I’m not a natural-born baker, or even one with much of a sweet tooth, but I do have an affinity for time-consuming projects—and a dash of the slightly obsessive, perfectionist streak that seems like a key ingredient in the world of pastry. As an adult, most of my baking explorations have been motivated by wanting something that others couldn’t be counted on to provide for a potluck or holiday gathering—high-octane flourless chocolate cake, pies infused with chile, rosemary shortbread—and the few standbys I first learned, I learned near sea level. As you know if you’ve ever tried to bake a cake in Albuquerque or Taos, things don’t work the same way once you hit higher ground. Even storied bakers have been crushed by trying to turn out their best cupcakes in New Mexico, and it took me a while, and a few flops, to dust off my apron and give it another go. Here are my notes on a few resources for other aspiring bakers.
Joy of Cooking is the kind of analog resource that can make you wonder why people even bother with the internet. Sure, you could spend twenty minutes parsing Reddit threads about whether or not to put a cake in the fridge, plus another hour lost to some tangent or other—or, you could just turn to Joy’s index and find clear, trustworthy advice on storing, freezing, and thawing cakes, frosted or not.
What I love about Joy is its toolbox quality; the sections devoted to baking are split into logical categories, with frostings and fillings separate from cakes. Suggestions for pairings are offered, and there are specific recipes for, say, Lady Baltimore cake, but I’ve leaned more into the building-block recipes, recipes for individual components, like gold cake and orange curd. It was from Joy’s collection of basic layer cakes that I learned how much one yellow cake can vary from the next, and how much I love layers made with buttermilk. It was from Joy that I pulled my first handful of tips on high-altitude baking. (Using a none-too-special gas oven in Albuquerque, the first adjustments I usually try are to cut a little baking powder, up the liquid by a tablespoon or two, and increase the temperature for the first ten or fifteen minutes of baking.)
One caveat: Joy’s recipes are well tested, but if you’re looking to be inspired by pictures, this is not the place. What it is the place for: straightforward instructions on the creaming method, reliable formulas for fillings, and the old-fashioned style of recipes by and for home cooks.
Produced by America’s Test Kitchen, The Perfect Cake could as aptly be titled “Cake for Dummies.” It was gifted to me, in fact, after a series of none-too-perfect layers: too dry, too wet, so hot when filled and frosted that what reached the get-together with me was more landslide than cake. As such, it’s a solid beginner’s book, with a super accessible introductory section that breaks down the basics with clear language and handy visuals: tools, ingredients, mixing techniques, decorating, and possibly the friendliest ever guide to “making a masterpiece.”
While there is an appendix of component recipes for those intent to design their own cakes, the bulk of the recipes in the book are step-by-step guides for the production of a specific cake, be that a Smith Island or a seemingly foolproof chocolate-hazelnut dacquoise. Chapters are divided by broad types: One is all about sheet cakes, one is focused on tall layer cakes, and another celebrates “Great American Cakes.” As those chapters imply (and yes, there’s one on cupcakes and cake pops too), this is a cakes-for-all-occasions cookbook, and a good pick for someone who might want to make a pretty cake or might just want to bake a cake that’s easy to transport. And while not all the methods and components are separated out, some of them—take the stunning beet sprinkles for chocolate-beet cupcakes—are genius.
Cookbook author Susan Purdy made a mission of mastering high-altitude baking, and the result is Pie in the Sky—the baking bible for many a New Mexican. Especially in the highest realms, all baking, even cookies, tends to require some adjustments; Purdy also covers muffins, yeast and quick breads, and even a couple of soufflés that I may try if I need to take a break from obsessing over cake. You won’t find an illustrated guide to decorating, but you will find chatty, easy tips on equipment, ingredients, and general tips for baking success.
Many of the cakes in this book lean simple: pound cake and Jewish honey cake and apple cake. Purdy favors buttermilk at high altitudes (turns out my attraction to buttermilk cakes might have as much to do with their performance as their delicate texture and flavor), and her cake recipes include yellow and chocolate buttermilk layers likely to become standbys. There are enticing chiffon and sponge cakes, and a solid few recipes that call for a Bundt pan. Whether you live at five thousand or seven thousand feet, when you want to pull out a recipe that you can follow to a T, no tinkering required, this is your book; each recipe is actually a grid, with measurements, temperature, and bake time not just “adjusted for altitude” but adjusted for several different altitudes. And while the iced pumpkin Bundt cake would be a welcome addition at a casual brunch, it could easily be dressed up for a more formal holiday meal.
Serious baking is for fusspots, and The Cake Bible author Rose Levy Beranbaum falls, I think it’s safe to say, near the extreme end of that spectrum. This book was recommended to me several years ago, but, perhaps intimidated by the comprehensiveness the title implies, I waited a while to buy it. And, indeed, its heft lives up to its name. If you’re ready to start piping your own flowers or want recipes worthy of a wedding or high-level gala, this is most certainly a book that belongs on your shelf. In fact, there’s an entire section devoted to “Special Effects and Decorative Techniques,” which includes instructions for fabricating chocolate snowflakes and marzipan mushrooms along with piping leaves and roses.
Beranbaum’s preference is for fine cakes, meaning fine flour, fine sugar, a fine crumb, and fine presentation. If you don’t want to use the bleached flour she recommends, you may have to make adjustments; these recipes are not “altituded,” so that’s something New Mexico bakers will have to handle on their own. (It took me two tries to get her chocolate Domingo right, or at least right enough to serve at Thanksgiving.) I’m not totally sold on her commitment to the reverse creaming method, but I am looking forward to trying her pistachio and rose cake (not to mention the chocolate Pavarotti and the Serbian reform torta). If you appreciate precision and aren’t overwhelmed by having to choose between a dozen ganache recipes, or even if you’re simply seeking inspiration from a devoted baker who utterly respects the classics but also is unafraid to play with unexpected flavor combinations, The Cake Bible is it.
Briana Olson
Briana Olson is a writer and the editor of edible New Mexico and The Bite. She lives in Albuquerque.
