Don't Cry Over Fallen Cupcakes

Don't Cry Over Fallen Cupcakes is now hosted at Pie of the Tiger

Have you ever had a bad baking day? If you have, you'll know that they can be as devastating as a bad hair day from hell. Most people don't bake only for themselves. At least, I don't. I've always been very aware of the people I bake for, and I firmly believe that the touchy-feely idea that people can taste the emotions you had while making the food is true. So when I have a bad baking day, it's almost always when the product is going to someone--or many someones--I care about. On top of that, these people usually know I went to pastry school and was a pastry cook, and so should be capable of making a decent cake. All in all, bad baking days are a dogeared and food-splattered recipe for extreme embarrassment in the cookbook of my life.



This past Saturday, I was making the birthday cake for a very dear friend of mine's birthday party. I wanted it to be spectacular, because the birthday girl is pretty darn spectacular herself. I ended up deciding to do cupcakes, and I set out to do two different flavors as soon as I woke up Saturday morning, a chocolate cupcake recipe from The Modern Baker by Nick Malgieri and a white chocolate cake recipe from Pure Chocolate by Fran Bigelow of Fran's Chocolates. I'd had success with the devil's food cake recipe in Malgieri's book twice last fall, and one of my chefs at pastry school used to work for Fran Bigelow and helped with the production of the photos and drawings in the book (if I remember correctly, the hands in the drawings at the beginning of the book are hers), so I trusted both books to have good recipes.

Now, as I said, I've had way too many bad baking days before, and I really wanted to get it right this time. Most of my misadventures in the kitchen have been centered around birthday cakes. I actually swore off making them for a long time, thinking that it was my old, malfunctioning oven's fault that the cakes never turned out right. Also, I knew that the other main cause for substandard baking is my tendency to cut corners and get lazy when I'm cooking in my own kitchen. This was never a problem in school or at the restaurant or the B&B, so now I make very sure now to do things deliberately and professionally when I bake.

I was off to such a good start. Other than some worry over the way the batter for the chocolate cupcakes turned out, I felt very organized and in control of the situation. The white chocolate cake batter turned out to be gorgeous, this billowing silky mass that I'm guessing is what Cloud 9 must be made out of. But the dark chocolate cupcakes...well, I can't tell you for sure whose fault the disaster was on that one. Was it the recipe? Was it my paranoia of over baking them? Was it the unsweetened chocolate I used, that was maybe a little past its prime? Without making the recipe again, I can't say for sure.

The batter was weird, very watery, but I assumed that was because the author's stated intent was to make very moist cupcakes (they were, indeed, very moist, almost fudgy, which I can't fault at all). It was very hard to get into the cupcake wrappers cleanly, even pouring it from a measuring cup with a pour spout, because it was so thin it just ran down the outside of the cup as soon as I tipped it downward. The chocolate also was an issue, as it didn't melt but stayed in little tiny flecks. I wanted to blame the recipe on that one, too, because he instructed to melt it by pouring boiling water over it (and thus, in my mind, creating an environment perfect for the chocolate to seize if it didn't emulsify right away), but then the same thing happened later with a different recipe and the same chocolate. I feel like I underbaked them, but they were in the oven for ten minutes longer than the recipe said, so...I'm still perplexed.

They looked and smelled beautiful in the oven, but fell when they came out, quickly and drastically. I wish I had a picture of those chocolate sinkholes. I was disappointed, mostly in myself because I knew that's where the blame should probably land, given my past track record. But then the white chocolate cupcakes went in, and they looked and smelled so beautiful that I wasn't too worried. After all, cupcakes are easy to hide under mounds of frosting.

Back to the white chocolate variety. I had high hopes these would outshine my failure with the dark chocolate ones. I knew that using a cake batter for cupcakes was risky, but I thought the problem would be overbaking them, not underbaking them. So, once again, I pulled them out way too soon. These, unlike the chocolate ones, ended up being beyond repair, because I waited too long to decide to put them back in the oven and never managed to get them to bake all the way through.

Cue mental breakdown. Tears were shed. Oaths to never bake again were uttered. It wasn't pretty. Bad baking days never are.

