Long Overdue

Holy moly. We’re already at the FIFTEENTH day of a brand new year?! Where was I over the last 28 days?

Hi. A happy 2012 to you.

I’ve been slogging away to meet deadlines at work. Plus, I was down with migraine and a cold about a week ago. But this blog has been a part of my life for almost THREE(!!) years. All that makes it even harder to let go of writing and blogging.

Now I’m sneaking in a little time to write about something long overdue. Finally. Phew.

During my absence, I hope the holidays had treated you well: weeks of shopping and planning, hours of cooking and baking, fabulous company of family and friends, back-to-back feasting on the yummiest food.

As for me, the holidays had been lovely.

On Christmas Eve, my family had a three-course dinner at a three-star hotel nearby; and even though the food was horrible, I particularly enjoyed the family time spent together. Then, on Christmas Day, before heading over to my friends Gary and Veronica’s home for dinner, I was busy in the kitchen, assembling the humongous peanut-butter torte I’d planned to bring over to the dinner.

Tagging along to the dinner was Kenelm, my special him. He didn’t pop out of nowhere, I swear. It may puzzle you now, thanks to my infrequency in blogging, but I hope my future posts will gradually clear the confusion up in you.

Photo courtesy of Veronica.

What I miss about the Christmas dinner (and I’m sure Kenelm has the same thought, too) is the incredible, generous first-class food spread that Gary had planned and prepared for days, with help from Veronica. Kenelm and I had helpings of the good food; he couldn’t stop praising Gary’s impressive culinary skills.

Photos courtesy of Veronica.

On top of that, I also miss the company of family friends, some of whom I’d not even met beforehand. Kenelm, on the other hand, except for learning about Veronica and Gary through our everyday conversations, had never met them prior to that evening. All of us just clicked, somehow, amazingly, and broke into conversations and laughter. At one point, while Veronica and her sisters-in-law were reminiscing about their Bangkok trip from a few years back, they goofed about each other, and I laughed and panted and smacked on the table. I had lost possession of myself. Excuse me.

Photo courtesy of Veronica.

On our way home, Kenelm and I had a little conversation.

Kenelm: I enjoyed being in their company. I like that they are a bunch of really friendly, family-oriented folks. And the food was excellent.

Me: Same here. That’s why I love my friends and treasure the friendships. What connects us even more is our interest of cooking and baking and enjoying good, homemade food.

Gary and Veronica, thank you for everything. You helped make Kenelm’s and my last Christmas memorable.

***

Dear Reader, if you’re still following my blog, I’d like to thank you for that and for being understanding and patient during my absence. Irregularity in blogging is definitely a turn-off, and if overused, working for long hours becomes a lousy put-off.

But with Chinese New Year coming (gasped — which is about a week from now!!), apart from my day job as a writer for a communications consultancy, I’m already getting busier with festive baking and cooking. Despite the rave review, now I’m not quite ready with sharing the peanut-butter torte recipe with you due to some discouraging experience with it. Perhaps when the time is right, I’ll put it up here.

Over the next few days, though, before Chinese New Year, I’ll try to post the recipe up for a festive cookie I’ve been churning out in the kitchen. I don’t want to leave you with a blank promise, but I’ll try.

In the meantime, may you have a fabulous week ahead!

Some Serious Treat

My dear Reader, I’ve been a terrible blogger this year. By the time you read this post, Thanksgiving frenzy has already died down and hence marks the midst of Christmas rush. Does that say a lot to you about me?

In this part of the world, where Thanksgiving is often unheard of (and so it’s not a public holiday, apparently), I was out on the streets, filling in as an adjunct “reporter” (or interviewer, or whatever-you’d-like-to-call-it) for a colleague, videotaping interviews with my multitalented boss for a client. Plus, I was slogging away the three days before for some massive events. Who would have thought I had the opportunity to be in the presence of Rohani Jelani, Malaysia’s renowned recipe developer and food stylist, and to meet up — for the first time — with Pick Shan, another fellow Malaysian blogger, at a culinary event at Bayan Indah. “Look what your job had led you to!” exclaimed my boss. Yeap. Albeit tiring, all these experiences had been immensely rewarding, and I’m thankful for that.

