics, I can’t help but see myself in so many typical Generation X situations. Meaning that you suddenly find yourself in a condition that requires an ironizing snark or a sarcastic comment–there’s just no other way. For example, visiting the stable tourist trap for Danish layer cakes–La Glace– in Copenhagen.

My sister and I have a thing for cakes. We just can’t leave the fuckers alone. And living in Copenhagen with all its French-inspired cake shops and new organic bakeries makes it even harder not to misstep and inhale a slice or two every so often.

But this place, La Glace, is not where we usually go. Only tourists (with the wrong guidebook obviously), old grandmas with their offspring, and suburban white trash who come into the city on Saturdays to shop for loose gym trousers and tv dinner trays with wheels, all go to have “posh cake” at the Glace.

No locals come here, they all know better. And I should too, but sometimes you have to take one for the team, in this case Team Umamimart.

The facade reflects old European style with lots of glass, gold and old bricks. The signs are inconsistent though, it looks cheap.

The window next to the entrance is an exhibit of what this place is all about: layer cakes, the timeless Danish staple dessert, and afternoon coffee companion. A circular birthday cake (not squarish as in the U.S.) with candles and flags is part of every Danish child’s birthday.

We glance through the windows. The lady inside gives us a very suspicious look. Are we cake crazy tourists on drugs or from the State Department of Health? Either represent a bad visitor, I guess.

Walnut cake: crushed walnuts in whipped cream, mocca frosting and caramellized walnuts. Lots of walnuts, huh?

Orange cake: Orange creme, macaroon base, orange frosting, caramellized oranges.

H.C. Anderson’s Cake: Lemon fromage, raspberry butter with star anis on juicy nut bottom layer. Decorated with white chocolate.

Rubinstein cake: Rum fromage, macaroon base, currants jelly, choux dipped in chocolate, hazelnuts and whipped cream. Wow, lots going on here.

We check the prices. EEEK!!

$10 for a slice (and that slice ain’t big, I can tell you that. This is Copenhagen, not Houston, Texas). This better be good.

They also offer strawberry cakes at $7.5 and smaller truffles at $6.

No idea what these cakes are. Being gay I dig the little flowers. Perhaps it is tradition, but I generally don’t like eating out of tinfoil it’s just too supermarket cake-ish.

The right window is a different story. No layer cakes here, just horror.

Yes yes, very bridezilla from afar. But get up close…

… SHOCK!! Yamahomo, don’t look!!! Macarons from hell! You may have nightmares for years!

For one, these are bad bad colours. Did they squeeze a salmon for the right amount of 1994 apricot-hairdresser-salon-wall-barf-inducing colouring? Also, the styling is sloppy. The macarons are drying and falling apart, its legs are gross and clumsy. Only a straight women would place this tray of macarons coulour scheme on a lime/pink striped underpaper. It a messy clash and it hurts the eyes.

Late June means streets crowded with drunk high school graduates screaming and fornicating in joy, set free from the chains of homework and obligations. That’s what they think, this is the real end of childhood and youth and it only gets worse from here. [If they knew this they would be crying in the streets, throwing themselves off tall buildings.]

Here is the hat they all wear for graduation, as a symbol of no way back.

To the left is a tray of marzipan cake which you eat at big events like new years eve and graduation ceremonies. Danish flags everywhere, it’s a party thing. On the right is the cake hat.

We enter the tourist scene.

Clean but slightly messy setup, like someone’s redecorated a 1895 living room into a coffee and cake cafe.

Silver, brass, glass.

The coffee is filter coffee served in silver pitchers. As if that makes it better?

We take a deep breath and glance at the menu.

Ok, so $10 for a cake slice and $10.5 for a cup of filter coffee? Bitches, you’re on drugs.

Oh yeah and hot chocolate is $13. Their pamphlet says it’s made on sweet milk, cream and “block chocolate” (industrial?).

The tourists stand in line, surrounded by others who have also obeyed their discount guide books and order the cake, only to realise the hollowness of this place. Cause La Glace is all talk and no walk.

This place is popular, there’s always a line.

The pamphlet on the table advertises 19 layer cakes. Not all are made every day. But you can order your own cake for 14 peeps for $140.

The interior wants to be cozy but something’s just off. We’re sitting in a basement and it feels like we’re in a half-assed Disneyland green room.

Core audience: old peeps. The thing on the left with the white glasses is actually a man. Closeted husband alert.

Our order arrives fairly quickly. Filter coffee is so much faster than real espresso machines, yay…

My sister refused to order her own coffee due to the rio-off price tag. So we share the cup illegally.

