Coconut Cake Revival - Recap

Ah, coconut cake. A balance of southern sensibility and South Seas sensation, says Alton. It is moist and fragrant, a desert island dessert. And the best place to find it is where Alton starts the episode: a small southern diner supplied by a local cake lady. Rarely seen and never photographed, this particular town’s cake lady is a high priestess of her craft. Alton bites into his cake and... It’s not “her” cake. He asks the waitress: it seems that the diner gets all its cakes from Cake Smart, now. Folks do like a value! Alton casts a disappointed glance at his dessert; it is nothing but white boxed cake with a whipped shortening frosting and some old coconut flakes slapped on the side.

As Alton muses aloud, another patron agrees. Alton asks after the cake lady and learns from his fellow diner the rumor that the cake lady found herself squeezed out of the market. Unable to compete with Cake Smart pricing, she lost her customers. A few folks complained at first – mostly old timers, but folks being folks, most got used to the new cakes. Heck, give some folks a big enough piece and they’ll get used to anything.

It seems to Alton that another standard bearer in the war against mediocrity has fallen. He’s taken all he can take and he can’t take no more! The first thing wrong with the cake is the processed coconut flakes. Authentic southern coconut cake needs fresh coconut. But if coconuts weren’t widely available before the 20th century, and the cake’s history goes back beyond that, then where?

Fortunately, cake historian Nancie McDermott sits next to Alton and can answer his questions. Fresh coconuts originally came through the Caribbean via southern ports such as New Orleans and Charleston. They penetrated the south, and southern cooking, long before they were widely available elsewhere. Ms. McDermott explains that layer cakes are a relatively recent innovation. They required both a cast iron stove and baking powder and so did not appear until at least the 1850s when these things make home baking of such a delicate dessert possible. The first layer cakes featured very thin layers joined with jelly or jam and folks called them jelly cakes. The coconut cake itself dates back only to the late nineteenth century, but it has remained wildly popular ever since. Alton asks her to confirm that authentic recipes called for fresh grated coconut and she does, but adds that the challenges of getting that meant such cakes were for special occasions and holidays. Then her phone rings (with a variation of the Good Eats theme) and she must go – she’s tracking a “cake lady” and has received a lead. Alton asks her to tell the cake lady that he’s not going to give up the fight or forget the flavor and she agrees to do so. As for Alton? He’s got shopping to do.

At the Whole Foods market, three displays of coconuts confront Alton. They’re not different types, they’re different ways the store sells coconuts. First he sees coconuts still in the hard husk – extremely difficult to harvest. Next he sees cut (immature) coconuts, known for jellylike interiors. Finally, there are mature coconuts freed of their outer husk. This is how most folks know and appreciate the coconut. The meat is firm and full flavored – perfect for this cake. Alton looks for nuts that seem heavy for their size, and that aren’t cracked, weeping from their “eyes” or moldy. When he shakes them, he listens for a good sloshing sound. If there’s no slosh, he cautions, the coconut is likely long in the tooth. Coconuts left alone in their shells last two to four months. Alton buys three.

Back in the kitchen, Alton draws eyebrows over the “eyes” as he explains that Portuguese adventurers in the South Seas during the fifteenth century discovered the coconut. The indentations reminded them of a “coco” or goblin, face, so the name stuck. But the coconut is not a nut at all, it is a drupe.

These eyes are important, for they are the way into the coconut. Alton goes modern, pulling out a power drill to open two of the eyes. A 1/4 or 3/16th inch bit does the job and Alton captures the water – chilled and lidded, it lasts for as long as a week. After drilling, Alton pops the coconuts into a 375º F oven to bake for fifteen minutes to crack the shells.
Then he uses a screwdriver to pry off the cracked shells (an oyster knife would also work). That leaves only the innermost brown husk between the cook and the coconut meat; a vegetable peeler works nicely to remove that. To get any last lingering bits of husk, Alton gives his coconut meat a quick bath, and then (disdaining both the box and rasp style graters as too time consuming) he reaches for his food processor and grating disc to reduce the meat to shreds. Tightly sealed, these will last about a week in the refrigerator, a month in the freezer.

At that point someone knocks on Alton’s door. When he answers it, he finds a coconut with a note attached: the cake lady wants a meeting!

Sometime later Alton stands in a shabby alley bearing a graffito “Cake Lady Rules.” Around the corner and in shadow stands an older woman. Alton explains that folks think she died or retired but she scoffs at that and explains how Cake Smart forced her out of the market. So she and a few other cake ladies have gone underground to await the collapse of society, then to emerge and build a new age where flavor and texture are king! Alton suggests bringing back the coconut cake now could save this civilization but the Cake Lady does not believe him. And even if she did, why would she trust Alton with her secrets? He hastily assures her he’s not trying to steal her recipes. He just wants a little guidance, that’s all. Her cryptic advice is “look to the coconut.”

Alton’s already shredded about a thousand pounds of coconut, but when he tells the Cake Lady that, she jeers. She wonders aloud if he believes that’s all of it, and then explains that he must extract the essence of the pod! He must infuse its life into the cake – milk it for all it’s worth! (As Alton mutters to himself about her cheesy dialog the cake lady disappears). Then he realizes the key was in the word “milk” and knows what to do...

