Toasted Flour Brown Butter Genoise with Persimmon and Caramelised Honey Cream Cheese Buttercream
The cake I both binned and crave.
My journey into the madness of finding promise in persimmons resumed. It was everywhere, ripening red and bulbous on bare, late-Autumn branches.
I still felt very fixated on creating an extravagant layer cake, Fall-themed and multi-faceted, full of contrasting flavours and textures.
Pairing honeyed persimmons with honey was my first source of inspiration - an uncreative but safe decision, and admittedly biased, based on my preference.
I decided to indulge in my increasing obsession with
, turning to the cake that had first steered me to her platform.
The idea of toasting flour was instantly appealing to me - like bread warm from the toaster melting the spread of butter and honey. It was an all-new process, and surprisingly very simple - brown the grain in a frying pan (dry) until it darkens to your preference. I possibly took it too far, or else possibly burnt the cake. Either way, I would definitely repeat the technique on another bake.
Step two, brown the butter - it was my best EVER batch. I either etch too soon or far but found the sweet spot before black. Step three, attempt to tackle the complexities of GENOISE - in particular, reaching ribbon-stage eggs with a sh*tty supermarket mixer.
Standing over a bowl of eggs and sugar for 17 minutes is unpleasant, but I was patient, and blame the lack of low speed mixing for not having quite succeeded. My cheap mixer only runs on high or extra high, and as a result, I missed those vital 10 minutes of slow and steady combining (wah).
But still the result wasn’t BAD, simply not quite perfect. My eggs and sugar were definitely shiny, definitely stable, but had some bubbles.
Next step, the tricky art of adding dry to the wet - I unfortunately butchered the process despite trying to ‘capital D’. The recipe then advised to only ‘just’ combine with brown butter - advice I may have taken too literally, results of which I will discuss later.
Finally, the iconic genoise batter drop from a height in the tin. I popped it in the oven, and dropped it again after it was finished.
Frosting next, a honey cream cheese number with NO ADDED SUGAR. I instantly blacklist any recipe requiring 4 cups of the fine powder. It was luscious - with sublime texture and the perfect level of sweetness. The caramelised honey I thought I overdid, but it was perfect - rich and complex.
And then the star of the show, my filling - the mighty persimmon! - was just plain ‘bleh’. I roasted it with honey, cinnamon, orange and ginger, but I hated the texture and flavour. The bland taste was salvaged somewhat by a massive pinch of salt - I chopped the fruit finely and hoped for the best, spooning it in between the cake layers.
Final result? The toasty cake was unbelievably dry, one of my biggest fears in baking - an unforgiveable mistake. Strangely enough the brown butter had settled at the bottom, which peeled off with the baking paper, and tasted DELICIOUS. I wonder if this was whether the batter simply needed more ‘mixing’, but that thin layer of moist crumb definitely had potential.
The persimmon was so unpalatable that I decided to give up, forcing myself to stop and forget about finding its place among baked goods. The frosting, however, is a keeper - one of the best that I have made. Even still, in total frustration, I iced, tasted, then BINNED the cake.
But one week later (maybe less!) I started craving its toasty, honeyed flavour, and wondered whether my perfectionism had me act too harshly, too hastily. I will 100% reattempt this golden little bake, maybe soaking the layers for moisture, and maybe using the right sized cake tin! (D’oh).
Original recipe HERE, including deep dive into sugars, honey and toasted flour, by the wonderful
. My lacklustre persimmons need not be repeated!