Actually, I’ve been in a holiday-season mood. I’d planned to write a Thanksgiving post and put an autumn recipe up on this blog, but I failed on both counts. During the Thanksgiving week, when I saw the emails from my American sisters — Anna and Abbi who are in Minnesota — and my American best friends — Becky and Ryan who are in Bangkok — about how they celebrated theirs, I felt elated and nostalgic for America at the same time. It’s that sense of belonging, that’s all that matters.

The Whitney crab apples in my American family's orchard (circa August 2009).

At the festive table, if the apple trees in my American family’s orchard bear a fruitful ending to the season, apple pies would usually wind up as one of the few desserts served. Apple pies are an American classic, and a treat in their household.

Now that I’m no longer in America, apple pies have become a treat for me as well. I hardly make them, even though apples are everywhere. I guess I haven’t found an apple pie recipe that I like and can be loyal to.

But fret not! I have something slightly unconventional to make up for that: apple-pie cheesecake.

I found this interesting recipe in [The] Cheese Cake Book, my go-to source for cheesecake inspirations whenever cheesy yen surges. But I feel it’s more of a hybrid of apple pie, apple tart, and cheesecake. It’s not as tall as the New York cheesecake, but almost as short as the French apple tart. The apple-pie-ish element comes from the apple slices that are lying snugly in the luscious cinnamon-perfumed, slightly but refreshingly tart cheesy custard filling (or topping?). Working together in a symbiosis, the latter and the delicately cinnamony, wheaty-nutty crust scream to my tongue and then the brain, Yo! Cheesecake here.

This dessert is a play of the mind, satisfying your senses all the way through.

I guess this compromise ain’t bad, after all. This apple-pie cheesecake makes for some serious treat, too. I’m good without apple pies for now, but I’m sure I’ll be back with one. Someday. (Oh, if you have a good apple pie recipe, do share it with me, please.)

Apple-Pie Cheesecake

Adapted from [The] Cheese Cake Book [sic] 《我愛芝士蛋糕》, by Junko Fukuda (福田淳子), Kumiko Yanase (柳瀨久美子), and Yasuyo Shida (信太康代)

For baking apples, my favorites are Granny Smiths, which I love for their distinctive blend of fruity sweetness and puckering tartness, and, if in season and available, Golden Delicious, which I love for their floral, juicy sweetness and slight tartness.

(A)

200 grams honey graham crackers or digestive biscuits, pulverized

2/3 teaspoon ground cinnamon

60 grams unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled

(B)

150 grams cream cheese, softened

30 grams unsalted butter, softened

70 grams superfine or granulated sugar

40 grams plain yogurt

1 large egg, lightly beaten and at room temperature

(C)

2½ teaspoons cornstarch

½ teaspoon ground cinnamon

2½ — 4 teaspoons fresh-squeezed lemon juice, or to taste

1½ — 2 medium-size apples, or to adjust as necessary

(D)

About 60 grams apricot jam

1 tablespoon water

Lightly grease the bottom and sides of a 16-centimeter tart pan that has a removable base, then line its bottom with parchment. Set aside. Preheat the oven to 170°C.

In a medium-size mixing bowl, toss together (A), then stir in the melted butter to combine. Press the mixture firmly into the bottom and against the sides of the prepared tart pan, and chill in the refrigerator until just before baking.

In another medium-size mixing bowl, thoroughly cream together (B). Mix in the yogurt, and then followed by the egg — stir that in in two to three batches. Sift in (C) and mix well, then pour in the lemon juice and combine.

Remove the prepared tart pan from the refrigerator and set in a larger baking pan. Pour the cream-cheese mixture into the crust, and partially bake for about 20 minutes or slightly less than that. Meanwhile, stem, core, and cut the apples into two- to three-millimeter-thick slices. Try not to cut the fruit up too early to prevent its browning.