Fortunately, Baker Bee rode up on his white horse (i.e. rolled out of bed) brandishing a shiny whisk and saved me, despite my ranting and raving and general foul mood. While I took a soothing shower, he made another batch of cupcakes, this time using a recipe from our trusty copy of Joy of Cooking, which is where I should have gone for my cupcake recipe. Other than the chocolate not melting properly, his were cupcakes--high rising domes of very cake-ish cake.

I was feeling a bit down in the dumps about my lousy cupcakes. The white chocolate ones, despite tasting fabulous, weren't something I could serve to anyone (except Baker Bee, who thinks they taste like the perfect pound cake of all things). My chocolate ones were visibly inferior to Mr. Bee's, which is fine in other areas of cooking but I like to think that I got some sort of useful skills out of pastry school that I can contribute to our kitchen.

Time was running out. I turned to the quickest thing to frost them with that would look impressive: torched meringue. It just looks cool, and it's one of those things like ganache that really isn't hard to make at all, but if you don't know how to make it and brown it you wouldn't know where to start. We had meringue on my wedding cake and everyone loved it. So I started piping it on Baker Bee's cupcakes. I played around with it a bit, remembering the way that piping meringue on top of meringue produced an interesting visual contrast. It looked fun and festive, but what would I do to make the fallen cupcakes not look like ugly stepsisters beside them?

Then it came to me. Earlier in the week, I'd had this strong urge to make Obama cupcakes--faux Hostess chocolate cupcakes, but with the white squiggle writing "Obama" in cursive. Not an original idea, but I really wanted to do it...and then didn't. But on Saturday I had 18 cupcakes with gaping holes staring up at me, and a Kitchen Aid bowl full of Swiss meringue, and...well, you do the math. The fun twist I came up with was to fill the hole with meringue and mound some on the top of the cupcake as well, then torch it before dipping the top in the ganache. That made the meringue a lot more stable, and possibly imparted a hint of toasted marshmallow to the flavor (more research is needed to confirm this). Plus, it made the cupcakes look like they had risen and stayed that way, which wasn't a bad thing at all.

On some of them, I tried to pipe the white squiggle, but the meringue wasn't behaving properly when piped that thinly (hence the bad handwriting on the cupcakes...normally, I'm pretty good at that--oh boy, there goes the old ego again), so I just left a lot of them dressed in only their glossy ganache. Baker Bee thinks I should figure out how to make them fall again in the future so I could make filled cupcakes again, and although I pointed out that there are techniques for getting the filling inside the cupcake, I think it might not be a bad idea.

At the party, I stacked them tiered-cake style with the help of a few cake stands. All together, they looked great. Not perfect, but that's coming from the mouth of a self-critical perfectionist. I was happy with them at the end, and they provided a great sugar high for the rousing round of Cranium and custom vampire-themed Mad Libs. (If you look closely, you'll see that one of the cupcakes was meant to be a vampire.)



The funny thing is that even though both batches were chocolate cupcakes, and I used the same meringue on both of them, with the only difference being the ganache, they were both very, very different cupcakes, both good in their own way. A lot of people seemed to think my fallen ones with the ganache were better, and they certainly were more intense on the chocolate, but the day after I went to have one bite of Baker Bee's cupcakes with a huge crown of spiky meringue on it and ended up eating the whole thing.

Here's the Swiss meringue recipe I use out of my notes from pastry school, in case you're in need of a good one. The beauty of Swiss meringue as opposed to Italian and French is its stretch, gooey, marshmallowy consistency. Technically, Italian meringue is more stable, but Swiss meringue holds up very well on cakes in my experience, and I love the texture of it. The meringue on the gelato coppetta I wrote about in my last post was undoubtedly Swiss, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.

Swiss Meringue
(printable version)

Egg whites 8 oz (250 g)
Fine granulated sugar 1 lb (500 g)

Procedure

Place the egg whites and sugar in a stainless steel bowl or in the top of a double boiler. Beat with a whisk (more near the end than at first) over hot water until the mixture is hot about 120°F.* Transfer to the bowl of a mixer and whip at high speed until stiff peaks form. Turn down speed to cool.

