Out & About #853 | Deluxe Pizza, Black Sesame Mousse Cake + Errands

10/31/2022

One of my ongoing concerns is the persistent presence of preservative-free items in our fridge.

On one fateful evening, I attempted to combine Chudleigh's too-sweet Apple Cider with the last bottle of flavoured soju in my inventory. Several encounters later, I learned that soju wasn't my cup of tea. But since I still had a few bottles on hand, it was only reasonable to deplete them in the least painful way possible.

That night, I succeeded in ridding the house of Peach Soju, but suffered horrendous dizziness several hours later. The sensation had not been partnered with tipsiness nor a headache, but arrived in a wave of suffering. Although having replenished hydration levels intensely, I struggled to suppress the recoil.

"It feels like something wants to come up." I reported to a soju-acquainted friend.
"Yeah that sounds like soju." He replied knowingly.
Well, soju was banned from that point. I'll happily be returning to my beer roots.

The sleepy polar bear delivered Tiny Toms to me the next morning, along with a single unit of Lindt's Peppermint Crunch Truffle. It was a thoughtful gesture, for we had skipped the stop during our last trip to Markham. That said, Tiny Toms is best eaten fresh, and when the appetite is willing.

My body expressed reluctance to venture past warm broths, but I managed to digest the seasonal offering of Pumpkin Spice before rolling up the rim. It was surprisingly delicious. The other flavours of Icing Sugar, Cinnamon Sugar, and Chocolate had been reserved for the next day, though were ultimately disposed as staleness prevailed.

Delivery pizza is a never-before-seen occurrence in my household. Requested as part of Halloweekend celebratory affairs, two Medium Gourmet Pizzas were ordered from Pizzaville. The package also included Cheesy Breadsticks and a foil-encased portion of Rigatoni.

The Deluxe was phenomenal: loaded with fresh tomatoes, green peppers, and an ample amount of mozzarella for ultimate stringiness. We excitedly reached towards the slices while piping hot.
Unveiling the Provolone Hawaiian, we were admittedly disappointed at the comparatively scanty toppings versus the Deluxe. Pineapples were barely observed on its surface. The cheese, appearing (and tasting) more cheddar-like than mozzarella, was present throughout; the same could be said in regards to the ham and bacon, which were savoury and crisp to touch. It was merely a shame that pineapple chunks had been so deficient, for the sweet, acidic notes would have been stellar at offsetting the otherwise severely savoury profile.

Cheesy breadsticks and pizza is a popular combination. I would presume the concept to originate from a business decision to repurpose leftover dough and cheese, though must admit that sometimes all that a solo diner craves is cheese-covered carbs. The four-piece Cheddar-Mozzarella Stix emerged as an asymmetrical slab bearing three cuts. These cuts were anything but even - kind of like if they were done by yours truly - with the corner piece noticeably smaller than the rest. Positively plush with a satisfying cheese pull, the side was far more delectable than expected. That said, its profile would have easily been elevated with the addition of garlic - be it minced garlic, garlic oil, or garlic seasoning.

The Rigatoni was, hands down, the worst item of the spread. While promising in visuals, it was repulsive in taste. The noodles were stiff and starchy, the sauce emitting a synthetic sourness (yes, sour, not tart), and the entirety of the sampled spoonful clumped together.

The delivery meal was consumed at the midway point of cake creation. A Black Sesame Mousse Cake would be in progress for roughly three quarters of the day.

Liberated from the painstaking likes of buttercream roll cakes, I sought out inspiration from the ever-trustworthy Sunday Baking.

My initial thought had been to double the quantity featured in her Black Sesame Raspberry Mousse for construction of a whole cake. However, upon reading the recipe again, the amounts seemed sufficient. I proceeded with the recipe without alteration of the composition.

In the absence of frozen raspberries, I opted for a frozen medley of blueberries, cherries, and raspberries instead. The bag's contents had been oddly soft even after residing the freezer for over 8 hours. Formed into a jam using my breadmaker recipe, the violently violet emulsion was left to set in the fridge overnight. Only 1.5 tbsp of gelatin was used, as the mixture would be further thickened later on.

The cake would comprise of four layers, followed by decorative finishes that I hadn't decided until partway through the baking process.
Black Sesame Joconde was a sturdy layer radiating crunch and optimal nuttiness. With its high proportion of ground almonds and aromatic boost of toasted black sesame seeds, the cake rose minimally but offered complexity and textural interest. This base layer was cut to fit a 7.5-inch springform pan.

Separately, in an adjustable 6-inch aluminum ring, I prepared a mixed berry gelée layer using the specified amounts for purée (140 g) and gelatin (2-3 g). Lemon juice and sugar were omitted, for the jam contained those ingredients already. While the gelée solidified, I commenced on the black sesame mousse - arguably the most critical cake layer.

Instead of the countless two-ingredient mousse recipes I've chanced across (and absolutely loathed), Sunday's rendition combined a black sesame custard with the airiness of whipped cream. Melted white chocolate would contribute sweetness and stability, nixing the need for gelatin. The resulting product was rich in black sesame and creamy, without being excessively so.

To compensate for height, as the "Zen stone" in Sunday's recipe was much more compact than the standard cake, I constructed a vanilla sponge for good measure. This cake was softer than the joconde and extremely delicate. Slicing and handling the layer demanded a tremendous amount of care, and even I could not escape its premature tearing in spite of working conservatively.

Into the springform pan I poured about one half of the mousse layer over the joconde. Next, I fitted the gelée round, poured more mousse, and inserted the 6-inch vanilla sponge with anxiety. My remaining mousse would be just adequate in covering the sponge layer.

I transferred the cake to set in the refrigerator while entertaining a black sesame ganache. This final element was sourced from the fourth search result on YouTube.
Supposedly, the ganache could be poured on top of the cake and allowed to set. After one hour of chilling, I attempted to remove the cake from the springform. Having forgotten that ganache ought be used after complete solidification, I returned the cake and its jiggly mousse goodness back to the fridge and covered the ganache with cling film. The formula would instead be reheated at a later point in time and piped atop in amateur-ish swirls. An immediate reflection of my piping skills, the dark grey fixtures were far from attractive. Edible silver glitter managed to save the day.

All factors considered, the Black Sesame Mousse Cake was a success. For once, the layers were relatively uniform! Moreoever, each chromatic delineation was indeed consistent in offering a distinct flavour profile and texture. Indulgent yet light, members of the household were spotted going back for second helpings of the dark, nutty delicacy. True to Sunday's words, the gelée served as the ideal medium to cut the creaminess of the mousse.

The morning after Rogues, I set out to replenish my banana bread stash. Of course, just as I found satisfaction in my timely creation, I also recalled my accidental omission of coarse sugar for a crunchy top.