After baking for 20 minutes, remove the partially baked cheesecake from the oven. Arrange the apple slices on top of the cream-cheese custard — however you want to, so long as the cheesecake looks presentable in the end. Bake for another 20 minutes or so, until the top looks lightly golden. Remove from the oven, and set the cheesecake — still in its mold — on a cooling rack to let cool completely. Chill the cooled cheesecake for at least three hours before serving.

Just before serving, melt together (D) in a small saucepan over gentle heat for a glaze. Brush it over the cheesecake. Slice and serve.

Old-School Deliciousness

Recently, I’d found myself lost in the thought of living the life I once enjoyed in America. College life, to be exact. I think this is due to the work pressure I was recently subjected to and then had finally got out of (that was short-lived, just so you know — yesterday was my second day at my new job as a writer for healthcare communication).

In retrospect, while many of my peers seemed to be psyched about graduating high school, entering college, and the freedom to choose their preferred paths, I was, however, at a loss — I didn’t know what to major in and which college to attend.

I miss that small-town college in the freezing Minnesota ...

I want to live in America. I want a taste of America. That’s all I knew, and it’d been so since I was 13 or 14. Was I a rebellious teenager? Yes — as a matter of fact, an introverted rebel who was (and still am) hungry for all things American.

Okay, I know it’s sad to say, but the fact is, my dad was the one who helped set my college path. Citing the reason of “providing a quieter, more decent study environment away from all the urban chaos,” for the benefit of his only daughter, my dad put me in a private college 75 kilometers south of Kuala Lumpur. And the 17-year-old me then enrolled myself in the America-bound program offered there.

So for the first one and a half years of my college life, before being transplanted to America for another three years or so, I was stuck in that little town. As I can recall, it was dead quiet and underdeveloped, subsisted largely on the college student population there.

I was staying in the dorm. I was a culinary idiot. I wasn’t given the opportunities to learn and the exposure needed to foster the culinary interest in me. Every day was nothing but studying and sleeping. Those were the carefree days. Life was good.

I ate out and had takeouts all the time, too: for all three meals, every day. The food there was, unfortunately, mediocre and came with little variety: Asam laksa. “Pattaya-style” fried rice (nasi goreng Pattaya). Stir-fried ramen (a.k.a. Maggi goreng). Flat rice noodles stir-fried with beef strips (乾炒牛河). I know I could have done the small town a little justice by naming more, but really, they were pretty much the usual stuff. I got bored.

However, and surprisingly, there was one thing that I found myself eating almost every day: potato buns, the hot-cross bun lookalikes adored by many Malaysians. As a student who couldn’t bake and cook, I worshipped these store-bought buns, among other additive-laden mass-market baked goods.

Years ago, long before they became a common sight across the nation, Malaysians would actually wait in line just to take home bags of piping-hot potato buns from their nearest Carrefour supermarket. The sweet, slightly eggy aroma of the bread would come wafting down the line. Because of that, I’ve been associating potato buns with Carrefour. Even little Pei-Lin called them “Carrefour potato bread” (I know, these are supposed to be labeled as “buns”).

Pillow-soft and tender. On the sweet side, with noticeable hints of vanilla and custard. My family loved them, and we usually grabbed home two bags whenever we went shopping for groceries at Carrefour.

Oh, man. I’m feeling nostalgic now. These buns are so old-school, and so delicious, too.

Back in those pre-America college days of mine, when I was alone in the dorm, and got so bored, I’d actually pick up the bag of potato buns I had bought from the nearest convenience store to study its nutrition facts label: Bleached and “enriched” flour. Artificial flavorings and colorings. “Permitted” additives with alphanumeric names that remind me of the periodic table. I wonder why I was even infatuated with stuff that now have me roll my eyes.

Picking up baking and cooking means that I can try to replicate my favorite foods at home, sans the undesirable stuff. (Not every food, though, like Cheerios, Marie biscuits, Tim Tam — I can’t for those.) When I was in the States, I was pining for the potato buns that they became one of those comfort foods I tried to recreate then. Alas, the late-night baking that persisted until 3 a.m. ended up in disappointment: The buns got a tad dry and tough. After some troubleshooting, I reckoned (1) I could have slightly overbaked them, or (2) it could have been the whole-wheat flour that I’d used to make them wholesome. But I’m sure the latter wasn’t really the culprit.

