Out & About #1102 | Rhubarb Two Ways + Milky Fluffy Chiffon Cake

Leaping into kitchen endeavours the immediate following day was an act that no one ought be surprised by.

​1) Rhubarb Tart

While I didn't measure the total quantity obtained from the farm produce stall, I approximate about ten stalks of the baking vegetable, leaves removed. The stalks varied between shades of green, red, and even a mix of the two. Frankly, it was my time ever working with rhubarb, and I couldn't be certain whether the quality of my selection was good or not.

SK's method of cutting the stalks lengthwise then diagonally (termed "bias cut") was horrifically fussy. While I had no issues executing the process, the amount of effort was far from practical and led to a preparation period longer than warranted. The stalks being of unidentical width and my lack of a tendency to cut things uniformly further hindered the process. Arranging the pieces on top of the frangipane was another mess altogether, with the pieces smearing in the almond filling and lifting the underlying layer off of the tart base when attempts to shift the pieces were made.

​In any case, I confirmed that rhubarb acts similar to celery, in that the produce:

• Does not oxidize or exude water after cutting
• Has a stringy, fibrous outer layer
• Disintegrates quickly once exposed to heat (unlike strawberries, which require prolonged exposure to heat for gradual disintegration)
• Features a sour and somewhat bitter taste with earthy undertones in its raw form

Besides the ability of rhubarb to take on copious amounts of sweetener in baked goods, I wasn't entirely sure of potential applications beyond pie/tart filling and jam/compote.

A) Crust

The tart base was previously constructed using SK's recipe for a 9 in tart crust:

• 190 g all-purpose flour
• 60 g icing sugar
• salt
• 130 g unsalted butter
• 1 egg yolk

One of two discs were transferred to the fridge to defrost overnight, then later transitioned to room temperature for another few hours before use. This was confirmed to be a very finnicky process overall, as the dough became too soft too rapidly, causing it too roll out too thin and become fragile. The edges automatically tore once placed on top of the tart pan, prompting me to reroll and reposition with extreme caution.

​In the end, I managed to fit a second sheet over the pan. Any dough falloff would be used to patch and raise the edges to account for shrinkage.

The crust was baked at 325 F for 15 minutes (par-baking) and set to cool briefly before filling. Of course, if time-permitting, it is best to allow the tart crust to fully cool before filling with a butter-based paste. In my case, chilling the dough before baking had already been fussy enough, and I merely wished to wrap up the process.

B) Frangipane

The frangipane filling originated from the same SK recipe, but with amounts scaled up to account for underestimating the weight of my remaining butter block. I had eagerly plopped 116 g into my not-so-pristine bowl, thus adjusted all ingredients by a ratio of 1.36.

•  ̶8̶5̶ → 116 g unsalted butter
•  ̶7̶5̶ → 102 g ground almonds
•  ̶1̶0̶ → 14 g AP flour
•  ̶9̶0̶ →  122 g granulated sugar
• 1 egg (~ 50 g) → 68 g egg (1 egg (47 g) + 1 yolk (20 g) = 67 g)
• 5 g vanilla extract
• 2 g almond extract
• 10 g whiskey

​Given that I had raised the height of my tart crust by at least 1.5 cm, filling its entirety with frangipane became possible. It did not puff as much as expected, though rose between the diagonal sections of rhubarb nicely. When sampling though, I must admit that the ratio of almond to fruit was a bit exaggerated.

The outcome was tasty, albeit a tad heavy for my liking. The addition of rhubarb was admittedly splendid here, as it contributed tartness to contrast against the sweet tart shell and rich frangipane. I had given up on "converting" the ombré chevron design depicted to a radial format, but results were as SK predicted: "...you could just scatter pieces all over and it will all taste the same in the end."
All factors considered, I suppose the lengthwise incision was warranted. Pieces that were too thick would likely make for a more troublesome eating experience. After baking, the pieces yielded, adopting a noticeable stringy texture. Larger cuts of rhubarb may see undesirable rigidity and an interrupted conversation.

Having been baked for an extended period of time, the tart edges snapped under impact. Obtaining a clean, flawless slice was impossible. Nevertheless, the creation was delicious - delicious enough to warrant the effort put forth, but probably not phenomenal enough to justify a second attempt.