Cake addict pose.

I am so wearing the wrong thing for a cake date, sorry. I should’ve brought my vest and butterfly, where are my manners.

My sister ordered a slice of the Spring Cake: Raspberry fromage, chocolate truffle, raspberry puree on an almond base layer, topped with a green marzipan heart:

It’s quite tasty, although most of it is just foam. And it’s so small!!

I got the Lucky You: Pumpkin merenque, marscapone, caramellized and salted pumpkin seeds, chocolate mousse, raspberry ganache. Topped with pumpkin seeds.

Quite nice as well. The raspberry plays well as a contrast to the heavy chocolate, and the pumpkins seeds are crunchy goodies in all the splat splat foam.

Again, I could’ve eaten 5 slices.

The coffee was blah as predicted. Even two people couldn’t finish the pitcher.

I liked the long flags in the window and the cake slices. But this wasn’t enough to shake off the tourist trap feeling. La Glace is overpriced and they are resting too well on their laurels. Lower the prices or enlarge the tiny cake bites and they might get more stars from me. But again, this is not me or my friend’s scene. It’s a full blooded anacronism, a timewarp in the middle of Copenhagen which I really support had they only done it better and more upscale. I bet there are 2000 places in Paris or London who solve this job so much better.

La Glace means in French either “the ice / the ice cream / the window / the frosting”… take your pick. I should go to Paris, actually. The real scene for café and cakes. Will Umamimart sponsor me, pretty please?

As you know, I love to bake, and I am especially fond of cakes. I do it all–classic cakes, crazy cakes, Japanese cakes, chocolate cakes, wedding cakes (trauma). I love to come up with crazy combinations, that I try to master after tweaking the recipe over and over. Over the years, I’ve posted many of them here on Umamimart, such as…

The Bacon Cupcake: (May, 2009):

The American Cake, for when my friend got his citizenship (September, 2007):

The Baumkuchen Follies (November, 2009):

12-Layer Heavenly Chocolate Cake (February 2008):

Japanese cheesecake (June 2009):

And, of course, the infamous wedding cake disaster (March 2009):

I usually make a cake for friends’ birthdays as well. I am making a very special cake for a friend of mine for his birthday, and I have thought long and hard about what would suit him best. It will be pretty funny. Meanwhile, take a look at some of the birthday cakes I have made in the past:

Rice flour carrot cake with cream cheese frosting for a gluten free friend:

A jelly roll with whipped cream and strawberry for a Japanese friend:

Double chocolate cake for a gay guy (this was actually his 35th):

Berry tart for a work colleague:

Macaron round cake for a very sophisticated and bitchy gay guy:

Pink bunny cake for a friend of mine whose birthday happened to fall on Easter weekend:

Yeah, I’ve made cakes. But brace yourself for one of the craziest and funniest cakes I will be posting next week. Here’s a hint:

At least this is how it will start out.

After getting canned without reason, the day after her maternity leave was up, Paula Cinini was not sure what to do; she had always worked as a journalist. To find some solace in this devastating situation, and cope with her mother’s passing, Paula dug up her mother’s old, partly-burned, worn recipe book and began baking.

The good book with mom’s recipes, burned pages, and finger prints throughout.

Baking is something Paula was taught to do with love. Baking reminded her of when she would help her mother and Italian grandma make pasta as a little girl. Paula took her skills into the kitchen and talent with words and built a blog that has been going strong for over three years. But, she didn’t stop there. Along with the help of her husband Alexandre (he taught himself chocolates, and Paula taught him cupcakes), and daughter Helena, Paula began to bake for their friend’s parties and events.

A cookie on a stick order going out for the weekend.

The popularity of her blog The Cookie Shop, and moist (yes) cakes, cookies, and cupcakes spread, and soon she had a business that she loved. All of her goods are sold virtually and baked right at home, with the help from Alexandre, who is in charge of the chocolates. Together, it is an entirely in-house operation that has transformed their home.

Paula and Alexandre.

Helena.

Alexandre’s white chocolate, caramel, and macadamia and chocolates.

Sugar cookies with killer frosting. I ate about four of these.

When asked about her first sell to a total stranger, Paula reveals that her client, a São Paulo University physics student, grabbed her and gave her a massive hug right there in the parking lot, where she admitted she was a huge fan of Paula’s blog, and “couldn’t wait to try her cupcakes!” Paula was clearly onto something.

Paula deep in concentration.

Et voila!