My first potato buns, back in November 2008.

Albeit discouraging, that incident never stopped me from making potato buns again. I tried to recreate my favorite bread in my Malaysian kitchen, but with a different recipe, in hope of a satisfactory result. Anyone who knows my eating habit will tell you that Pei-Lin takes only homemade bread — whole-wheat and whole-grain ones preferably. So as usual, I used a mix of plain and whole-wheat bread flour, both being organic and unbleached. (If you’re residing in Kuala Lumpur, and are into eating whole foods, you may consider trying Radiant Whole Food, my preferred brand for organic, unbleached flours. Bob’s Red Mill flours are rather expensive here.)

After some tweaking here and there, I must admit that this recipe, originally written by Alex Goh (吳景發), one of Malaysia’s prominent cookbook authors, produces potato buns that are so tender and moist, that tease your senses with a whisper of the alluring vanilla sweetness of the custard. They’re so good that I pulled apart three pieces in a row and stuffed myself silly.

As much as I’d like to, I am, however, unable to share these potato buns with you in the virtual world of the Internet. So the best bargain from me would still be the recipe. And the best favor you can do for yourself now is roll up your sleeves, get the yeast and glutens in the flour to work, fire up the oven and bake the bread yourself.

Potato Buns
Adapted from The World of Bread[s] 《烘出麵包香》 by Alex Goh and Paris Sweets by Dorie Greenspan

I ain’t going to lie: The original recipe has been largely adapted. The custard powder, an optional ingredient here, is present mainly to taint the crumb with a milky yellowish hue, because the potato buns I grew up with always looked slightly yellowish to me. And if you don’t fancy anything whole wheat like I do, you can use just white bread flour.

Also, adjust the amount of sugar to your preference. But as I can recall, the bread is always on the sweet side, so 90 to 100 grams of sugar is just nice for me. And the dough for these potato buns is somewhat sticky, so dust the work surface and your hands judiciously with flour while handling it. In the end you’ll understand why all the hard work and patience are worth putting forth.

Oh, by the way, I even made my own custard from scratch for both the bread and the topping, with the vanilla pastry cream recipe from Paris Sweets, a favorite cookbook of mine, by Dorie Greenspan.


(A)
420 grams bread flour, or more if the dough becomes wetter than you can handle
180 grams whole-wheat bread flour
70 — 100 grams granulated sugar
1½ teaspoons fine sea salt
1½ tablespoons whole milk powder
1 — 2 heaped tablespoon(s) custard powder
4 teaspoons instant yeast

(B)
110 grams lukewarm water, at about 43°C
270 grams homemade vanilla pastry cream, at room temperature, and more for topping (recipe to follow)
120 grams plain, unseasoned mashed potatoes, warm or at room temperature

60 grams unsalted butter, cubed and kept chilled
All-purpose flour, for dusting the work surface and hands
Egg wash


In a large mixing bowl, combine (A). Stir in (B), and mix until a wet and shaggy dough has formed. Turn it out onto a floured work surface, flour your hands really well and knead until the dough feels somewhat supple and slightly tacky to the touch — by now the glutens inside the flour should have almost developed. While kneading, if the dough sticks to your hands, work in additional bread flour, say, a tablespoon at a time. Knead in the cold butter to fully incorporate. Now the glutens should have fully developed, and the dough becomes somewhat smooth and feels supple to the touch. Round it up into a tight ball, then let it proof in the same mixing bowl that’s been lightly oiled, smooth side up, covered and free of draft, until it is double in volume.

When it’s doubled in volume, deflate the dough, and let rest for about 15 minutes. In the meantime, grease two 9 x 9-inch square pans. Divide the dough into 30 equal portions, shape them into tight balls and place in the prepared pans, with four buns in each row. Cover the pans and let the dough proof until it’s almost double in volume in a draft-free environment.

Preheat the oven to 180°C.