2) Rhubarb Compote

​This concoction was, without a doubt, inspired by the previous afternoon's spectacular meal at HOB NOB. The meticulously established harmony of all the dishes sampled was truly thought-provoking - more than a mere meal, it served to instill new ideas from which I could develop my own creations.

With excess rhubarb on hand, I reckoned that the compote could be compiled for serving with a basic chiffon cake, either adjacent to the cake as a condiment or incorporated into the cream for cohesion.

Ingredients:

• 245 g (about 2 cups by volume) rhubarb stalks, chopped
• 4 + 10 g lemon juice
• 187 g granulated sugar
• 15 g sake
• 1 g gelatin
• 25 g corn syrup

Directions

1. In a medium saucepot, combine rhubarb, sugar, and 4 g lemon juice. Cook over high heat until the fruit disintegrates, stirring periodically to prevent sugar from burning on the bottom of the pot.
2. When the fruit is soft enough to be smushed against the side of the pot, reduce the heat to medium-high and continue cooking. Once most of the water has evaporated, add in the remaining 10 g of lemon juice. Continue cooking until there is no liquid left.
3. Over high heat, add in sake to deglaze and quickly stir to incorporate. On the side, combine 1 g (1/2 tsp) of gelatin with a small amount of water.
4. Once all liquid has evaporated, add in gelatin and corn syrup. Reduce to medium heat.
5. Continue cooking until a clean path can be drawn at the bottom of the saucepot. Once again, there should be no obvious signs of liquid.

Prepared on the stovetop, the formula would loosely be derived from my stovetop strawberry jam (1095) recipe. 245 g of chopped rhubarb equated to about 2 cups by volume. While I would have normally halved the 4-cup jam recipe, I utilized an identical amount of sugar and a reduction of lemon juice in consideration of rhubarb's innate properties.

My first application of the compote was, surprisingly, not a cake condiment at all, but rather a cocktail.

Three leaves were plucked from the farm fresh potted mint. The specimens were incredibly fresh, unlike the packaged grocery store renditions I have grown accustomed to. Punctured mint leaves, one cocktail ice sphere, 1.5 oz of gold rum, rhubarb compote, and club soda would constitute my refreshing evening beverage.

3) Milky Fluffy Chiffon Cake

Originating from the ever-talented Sunday Baking, I enacted her latest Milky Chiffon Cake recipe with minimal modifications. The sole deviations was the substitution of honey in place of corn syrup in the cake and the introduction of vanilla bean paste to the whipped cream filling. Otherwise, all other components were kept unchanged.

Ingredients:

A) Chiffon

• 3 egg yolks
• 25 g  ̶c̶o̶r̶n̶ ̶s̶y̶r̶u̶p̶ honey
• 4 egg whites
• 65 g granulated sugar
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 45 g milk
• 38 g canola oil
• 70 g cake flour
• 8 g cornstarch

B) Cream

• 200 g heavy cream
• 25 g sweetened condensed milk
• 1 tsp vanilla bean paste

​It should be noted that the steps undertaken aligned with a typical sponge (whip eggs → flour → liquid) as opposed to her depicted procedure of: combine yolk + liquid + flour → whip whites → fold. My variation resulted in a looser batter, though I was grateful to observe a structurally sound chiffon nonetheless!

​I also noticed the stabilizing powers of sweetened condensed milk in the whipped cream. Generally speaking, it made for a smoother cream that facilitated frosting. In order to combat the tackiness (and fridge essence) of the ingredient though, I added a hint of vanilla bean paste.

​The cake indeed looked like a giant toilet paper roll.

Source: Sunday Baking | https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-q6QqISKuss

​After chilling overnight, the cake was devoured the next morning.

On the first day of sampling, the chiffon was impeccably soft - essentially cloud-like! Sweetened condensed milk lent stability to the cream, while vanilla bean a delicate, sweet aroma. The Milky Fluff Chiffon was positively fabulous.

The second day saw a slightly denser cake, which was interesting to observe in the least. That said, it may have been owed to the chosen storage technique of covering, instead of sealing within a container.

​Either way, one can never go wrong with Sunday and this recipe is a testament to that! The Chiffon Cake required no more than 2h to execute, and further embraced a procedure that was seamless and smooth. My frosting skills could definitely use work, but I remain quite pleased with the turnout.