* I learned to test the temperature this way from my chef at pastry school: dip your finger in, and if you have to pull your finger out immediately because your cuticles feel like they're on fire, it's ready. The warmer the egg and sugar mixture gets, the more stable the meringue will be.

Vegas, Baby

Vegas, Baby is now hosted at Pie of the Tiger

Wow. It's taken me two weeks to recover from Las Vegas and write about something here, especially Vegas itself. It was my first time there, though, so I suppose that explains the odd exhaustion. That and I'd intended to write a post about the food there and felt like I had come home with much less material for a post than I'd hoped for. When I agreed to accompany Baker Bee on the trip, I had grand plans of making the most of the time that he was off at the CES convention and visiting every pastry destination on the strip, sampling and photographing along the way. Once I was there, all I found myself doing during the day was walking, walking, walking, and with all the walking I never felt like indulging in a pastry when I found one.



However, I will mention the two culinary highlights of the trip for me: the vegetarian crepe at Jean-Phillippe Patisserie inside the Bellagio and pretty much everything at Mario Batali's Enoteca San Marco in the Venetian.

The crepe was not what I expected from the description, and I was slightly wary considering I hadn't had a crepe I liked in Europe last summer, not even in Paris (I'm way too picky about crepe texture, apparently), but this one was heaven: a beautifully cooked crepe, soft like I like them, enfolding a potent thick, tomatoey sauce in which small chunks of several different Mediterranean vegetables also proclaimed their presence. Beneath that was a bed of melted Swiss cheese, and a lightly-dressed salad of mixed greens and cherry tomatoes (if I'm not remembering something wrong) on the side. This was beautifully presented--even the disposable plate and utensils were pretty classy, looking like a square glass plate and actual shiny metal flatware, despite their plastic pedigree. I really wanted to go back there and try the pastries with Baker Bee along to help taste a few of them--theirs were by far the most elegant, interesting, and meticulous that I saw on the Strip--but it was not to be. Next time.



And how could I stop myself from visiting the world's largest chocolate fountain again? I have a lot of history with chocolate fountains--well, one particular chocolate fountain, but we had a lot of good times. But that's another story for another time. The scope of Jean-Phillippe's is truly Willy Wonkian.



The Enoteca came recommended to us by our friend Joe--yes, Joe of the amazing garlic-chipotle sauce Mr. Bee wrote about two posts ago, so it was no surprise that it was good. But it was a surprise that it was good, solidly good, the way that invigorates you from the inside out. Out of all the antipasti, the one we enjoyed the most was the gnocco fritto, or fried pizza dough. I thought this might be good but possibly bland, but no, no way, especially not with the grated cheese sprinkled on top of it and seasoning it. I had the Cavatappi, which the menu notes has a roasted cauliflower ragu, chili and rosemary. So good. The ragu was incredibly flavorful, hitting all the right notes. If I could have it every time I ate pasta, I think I could give up tomato-based pasta sauce for life. The crowning glory of the night, though, was my lemon meringue coppetta, with graham cracker gelato, lemon gelato, and a flourish of meringue on top. If it hadn't been for the other people there, I would have licked the martini glass it came in--twice. The only thing that didn't score highly with me there was the bread. I don't know if it was an off day for the baker, or if it's just the way they make it there, but it was too dark and burnt-tasting for me.

One other food-related thought: I think there must be some sort of brainwashing radio signals or something in the M&Ms store, because ever since I went there I've really, really wanted some M&Ms, despite the artificial coloring and general mass-produced nature of them. Scratch that, it's more that M&Ms have looked extraordinarily appealing, especially when highlighted on top of baked goods. I remember wanting to buy merchandise in the store and then reminding myself that I don't have an M&M collection, or a particular connection to them in any way, shape or form. However, as impressed as I was with the Wall of Every M&M Color Imaginable, I managed to walk out of the store without tasting that rainbow.

Rainbow Cookies

Rainbow Cookies is now hosted at Pie of the Tiger

To finish off writing about the Christmas treats I made, here's my last big project of the season (that I managed to get to: Rainbow Cookies from Sherry Yard's fantastic book The Secrets of Baking.



These were hugely popular with everyone who received them. How could they not be, looking that adorably festive on a cookie tray? Everyone wanted to know what they were, and thanks to Yard's engaging storytelling in her second book, I had details to give them on their Italian origins.