Transfer the vanilla pastry cream into a piping bag fitted with a tiny plain tip, and set aside. Brush the surface of the risen dough with egg wash, and then pipe the pastry cream over the top, with a line across each row, both horizontally and vertically, so that a cross is drawn atop each bun. Bake in the preheated oven for 25 minutes, or until the buns look golden brown and are cooked through. Remove from the oven, unmold the bread in its entirety onto a cooling rack to cool completely before consumption and/or storing in an airtight container or plastic storage bag.

Yield: 30 buns


***

Vanilla Pastry Cream (Crème Pâtissière à la Vanille)
Adapted from Paris Sweet by Dorie Greenspan

The nice thing about this cream is it can be made by two days in advance. If you don’t have (good-quality) vanilla beans, you may use one tablespoon of pure vanilla extract instead — but do so only after you’ve stirred in the butter.


500 grams whole milk
1 moist, plump vanilla bean, split and scraped

(C)
6 large egg yolks, at room temperature
100 grams granulated or superfine sugar
45 grams cornstarch, sifted

50 grams unsalted butter, cut into three pats, at room temperature


Over medium heat, bring the milk and vanilla bean (pulp and pod) to a boil in a small saucepan. Cover the pan, turn off the heat, and allow the milk to infuse for at least 10 minutes, or for up to an hour. (If necessary, reheat the milk until hot before proceeding.)

Whisk together (C) in a heavy-bottomed medium saucepan. Whisking constantly, drizzle one-quarter of the hot milk over the yolks. When the yolks are warm, whisk the remainder of the milk into the yolks in a steadier stream; remove and discard the pod (or save it for another use: for instance, you may first rinse it, and dry it in a warm oven or over the counter, before plunging it into a canister of sugar or grinding with sugar in a food processor for vanilla sugar). Return the hot mixture into the same saucepan.

Place the saucepan over medium heat and, whisking vigorously, bring the mixture to the boil. Keep at the boil — still whisking energetically — for one to two minutes, then pull the pan from the heat and press the cream through the strainer into a medium-size bowl. Stir the cream frequently until it reaches 60°C, by which it should feel lukewarm to the touch. Then whisk in the butter, and continue whisking until the cream is completely cooled and ready for use.

On storing: Press a sheet of plastic wrap against the cream’s surface to create an airtight seal, and refrigerate, for up to two days. To smooth the chilled cream, whisk it for a few seconds.

Yield: 800 grams (about two cups)

Blessings, I’m Counting

Stroll through the woods in the twilight so serene.

There’s a stream that sounds so busy.

Cross the bridge above it and I see

The water underneath that's made me laugh and cry within.

There, that’s one of my maiden attempts at writing poems. (Oh well, if you’d even consider that a poem.) The idea and the urge to write that down struck me while I was at work (impeccable timing!), which was more than half a year ago, actually. The Muse paid me a surprise visit, and I jumped on the chance and had an intimate chat with her. I’m rather pleased with how things turned out then; I now have a poem that I can call my own — one that whispers to my heart.

Like the rapid water, time flushes down the stream, catching me off guard. I’d done things I never did before then — some commendable and some sober, while others regrettable and plain silly. I put myself on a limb through some painfully odd encounters while in search of the “soul mate” (soul mate, eh?); through immersing myself in the wrong industry and writing about subjects that never interest me; and shortly then, exhausting myself at the job I took up in July.

I’ve been missing in action. Life has been tough on my end. Nonetheless, I’m glad that now I can feel relieved for a little, because I’ve just left behind the job that’s turned my sense of time upside down. I’ll be embarking on a familiarly new and exciting journey as a full-time writer(!!) once again.

I could go on and on, ranting at you, about how miserable I feel and how terrible the last four months had been, but I’ve decided not to. Because of the inherent challenges, including handling the exacting supervisor, I grow. Plus, life is short, and I only live once, and there are many other things around me that deserve my attention and ought to be told.

Albeit left behind, tagging along with me from my previous job are bittersweet memories, precious lessons learned, and invaluable friendships. (Photo courtesy of Andrew, my ex-colleague.)

