Teatime

If you come for a late lunch at Honey & Co, you can almost hear all of us catching our breath after the lunchtime madness. Downstairs the kitchen will be sending up the last lunch orders while cleaning and filling the pass for the dinner shift team who are about to arrive. Julia will be in the walk-in fridge with her clipboard, going through every single container, trying to assess how much food we need to prepare for that evening, as well as what and how much we need to order for the next day; or on the phone, when she sees what time it is, rushing to get the fish order in before 4pm. The porters will be doing a thorough clean of the kitchen, stairs, bathroom and dining room (when they are done, it’s as if lunch had never happened). Upstairs post-lunch espressos will be downed in one, and bills requested and paid. Dee will be by the door saying goodbye to an old customer who has become a friend, or to a new customer who may yet become one. The sunlight will be creeping into our north-facing window, the rays in the eyes of the last diners at the window bar, prompting them to ask for the bill, or move to a table.

Once the bar has been cleared and cleaned, the cake parade starts. We move them from the small counter in the back of the restaurant (their exile home during lunch and dinner) to the bar by the front window, center stage. They make their way through the little dining room like catwalk models, turning heads. Diners who have just finished their lunch will have cakes flashed under their noses on the way—this one is lemon drizzle, this one coffee & walnut. Even the strongest of wills bends, and diets die a swift, sweet death. You may be able to resist one cake passed before you, but not a whole procession.

Giorgia will peek upstairs to see how many of her cakes lasted through lunch. While the kitchen was sending up meals, she was baking in her section, the shelves next to her oven slowly filling up, getting ready for teatime—the official time for cakes. They are all by the window now, beautifully arranged, ready to do their job.

General baking guidelines

I have said this before, but it is worth saying again—always read the entire recipe before starting. I can’t stress this enough. Make sure you have a clear idea of what is required, and where possible I strongly advise collecting all your recipe ingredients before you start, if only because it reduces the chance of leaving out something vital.

Baking is quite different from cooking generally and I therefore advise sticking to the recipes as written, at least for the first time you prepare them. Once you get the gist it’ll be easier for you to put your own creative stamp on things—that’s how the best recipes are created.

When baking cakes I always heat my oven to the required temperature and make sure it is hot before I put the cake in. I bake in the center of the oven unless the recipe specifies otherwise. I also try not to overcrowd the oven in order to ensure an even bake.

I’ve been training pastry chefs for years and one of the biggest challenges is teaching them how to judge when a cake is baked. It isn’t as easy as it sounds since so many factors go into the equation: the temperature of your base ingredients; the heat of your oven; the tin you are using. Always use your own judgement as well as the time suggested. Incidentally, I never use the skewer method, since some cakes should be moist when they come out of the oven, and some cakes contain fruit, which makes it impossible to tell. I decided a long time ago that this method simply doesn’t work for me.

Here are my guidelines for telling when a cake is baked:

• It should have a lovely smell of baked goods—the first indication that a cake is baked is the fragrance of caramelizing sugar and flour running through the house.

• The color should be nice and golden and ideally even all over. If the center is a much lighter color the cake may not be baked all the way through. If you are worried about the sides over-coloring, create a little aluminum foil jacket that will cover and protect the sides while leaving the center exposed.

• The texture should be the same all over. Use the tip of your finger to poke the cake gently in the center and at the outer edges of the cake’s surface. In most cases (I will always mention when there is an exception) the cake should feel rather firm, so if your finger sinks in a little the cake isn’t baked. The reason you press on the rim as well as the center is to get a feel for what a baked cake feels like.

• Always turn the cake tin around halfway through the baking time. Every oven I have encountered in my life bakes unevenly, so turning the tin will help you to achieve the most even result possible.

• The last and strangest of all my guidelines is to listen to your cake. You may think I’m mad but give it a go. Take the cake out, lower your ear towards the surface and listen: if you hear crackling, bubbling and hissing, put it back in the oven—it isn’t baked. If you don’t hear anything, it is most likely ready.

I tend to use a butter spray to grease my tins and molds as it is hassle-free and easy to apply evenly, but you can, of course, use soft or melted butter and brush it on instead.

For some recipes I suggest lining your tins with baking parchment or dusting with flour. This will help you to get a better result with cake mixes that are harder to remove from their tins. There can be many reasons for this, including the amount of butter and sugar in the batter and the end crumb consistency. You will just have to trust me on this.

These pictures show you my usual lining methods. Leaving the excess baking parchment hanging over the sides of the loaf tin will help you to lift the baked cake or loaf out.

In general I only really like to use silicone molds for specific cakes (like financiers), as I find that most cakes benefit from the even distribution of heat that a classic metal tin provides. I will always note in the recipe if I think it is a cake that bakes well in silicone; I recommend that otherwise you stick to metal tins (unless you have a silicone mold you love and trust and you want to take your chances with it).

I have specified the size and shape of the molds I use in each recipe and have tried not to use a huge variety. If you really like the sound of a cake but don’t have the correct tin, try it in a different one or bake one large cake instead of small individual ones (but then please take into account that baking times will vary).

Small cakes

These are the little jewels of the pastry world. They are meant to impress, plus they allow each person to have their own perfect cake without sharing it—the best kind of cake. Weighing the amount that goes into the individual tins or molds will ensure that you achieve the best-looking, most evenly baked cakes possible. The selection at Honey & Co is constantly changing, but here are a few of our favorites.