They're very pretty, of course, but they taste much more sophisticated than you might expect. It helped that I used a couple of aging bars of very dark Michel Cluizel (my absolute favorite chocolatier in the world) chocolate in the glaze, but the cake's sweetness and almond flavor are very light and subtle. It was only when I tasted one that I realized there was no almond flavoring in the recipe, only almond paste and almond flour, and I think from the photo in the book I was expecting something with the concentrated flavor of the extract.

The only other modification I did to the recipe was to add apricot brandy to the simple syrup I soaked the cake layers with. In my opinion, that was an Incredibly Good Call, and I would even add a little more next time. The whole effect of the "cookie" was good, but the almond cake needed something extra to stand up well against the chocolate glaze. That could've been the due to the chocolate I used, but I wouldn't want to use anything less potent in the future.

I'll definitely make these again--I'll probably have to, considering how much everyone liked them. Next year, though, I'll cut them in smaller pieces. Mine were pretty small, but I found these were best one bite at a time, and more than once I noticed people wanting to split one.

Chocolate Covered Cherries, Part 2

Chocolate Covered Cherries, Part 2 is now hosted at Pie of the Tiger

Printable Recipe

Last time on As the Fondant Liquefies, we made cherry-flavored fondant and dipped maraschino cherries in it, in preparation for dipping them in chocolate. Really, that's the hardest part of the whole process.

I decided to make another batch of cherries after the ones I documented in the original post and test the theory the Geeky Gnu and I had about pulling the hot fondant from the start instead of trying to cool it with a scraper on my small piece of marble. That and I wanted to prove I could do it all by myself. It worked very well, actually. After awhile, I got into a rhythm where I was kneading it like a cat, pressing half the mass of hot sugar down on the Silpat-covered marble with one hand and then the other half with the other, stretching it as high as I could each time. The fondant seemed to turn out much better--and crystallize much faster--this way.


Here's what it looked like when I managed to pull it away from my fingers and deposit it in a bowl:



And here it is after resting it overnight:



You can see how matte and powdery it looks, which I think is what we were going for. The problem with agitating the fondant by pulling and kneading it by hand is that the corn syrup imparts serious levels of stickiness to the stuff. Latex gloves were useless, because the fondant instantly bonded to them and wouldn't let go--fortunately, it wasn't so attached to my bare hands. My arms and hands and shoulders got very tired from the process, but at the same time I was fascinated by just how sticky it was, gluing my fingers together to the point that it was difficult to spread them. The novelty of it (and, of course, the sense of accomplishment, after having the task taken away from me by the big strong men the night before) definitely compensated for any and all physical discomfort. It was way more amazing than tiring, and I had fun laughing at myself for getting into this literal mess.

Mr. Gnu also made another batch of fondant using a food processor or a mixer, but he'll have to speak to how that worked out himself since I wasn't there for the making or using of it. I hear it turned out well...and he didn't have his fingers stuck together for twenty minutes.



The fondant dipping went much as it had the last time, although I did pick up a new trick. Mr. Gnu noted that the cherries that leaked the most at the top tended to be the ones that had fondant coating their stems. When I dipped my own batch, I tried to be very careful not to get any on the stems, but it seemed more important to make sure every glimpse of red cherry was blotted out by pink sugariness. Once the fondant had set, though, I found it was easy to remove just the fondant on the stems with a quick twist of it around the stems between my fingers, breaking and crumbling it away and leaving the cherry completely coated.

All right, that's enough about the fondant! It's time to move onto the reason we're all here: the chocolate.

First, you'll want to temper your chocolate using your favorite method (if you have one; if not, I suspect a Google search could take you to a better explanation than I would give at the moment). You can use white, milk, or dark chocolate for this, depending on how sweet you want the results to be. I lean toward a full-flavored dark chocolate to contrast with the intensely sweet cherries and fondant. The Callebaut I picked up was only about 52%, but it's a wonderful chocolate with plenty of cocoa flavor, not too much sugar, and a rich texture.