Brazilian baking is a bit different that of the U.S. or France. In a country where cake is a part of every afternoon snack, Paula admits that Brazilians are pretty particular about their cake, “They have to be more moist  (yes) and the fillings sweeter. You can’t mess with these two things too much because people are particular.” In Brazilian cakes the main event comes from the filling and not so much the frosting, although that is good too.

Our moist wedding cake: orange cake with layers of pistachio creme filling. Still drooling.

Straight from Roger Rabbit: my sister in-law’s coconut cake with fudge filling and sugar icing.

Fresh ingredients like pistachios, fruits, walnuts, and the very best flour fill her cakes (and kitchen).

The Cookie Shop.

Tools of the trade.

Lists.

The foundation.

The secret ingredient for Brazilian sweet-makers is condensed milk. Paula laughs, “The French patisseries deplore Brazil’s use of it, but no one really cares, because it tastes so good.” It is rumored that the white sweet gooey stuff is making a comeback stateside.

Due to good ol’ twitter, Paula has recently joined forces with a group of over 50 bakers, other bloggers, and sweet-makers forming a sort of “online oracle” where anyone with a baking emergency can find help within minutes. They call themselves the “Doceiras Tweeteiras” (The Tweeting Sweet-Makers) and have formed a support group for women home alone that exercise creativity and challenge themselves to tackle new recipes and projects.

Paula says her first cake order was a disaster. After the third attempt, the recipe was right, but she had not transported a cake before and  had to readjust and rebuild part of it in front of the birthday girl’s house! To achieve the extreme moistness of Brazilian cake require a process. It takes Paula three days to build a two layer wedding cake, with time to cool, let it settle, then add the filling. The waiting period is crucial to make sure the cake sets properly.

No matter how long it takes, The Cookie Shop’s aim is always to create magic.

Sweet!

As you may all know, I’m half-Japanese and half-Sri Lankan, so anything to do with either country sparks an immediate interest. So when I began hearing rumours about a new Japanese cake shop and tea salon springing up in trendy Primrose Hill in north London last year, my ears perked up. My sister and I went to investigate one sunny summers day, we walked past a Japanese-looking patisserie and kept on walking because it was named Lanka. Imagine our confusion. We went back to check what kind of hybrid shop it was only to discover that it was indeed the rumoured cake shop.

On talking to the Japanese chef and owner, Masayuki Hara who trained in classic French cuisine with a stint at Michel Roux Jr.’s two Michelin-starred restaurant Le Gavroche, we learned that he named his shop Lanka because he loves Sri Lanka. Hey, so do we! They also source all their tea from the Euphorium Tea Salon in Colombo (whose owner, Midori Pieris is also, I think, half-Japanese and half-Sri Lankan). See all the Japanese-Sri Lankan connections? So cool. I actually visited the Euphorium Tea Salon the last time I was in Sri Lanka, only to find it was closed that day. Sniff. I’ll definitely go next January.

The interior of Lanka is light, white and clean. And the cakes look mouthwatering. The only problem is that it only seats about 10 people (that’s six at the counter and two small tables). Primrose Hill is an extremely popular haunt amongst the young and trendy with a lively high street with cafés, restaurants and select shops and a beautiful park where you can see the London skyline. It’s also where Kate Moss, Jude Law et al. used to live in their heyday and is still popular with the celebs, which makes it damned difficult to get a seat.

The first time we actually managed to find seats, we had the much talked about matcha chocolate cake which was moist and dense with a hit of matcha. We liked it tremendously. The accompanying scoop of vanilla ice cream was sublime.

The second time we took our mum who is a Mont Blanc fanatic. It’s funny how you can’t find Mont Clanc, the chestnut cake, in London. We normally eat it when we go to Paris (Angelina’s is the best we’ve had although that’s probably the only thing I’d have there. Even the coffee is atrocious) or Japan where it’s popular. Lanka’s Mont Blanc wasn’t bad, although my mum complained there wasn’t enough chestnut paste (which is reminiscent of azuki paste).

But the best thing we had there was the baked cheesecake. It tasted like what you would get in Japan. Soft, creamy and extremely light. Heaven in a slice.

London is currently going through a coffee boom and Lanka was no different in serving rich, creamy and intense coffee made from Monmouth Coffee beans.

I know this piece of cake doesn’t look so hot, but to be fair, it’s been through a lot.

Last weekend I was at a house party in Williamsburg. It was still Passover, so I was having wine instead of beer, cheese with no crackers and trying not to look at the cookies. I’d been going through a week of this, and there were only two days left. I MISSED BREAD! As if things couldn’t get any worse, in walks a box with the words “MOMOFUKU BANANA CAKE” written in bold font.

