Gluten-free Chocolate Carob Fig Layer Cake

My first foray into made-from-scratch layer cakes! It dawned on me that the only layer cakes I had ever made were from a box, years ago, with mom's help. So it was time to branch out and throw on another layer onto my homemade cakes and put a little something in the middle.

This cake starts with figs. My initial idea was to make the cake sugar free, using only the figs as sweetener, but I later caved and added some sugar. But it is possible!

Put the dried figs (10 or so) in a bowl and pour steamed milk over the top. This helps soften them up for the food processor.



While those are getting ready, you can prepare the flour mix (all the measurements are estimates):
3/4 cup Almond flour (or use the food processor to grind whole almonds
1 cup Rice flour
1/2 cup Carob flour
Baking soda
Salt

On the stove, start melting:
1/2 bar dark chocolate
1/2 stick butter
splash of milk

And in a small bowl, whisk 3 eggs and a bit of sugar.



Now, those figs should be ready. Throw them in the food processor, and blend until smooth. Add the fig mixture to the chocolate butter, and then the eggs. Stir quickly so nothing cooks (the chocolate will still be hot).

Finally, add bit by bit the flour mixture to the liquid. Taste for sugar and consistency.



Now comes the exciting part: Not one, but TWO pans. Lined with aluminum foil or greased, separate the batter equally in them, and into the oven at 350. Bake for around 20 minutes, or until done (but be careful! Carob is tricky and the cakes turn a very dark brown so they look burnt, even if they aren't. Always check the middle with a knife or toothpick before taking them out).

For the middle filling, I ground up more almonds with a sticky brown sugar and a bit of butter. And the top is graced with a melted chocolate layer. Put on those layers!:

Gluten-free Nutella-Chocolate Chip Cake

Having an affinity for mixing together odd ingredients, it was strange to suddenly feel the need to make something "kid-friendly." Kid-friendly? Isn't it a bit early in life for that?



My stint as an au-pair for a Spanish family living outside of Madrid introduced me to this new, unexpected challenge: cooking for and with kids.

So before I decided to challenge their palates with a ginger-coconut-chocolate-spice cake, or something like that, I decided to go back to the basic: chocolate. That's common ground, right?

Then I remembered the Nutella I had seen in the cupboard from my extensive kitchen-stock-stalk, and we were set.

Dry ingredients:
Cup of rice flour
Cup and 1/2 of gluten-free-flour mix (this particular one composed of what I think translates to cornstarch, baking soda, sugar)
A bit more baking soda
Salt



Wet ingredients:
1 egg
3 spoonfuls of margarine
Sugar
5 spoonfuls of cream cheese
Nutella
Chocolate chips



Elsa was in charge of mixing the wet ingredients, Rodrigo in charge of the dry ones, and I made guesses and approximations until I was content with the contents.

Then we mixed them both together, adding the flour mixture to the other. Finally they both mixed in a handful of chocolate chips.



We poured the mixture into the baking pan, and as I handed them the bowl filled with the batter's remains I discovered something: Elsa likes batter; Rodrigo doesn't.

As a final touch, I decided that our cake deserved more nutella, and spooned some over the top, swirling it in.



Then it was into the oven. As I was too lazy to figure out the proper conversion of Celsius to Fahrenheit, I guessed. I put it at 170 C, and cooked it for 30-40 minutes.

And it actually rose. In my ventures in gluten-free baking, my constant concern and failure is to get cakes to rise. My new conclusion? Baking soda works way better than baking powder when it comes to heavier flours (which happens to be the nature of many gluten-free flour options).



And we waited. It emerged: a success. Evidence? We made it this morning and at 10:00 PM there's only one slice left.

Gluten-free Mango Torte with Chocolate-Coconut Ganache

So I debated long and hard whether or not I could use the term "ganache" to describe the thick chocolaty mixture that topped my unintentional torte. During this process, I discovered a lot of interesting things on Wikipedia.

1. Ganache comes from the French word for "jowl." Hilarious.
2. Ganache is typically made by heating heavy cream and then adding chocolate.
3. Proportions of cream to chocolate determine blah blah blah.

Ultimately, I decided to use it because

1. It sounds a lot prettier than "icing"
2. Even though I didn't use cream, I used milk.
3. Next time I'm definitely going to use cream. Thicker ganache? Yes, please.

And since we're already on the fascinating topic of ganache, I'll start there.



For my particular version I used:

Milk
Powdered sugar
Unsweetened cocoa powder
Shredded coconut
Little bit of salt

And I whisked, poured, tasted, repoured. The key here is balance; letting the powdered sugar and cocoa play even parts, and giving it just a splash of milk as you mix. I ended with a smooth, shiny chocolate-coconut delight that I wanted to eat out of the bowl. But I didn't; I saved it for the torte.

The torte! What a surprise it was.



A simple concoction:

Butter
Yogurt
1 Egg
Sugar
2 Mangoes
Gluten-free flour blend
Vanilla
Baking powder
Salt


I cut up 2 mangoes (that were on sale at Earth Fare for $.50 and it was almost as good as the time at Elsewhere some artists brought fresh mangoes they had stolen from their neighbor's tree in Florida), beat the butter, yogurt, egg, sugar and then added the cut mango. Threw in some vanilla, then the flour with baking powder and salt.

And the whole time, I thought I was making a cake.

I put it in the oven at 350 - my go-to temperature (though I eventually raised it to 375).

It didn't rise. After about an hour, I sighed, gave up on my cakey dreams, and took it out of the oven.

Well, it has mangoes in it so it has to be good.

I resigned myself to icing it inside the pan, knowing that any attempt to take it out would result in disaster. It felt incomplete, but some blueberries in the fridge did the trick.

After dinner, I brought out the "cake." We cut into it. M dad couldn't make up his mind about it, my mom and grandma praised it, and I was frustrated that it wasn't a cake.

Then it dawned on me; what is dense and sweet and kind of like a cake?

"It's a torte!" I declared.

Suddenly my dad changed his mind, and handed his plate in for seconds.