One of the biggest problems with chocolate-covered cherries is their tendency to leak through any weak spots in the chocolate, especially around the stems and on the bottoms, where the cherry will often sink through the chocolate before it sets and leave an instant hole underneath. I'd run into this when I'd made chocolate-covered cherries for the first time, so I tried a technique I found in Chocolates and Confections: Formula, Theory, and Technique for the Artisan Confectioner. I did a quick-and-dirty version of the advice he had, and piped discs of chocolate and let them set before I started to dip the cherries (you can see a few of them in the photo above). Then, I set each freshly-coated cherry onto a disc. It kept a layer of chocolate between the cherry and the Silpat, so for the most part it was a success, although I did have a couple where cherry syrup leaked out between the base and the chocolate around the cherry.

After that, it's just a matter of covering the cherries in chocolate. I found that holding the stem and dragging the cherry from side to side once or twice, letting the chocolate come right up to the stem, coated them nicely. Then I pulled them up, let a little of the chocolate drip off, and touched the bottom of the cherry to the surface of the chocolate once or twice to encourage more of the excess chocolate to stay behind. Once I was satisfied that there wasn't enough chocolate to form a gigantic foot around the bottom on the tray, I set the cherry on one of the discs I piped beforehand and left it to set up.



I also decorated some in the second batch with multicolored sanding sugar and sprinkles. Even though it looks okay in that photo, I don't recommend using the sanding sugar on chocolate. It looked pretty at first, but as the chocolate set the sugar took on a murky quality, especially from a distance. The sprinkles, however, looked bright and cheerful. They were a hit with a lot of people, but I didn't feel like the cherries needed the extra crunch from the sprinkles. There's enough contrast between the gooey centers and the chocolate as it is.



This is an example of a leaking cherry, although often they're more messy than this one. As I've noted before, the best way to avoid this is to make sure the cherry itself is completely covered in fondant, and then make sure the fondant is completely covered in an even layer of chocolate. Still, even if you're careful, you'll probably make a few cherries weep. Don't worry. They still taste just as good, and they don't seem to spoil any faster...not that I've ever had cherries around long enough to know just how long their shelf life is.

As for storing the cherries, if you don't have a baker's rack and zillions of sheet pans in your kitchen (someday, someday....), I recommend hitting up your friendly neighborhood pizza joint and asking very, very nicely for a few unused boxes. (Leave a generous tip in exchange, so they'll be open to doing it again!) Mr. Gnu was kind enough to stop at Pagliacci's on the way over and pick up ten extra large ones (we didn't need that many, but I know they will get used in the future since I already am temporarily storing coconut macaroons in one, and I've used them to dry royal icing flowers in the past). Line the box with parchment or wax paper to protect the box from leaking cherries, and you'll be able to reuse it.

If you use invertase in your fondant (see the first cherry post for more info on that), the cherries will need to sit out at room temperature for three to four days before they will be completely liquefied. If you don't have invertase, the cherries will take up to two weeks to liquefy, which means you have to plan ahead. Invertase is easily purchased online and inexpensive, although I now have a larger quantity of it living in my fridge than I'll use in my lifetime.




In the end, the cherries were a huge hit with everyone we gave them to. I wrapped two packages together for each family and couple in clear-topped plastic containers, one of cookies and one with chocolate-covered cherries and rainbow cookies. More than once, the person opening the present handed the cookies to the other recipient and hid the cherries for themselves! I think the best part about them is that they aren't hard to make, but enough delicious ingredients and extremely pleasant work go into them that they truly feel like you've made them with love, which I know I did.

But I can't help but wish that I could have given them dressed in just their shimmering, shiny pink sugar coatings. I suppose that's one of those rare glimpse of ineffable beauty that are too fragile or fleeting to be seen by anyone but the cook.



Printable Recipe

Test Cherry #1

Test Cherry #1 is now hosted at Pie of the Tiger

Test Cherry: Day One
Originally uploaded by the other tiger

As I was dipping a second round of cherries yesterday, I had three lose their stems and become "test cherries" or, in other words, the cherries I get to eat before they're ready without feeling guilty for wasting one I could be giving to someone else, or at least eating in its final form. (Of course, I have cherries from last Wednesday that are already liquefied, but I have to do quality control on every batch, you know.)