Oh dear God, let my people free! I can hardly remember the conversations I had after that point–the only thing on my mind was that banana cake on the table two feet away. People kept eating it and exclaiming “OH, WOW! Who brought this cake?”

I mean, I am really into dessert. I have read about Christina Tosi for years and somehow never tried her goods. This was just too much for me to handle. It was a huge cake and after at least an hour, two thirds of it was still left and it was time for me to leave. I thought about cutting a piece, putting it on a plate, asking for saran wrap and taking it home. But that’s rude, I would never do that. So instead, I cut a piece, put it on a large napkin, walked to a corner as if I was going to sit and eat it, and then shoved it in my purse.

I felt bad about it (but only a little). I don’t think anyone saw. As I said goodbye to the host, I felt compelled to confess and told her I’d put a piece of Momofuku cake in my purse. I think she thought I was joking or something. I was exhausted after the very long journey home to Park Slope that night and went straight to bed when I got home. Sunday morning I awoke and sat straight up in bed. MY CAKE! It spent a whole night in my purse! Ah, well, I thought. It survived David Chang’s kitchen and a subway ride to Williamsburg–I’m sure a night in the ol’ bag wouldn’t do much harm. In it went into the fridge till Monday night.

I broke Passover Monday evening with a plate of mussels and a lovely pork loin at The Kingswood (and of course I ordered dessert, too). Then I came home as quickly as I could and went straight for the fridge. This cake. THIS CAKE! Holy guacamole!

I’m pretty sure that even had I not been deprived of baked goods for a week, this would have been just as impressive. In fact, I’m sure of it. This stuff was OFF THE HOOK! I yelled from the kitchen. You have GOT to try this! Seriously–so moist and carmelly and these great, GREAT crunchy bits.

I managed to saved the mister a bite. A small one.

Photo by Erin Gleeson.

Lyons used to operate teahouses all over England in the early 20th century, only to begin shutting them down in the 1980s. To my eternal regret, I arrived in England too late to visit them.

These teahouses turn up in all sorts of novels, especially before, during and after the war. In a bleak social landscape, all grey and littered with suffering, it was the beacon of light where you could forget your worries for a few hours, chatting in the bustling interior with a pot of strong, hot tea and a plate of biscuits and cake. Sarah Waters, one of my favourite contemporary British writers has mentioned it a few times in The Little Stranger and The Night Watch. And many a teatime was spent discussing the trials of life in the Lyons teahouses in the early 20th century domestic fiction republished by Persephone Books.

In Britain, biscuits hold a special place in people’s hearts. As a land of tea-lovers (Ceylon, Assam, Darjeeling, Earl Grey, Gunpowder and Green tea – I know, it reeks of empire but good things have to come from somewhere), it’s imperative that we have something to dunk in it.

One of my family’s perennial favourites is the rich tea biscuit. In Japan, it’s called the Marie biscuit. And in Sri Lanka, well, it was the biscuit of choice of our late pooch, Puccini. Turns out my nephews love them too. And my mother swears they are the perfect thing to settle a dodgy stomach. There are many choices including the supermarket brands but probably the most famous in the UK is Lyons, established in 1894. I went to the supermarket and found these which are just perfect dunked in a cup of hot, strong, milky tea.

They also make other delicacies reminiscent of the days of yore, such as battenburg cake (chequered pink and yellow and sugary which screams plastic and preservatives), chocolate bourbons (how I loved these at boarding school) and custard creams (was never sure of these but everyone else scoffed them at teatime). And let’s not forget the delightfully named French Sponge Sandwich (which we would normally call the Victoria Sponge in celebration of Queen Victoria). But why French? Who knows. I’m not sure why people still buy these biscuits considering there are so many newer, better tasting varieties. However, part of their appeal taps into our memories of childhood, school fêtes and sitting out in the garden in summer reading Enid Blyton and happily munching on these biscuits. I, for one, wouldn’t say no to a chocolate bourbon.

Unfortunately, having trawled through the biscuit and cake section of the major supermarkets and the little newsagents near where I live, I found very few Lyons products except for the original rich tea biscuits and the suspicious looking ‘teashop classic’, the sultana and cherry cake.

My heart was set on a battenburg cake but alas, it was not to be. It seems Lyons has been superseded by the more popular McVitie’s, famous for their chocolate digestives.

The rich tea biscuit was perfect for dunking, light and porous enough for the tea to soak in without crumbling too quickly. But the ‘teashop classic’ sultana and cherry cake was too crumbly, dry and sugary and tasted like it was made in the early twentieth century. Fail.

So, what are your favourite biscuits and cakes?