Back at the store, Alton explains that coconut milk is really coconut steeped in a liquid, usually water. Equal parts coconut and water produce milk, while more coconut yields coconut cream. Alton warns the cook not to confuse these with cream of coconut. That is a much thicker brew that sees application in certain mixed drinks. Coconut milk and cream are sometimes difficult to find, and Alton has a feeling the cake lady would prefer a homebrewed product, anyway. The hard way it is...

But that hard way isn’t that hard. To make both coconut milk and coconut cream, Alton boils two percent milk and then adds coconut (twice as much for cream) to it. He lids these jars and tucks them away from an hour to steep. Meanwhile, he moves on to coconut extract, which he makes by adding coconut to vodka. The vodka will extract certain alcohol soluble flavor compounds. That, he tucks into his pantry for a week or so, shaking it every couple of days. At the end of the week, he strains out the solids and saves the extract for later use.

At the end of the hour, Alton pours his coconut milk into the blender and purees it for a minute or so. Then he strains that through a cotton bag to remove the solids. He repeats this for the coconut cream and stashes both decoctions in the refrigerator, where they will last for about a week (they’ll last a month or so in the freezer). Alton notes in passing that a cook could use store bought coconut milk and cream, if they had to...

Nothing’s worse than spending hours on a cake and discovering it won’t come out of the pan. Alton solves this problem with parchment. He folds a large sheet in half twice, and then along an angle twice more to produce a cone-like shape. Putting the point of the cone at the center of his pan, he snips the edge and unfolds the parchment into a round piece. He sprays a little non-stick spray in the pan (making sure not to forget the sides) and then drops in the parchment disc. A little more spray on that disc and the pan is ready.

His batter starts with a standard creaming procedure: butter goes into the mixer for a minute or so and then he slowly adds sugar. While that creams he whisks together flour, baking powder and salt. When the sugar’s thoroughly integrated and the mixture has become rather pale, it is a minute from complete. After that, Alton adds coconut milk, coconut cream and a little of his coconut extract, alternating with the flour mix, adding about a third of each at a time.

Coconut cake is classically a sponge cake – leavened with eggs. Alton beats four egg whites until they reach stiff peaks. He mixes about a third of that into the rest of the batter as best he can. This loosens the batter, and he carefully folds in the rest of the eggs.

Even layer baking depends on even distribution of the batter. To achieve that Alton reaches for his scale. When he’s got the two pans loaded with equal weights of batter he slides them into the oven at 350º F for 20 minutes. Then he exchanges the pans and cooks them for 20 more minutes. He lets the layers cool in the pans for 10 minutes and then turns them out to cool completely.

Alton wants more than two layers, so he plans to split these layers in half. To do that, he rests a layer in an inverted cooling rack in a half sheet pan. That raises the layer up enough that Alton can split it nicely with his extremely long cake knife.

Before frosting, Alton asks himself if there’s any way to infuse more flavor, and the answer is: coconut water. He puts a small amount of the water in a food grade spray bottle and uses this to spritz the layers. While he waits for the liquid to soak in, he faces the frosting.

First, he brings some water to a boil and then reduces the heat to a simmer. Then he adds egg whites to sugar and chases them with cream of tartar, a bit of salt and some coconut water. That goes onto steam from the hot water (in the manner of a double boiler). Alton mixes this at low speed for a minute and then boosts the speed to high for an additional five minutes. When he’s mixed it, Alton removes the icing from the heat and adds the final two flavor enhancements: vanilla extract and (ideally homemade) coconut extract. He beats for another sixty seconds to mix that it and waits about five minutes for it to thicken.

Alton starts with one of his cut layers. A bit of frosting tacks the layer down; Alton puts it cut side down to give himself a smoother surface to ice. Oh, and be sure to remove the parchment. It’s not good eats! Be careful not to get too much frosting between each layer; it will “grease” the layers and they will slide apart. Alton recommends half a cup between each layer. He uses a spatula and a rotating cake platform to spread this very thinly. Atop that, Alton sprinkles a bit of the shredded coconut; it will reinforce the icing. Alton then adds a new layer, cut side up. He avoids placing two cut sides together – that will make a lumpy cake. Because of the pores, a cut side will require more icing, but Alton cautions: still just enough to cover the crumb. Then more shredded coconut and another layer. For the last layer, Alton checks to see which side is best, and applies the layer with that side up. He spreads icing out from the center, as before, but as it falls down the sides, he shapes the sides carefully. Icing in place, he spreads shredded coconut on the top. To get coconut onto the side of the cake, he flicks it at the cake (paper helps confine the mess). The coconut should stick to the sticky icing.

Alton’s cake is finally finished, and it only took him half a day to make it. But his patience will be rewarded. He takes the cake to the diner and folks there even pay extra for it! They want three extra per week from him. That, an elderly patron explains, is why folks only made it on special occasions. But that’s okay – he’ll work nights. It’s worth it to revive a legend! She’s happy, perhaps civilization has a glimmer of hope.

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