In the interest of tracking how quickly the invertase liquefies the fondant, I decided to dissect and photograph them before taste testing each day.

After (not quite) twenty-four hours, the invertase and cherry juice have converted the fondant immediately around the cherry to liquid, but most of the fondant is still firm and attached to the chocolate coating.

Chocolate-Covered Cherries, Part 1

Chocolate Covered Cherries, Part 1 is now hosted at Pie of the Tiger

Printable Recipe

Heading into my senior year in college, my mom and I realized that I was going to most likely be moving not just across town but out of town after graduation and my wedding the next summer, ending the days of having just a short trip on the freeway between us. I'd been getting more and more interested in cooking since the trip we took together to Turkey two years before that, and we both wanted to learn to decorate cakes, so we ended up enrolling in the beginning Wilton classes. And so I started down the path toward pastry school, elbow-deep in Crisco-based frosting in the back room of the local gigantic craft store.

I'm not entirely sure what prompted it, but that Christmas I became obsessed with making fancy little candies for everyone's presents. Most of them are not so fancy in retrospect, utilizing grocery store coating chocolate and far too much sugar, but then and now the crown jewel of it all was the chocolate-covered cherry. I actually used real chocolate to coat those. I didn't know anything about tempering chocolate then, so they were soon covered in blooming cocoa butter (not that I even knew that was the problem), but they still tasted delicious. Ever year since, I've intended to make them again--and make them right this time, with tempered chocolate and invertase (the enzyme used in commercial cherries to make the centers liquefy)--but even when I've acquired the required cherries, they haven't gotten made.

This year, things were going to be different. This year I lined up a cherry-candying buddy, sort of like a workout buddy but more fattening. Geeky Gnu and I made plans to get together and make them as soon as the invertase showed up. We had to wait a bit longer than we liked on account of the fact that Chef Rubber was waiting for the invertase to be made, but it finally showed up on Tuesday. I was feeling lazy earlier in the week, but fortunately I was talked into making the cherries on Wednesday night rather than Thursday night, which was good because the difference between the two was seven inches of snow.

Part of doing things right this time was finding a recipe that called specifically for the invertase, rather than just adding a few drops of the stuff to the one from Woman's Day I'd gotten off of the internet all those years ago. I found some hopeful-looking info by searching eGullet, but as of Wednesday afternoon I still didn't have a recipe in hand. I was wandering through Barnes and Noble, picking up a couple of presents I'd waited too long to order off of Amazon, when what to my wondering eyes should appear but the book I've been looking for all my life, standing there on B&N's prominent cookbook display: Chocolates and Confections: Formula, Theory, and Technique for the Artisan Confectioner.

It had a recipe for fondant--the confectioner's sort, not the kind you peel off of wedding cakes before eating them. It had a full explanation of invertase and how to use it. It had all sorts of technical information about chocolate and sugar I didn't have memorized yet.

It came home with me. I couldn't resist.

After a quick perusal of the pertinent pages, I drained the cherries, reserving the juice, and set about lining them up to dry on cooling racks padded with a double layer of paper towel to absorb the juice. A lot of recipes recommend doing this the night before, but we had to be somewhat flexible dependent on the weather.

A couple quick facts for calculating recipe size:
- Average number of cherries per 36 oz. jar (Star brand, from a two-pack bought at Costco): 73.25
- Average number of wasted cherries per a jar due to missing stems: 6

Once Geeky showed up, we started in on a half batch of the fondant recipe in my beautiful shiny new book. The general idea is to take five parts sugar, one part glucose syrup, and one part water and bring them to a boil while stirring constantly. Since I was approaching this whole fondant thing with a teensy-weensy bit too much confidence, I figured I'd go right ahead and substitute the cherry juice for the water in the recipe without bothering to do any boring math to keep the ratio of sugar and water in line. Whether or not this contributed to some of our later troubles, I can't say. I can say with certainty that it turned the fondant a fairy-tale shade of pink that made the dipped cherries look like a smooth, shimmery bonbon out of a computer-generated cartoon. There's a certain magic to dipping these cherries that makes you not care about the evils of artificial redness.

Once the syrup is boiling, we quit stirring (okay, maybe there was a little forgetfulness in play here and it took awhile before we figured out we were supposed to stop) and cooked the syrup to 243° F (it may have gotten a little higher than that before we got it out of the pot).