Spiced chocolate & prune cakes

Makes 6 small bundt cakes

Gluten-free

The first flat we shared in Tel Aviv was a short walk from the buzzing Carmel Market. One of our biggest pleasures was stocking up the kitchen with edible treats for the weekend. On Friday mornings we would nip down to the market for fresh fruit and vegetables. We got to know all the stallholders and learnt who brought the best produce: peaches from the desert; mushrooms from the cool north; preserved bitter olives sold by the Druze lady; cured fish and feta from the Turkish deli. Our next stop might be the fishmonger or butcher, and on the walk home we would stop for flowers. We would always end up at Erez Komarovsky’s (a wonderful baker and chef). A visit to his bakery was the highlight of our weekend run; full of breads and bakes that were all so tempting that choosing just one was sheer agony. This combination of chocolate and prunes is shamelessly stolen from him. It makes so much sense and is so delicious that I’m surprised not to see it everywhere.

For the prunes

200g pitted prunes

150g/ml boiling water

1 Earl Grey tea bag

1 tbsp brandy

For the cake batter

4 eggs

100g granulated sugar

250g unsalted butter

250g dark chocolate

25g cornstarch

25g cocoa powder

½ tsp ground cinnamon

½ tsp ground ginger

½ tsp ground cardamom

a pinch of freshly ground black pepper

The prunes need to soak for at least an hour (or overnight, if you are feeling organized). Put the prunes in a bowl. Make a strong cup of tea with the boiling water and tea bag, and pour it (bag and all) over the prunes. Allow to sit for 15 minutes before adding the brandy, then infuse for a minimum of 45 minutes at room temperature (or place in the fridge for tomorrow).

Remove the tea bag and use a stick blender or food processor to blitz the prunes with the soaking liquid until you have a rough, chunky purée with some bits of prune still visible. Preheat the oven to 375°F/350°F convection and lightly grease the bundt tins (use butter spray or brush with melted butter).

Use an electric whisk to beat the eggs and sugar at very high speed until they go thick and very fluffy, so that you have a strong sabayon (more notes on this here). Melt the butter and chocolate together to form a smooth mixture (instructions here). Place the dry ingredients in a separate bowl and mix together.

Fold the chocolate paste and then the prune purée into the sabayon. Add the dry ingredients and fold carefully to retain as much air as possible. Divide the batter between the baking tins (about 150g in each).

Bake in the center of the oven for 10 minutes, then turn the tins around and leave for a further 6 minutes. Allow to cool in the tins for at least 30 minutes. The cakes may not seem set when you remove them from the oven, but don’t worry—baking with chocolate sometimes has this effect. They will set once cold, so stick to the baking times here.

Once the cakes have cooled, flip them out of the tins. Serve with whipped cream or just as they are. These will keep in the fridge for a week or so, but bring them up to room temperature before eating to taste them at their best.

Bleeding hearts (vanilla, rose & strawberry cakes)

Makes 6 muffin-sized cakes

These work beautifully in silicone molds

The name may be cheesy, but that is the only criticism you could make of these cakes, which are as pretty on the outside as they are within. Cut open to reveal the red heart of the matter. The batter needs to rest for at least an hour—you can keep it in the fridge for up to a week and bake variations on these cakes using different jams, fruits and nuts. This strawberry one is my favorite. The only other version that comes close in our kitchen is one with Nutella piped inside and hazelnuts sprinkled on top.

For the cake batter

140g unsalted butter

200g confectioners’ sugar

110g ground almonds

50g all-purpose flour

seeds from ½ vanilla pod

120g egg whites (from about 3–4 eggs)

For the filling

6 tsp strawberry & rose jam (here), or ordinary strawberry jam with a couple of drops of rose water added

For the icing

170g confectioners’ sugar

1–2 strawberries (or ½ tsp strawberry jam)

½ tsp rose water

a few vanilla seeds (¼ pod) or 1 tsp vanilla extract

1 tbsp light corn syrup or honey

Melt the butter in a small pan on a high heat and cook until it starts to foam, turns golden and catches a little at the bottom, then remove from the stove.

A food processor will give the best results for these cakes (if you don’t have one you can make the batter by hand, but you will need to be quite vigorous). Place the dry ingredients and vanilla seeds in the food processor and mix together. With the food processor running, pour in the egg whites in a constant steady stream and mix to combine thoroughly. Follow with the hot burnt butter, pouring it slowly into the processor as it works, making sure to scrape in the sticky brown bits at the bottom of the saucepan too—they add great flavor. Set the batter in the fridge to cool for at least an hour (and up to a week).

When you are ready to bake, preheat the oven to 375°F/350°F convection. Lightly grease the silicone molds with butter spray (if using metal molds, lightly butter and flour them). Divide the batter between the molds. It should reach about ¾ inch below the top. Insert a teaspoonful of jam into the heart of each one: simply use the teaspoon to push some batter aside, then slide the jam off. As you pull the spoon out, the batter should rise up and cover the jam.

Place the molds on a baking tray and bake for about 25–30 minutes until the smell is irresistible and the cakes are set to the touch (in this case you can only test the edges, as the center will sink because of the jam underneath). Lay a large piece of baking parchment on top of the tins, set a baking tray on top of that, and very carefully flip them over and allow to sit for 20 minutes.

Mix the icing ingredients together in a bowl, squashing the strawberries a little to extract their juice and color. The icing should be the texture of thick honey, so if it seems a little thick, add a couple of drops of water.

Remove the cakes from the molds and leave to cool entirely on a wire rack before spooning or piping the icing on generously. Let the natural flow of the icing gently trickle down the sides and set. If you want, you can top each one with some fresh rose petals or a strawberry. Once set, these keep at room temperature for 2–3 days, staying lovely and moist.