Next, we poured it out onto my woefully small marble slab. The directions say to sprinkle cold water on the marble first and then also on top of the sugar; we managed to sprinkle it on top of the sugar, which started spilling toward the edge of the too-small marble due to the fact that I set it down on the one part of our counter that our discount granite guys didn't install anywhere near level.

The action didn't stop once we had that under control. We let the sugar cool to 120° F, more or less, and then began the process of agitating it into crystallizing by scraping it back and forth on the marble, much like one would do with chocolate only much, much more of a pain since chocolate flows and sugar sticks and holds on like the marble is the last life preserver on the Titanic. This required a lot more strength than I was anticipating, so I mostly tried to hold the marble in place and scrape the sugar off the main scraper with a metal bench scraper.

The book says this step should take twenty (very long) minutes for the fondant to fully crystallize, "turning into a short-textured mass." Twenty minutes came and went without the fondant changing from its consistency of a very gooey, sticky cousin of pulled sugar, even as it became tougher and tougher to scrape.

Finally, we resorted to scraping it entirely off the marble and pulling it like it actually was pulled sugar. This helped...to a point. We never got that short-textured mass, but after awhile it did take on more of a...well, I wouldn't say it got any less shiny, but the inside of the mass looked more and more matte somehow, and thus seemed to be fairly well crystallized.

The next step in the directions is to allow the fondant to rest overnight, but we didn't have overnight, so we went straight to dipping the cherries.

To coat the cherries, we heated the fondant over a water bath to 160° F, thinned it a little with some more of the cherry juice (the recipe suggests brandy), and added 1/4 tsp of invertase just before dipping.

Once all of that was accomplished, the dipping went very easily. Keeping the bowl over the water bath (with the gas turned down to the lowest setting) kept the fondant thin enough to coat the cherries without too much trouble. As each one was coated, we let them drip over the bowl, removed the extra fondant hanging from the bottom with the edge of a wooden spoon, and set them to cool on a sheet pan covered with a Silpat.

I don't think anyone who was there could get over how pretty they looked. I really wanted to leave them like that...only the invertase would have left all of that shiny pink sugar in a puddle around the cherry after a day or two. We did give into temptation and try a couple of misshapen and stemless cherries that way, though, and as pretty as the pink ones are, they're much better with the chocolate. So that makes up for having to cover up the sugar coating.

One thing we didn't learn until later was that it's better not to let the fondant coat the stem as well as the cherry. Coating the stem gives the invertase-laced fondant an express lane to the open air, along which it can ooze out and drip all over the chocolate.

Because we only made a half batch of the fondant--enough for about a quarter of the cherries I had drained and dried for us--I made some of the home-style "fondant" I had used the first time I made the cherries and had a couple of helpers cover them with me while Geeky dipped the other cherries in the real fondant. The recipe itself is very straightforward and my only addition to it was 1/2 tsp of invertase, so I won't get into detail on that, but I have a tip or two about how to get it onto the cherries in a smooth and even fashion.

The main trick is to dust your hands/latex gloves with enough powdered sugar that the "fondant" remains dry as you roll. Also, using a smaller piece than you think you need to cover the cherry and squishing it to fit helps avoid making big, clunky-looking cherries. Once you have the cherry covered, put it between your hands with the stem sticking out between the middle and index fingers of your dominant hand. Roll the cherry very quickly and very lightly, around and around. This should make the top and bottom of the cherry smooth, but make the middle stick out, so turn the cherry so the stem pokes out toward you (between your thumbs) and roll it again, still quickly and lightly. Finally, roll it around sort of every which way in your palms to smooth it all over, once again quickly and lightly.

I emphasize the quickly and lightly part because the less pressure you put on the cherry, the rounder and nicer it will look. All of that should take 30 seconds at the most--the quicker you do it, the lighter your touch is likely to be. Hopefully.



The next step is, of course, actually dipping the cherries in chocolate, which will be the subject of the next (hopefully shorter) post. But see what I mean about cartoon bonbons? I love that pink fondant.

Chocolate-Covered Cherries, Part 2

Printable Recipe