I am sure I’ve said this many a time, but allow me to reiterate: How blessed I am to have a family, friends, and (former) co-workers who care and support me. Not that it’s my first time realizing this. But I’ve learned to appreciate these people even more. I’m counting my blessings.

I turned 24 on Oct. 3. From morning till late evening that day, to my pleasant surprise, I was showered with wishes after wishes, including the lovely email from my American mom, Bonnie. And then, during my last days of work, I was, again, deluged with advice, kind thoughts, and well wishes from my former co-workers.

Things got frustrating at work. But boy, these little messages, simple and yet thoughtful, cheered me up and kept me going. Other than a big thank-you, I’m not sure what else to say, or what to do in return to express my gratitude.

Well, actually, there’s another way. Those who know me deep and long enough, especially in real life, will tell you that Pei-Lin often shows her love through food. Or, to be more precise, her own food.

That’s what I’d learned from my American family and friends: The joy of baking and cooking and eating with loved ones transcends words. Sharing makes the world go round. Yes?

Of course, today I’m not here to list down every dish that I’d shared, but instead, I’m going to share with you the birthday treat I’d made for myself.

Never mind its sloppy looks as long as it tastes divine. And not to worry, because I did not have the cake all to myself.

This unusual chocolate cake recipe, adapted from Pâtisserie Stohrer in Dorie Greenspan’s book, Paris Sweets, introduced me to the unexpected pairing of chocolate and thyme. As odd as it may sound, things actually work out beautifully.

The cake starts off with thin layers of chocolate genoise, which tend to dry up easily, and so they’re fed with a judicious amount of thyme-infused syrup before smearing over with silky thyme-flavored pastry cream and luscious chocolate mousse. I know that at this stage, the cake already beckons. But you’re advised to allow the elements to set and mingle in the fridge for a few hours.

The reward is a perfectly moist, tender layered cake that, amid dark-chocolaty goodness, gives off the soft earthy, savory note of thyme. As a matter of fact, it may seem like there’s an overdose of thyme in the recipe, but it is not. The thyme actually brightens up the otherwise mundane, rich-tasting chocolate cake.

This is what happened then, during the week of my birthday …

Scrounged around the pantry after work, feeling dazed.

In the fridge I found slices of the cake looking unfazed.

Dainty helpings of thyme-ly chocolaty bliss

Had made me smile and dance within.

Good stuff is meant to be shared. So this cake is also for my dad, my brother, and my close friends Qin Yi, Ee Vian, and Phui Peng, whose birthdays — never mind whether now belated or not — aren’t far from mine.

A friend is that special someone who always makes you feel cherished and happy amid life's ups and downs — as in Phui Peng is to me. (Photo courtesy of Cheng Wan, my ex-colleague.)

Le gâteau chocolat-thym is a toast to life, which has made me laugh and cry within, and a tribute to those who have stood by me and helped me pull through life.

Chocolate-Thyme Cake (Gâteau Chocolat-Thym)
Adapted from Pâtisserie Stohrer, via Paris Sweets by Dorie Greenspan

For the chocolate mousse, I find dark chocolate with 60-percent cacao content yields just the right sweetness and flavor. And don’t skimp on thyme; I’d up the quantity to six or seven sprigs — that is, if you have a fussy palate like mine — for the syrup and the cream each, if I were to the cake again.

I must also admit that preparing a genoise batter is still a weakness of mine. So, for gentler handling and a thorough incorporation of the ingredients, I followed the advice from Happy Homebaker and Zhuoyuan and used a balloon whisk instead of a large rubber spatula to fold the dry ingredients and melted butter into the main batter. It works, always!

And unlike Stohrer, instead of finishing the cake with a thin coating of chocolate glaze, I simply served it with a dusting of cocoa atop. Just as delicious.


For the cake:

(A)
70 grams all-purpose flour
25 grams Dutch-processed cocoa powder (unsweetened, for baking)
¼ teaspoon double-acting baking powder
¼ teaspoon baking soda

(B)
3 large eggs, at room temperature
100 grams superfine or granulated sugar

45 grams unsalted butter, melted and cooled

For the thyme syrup:

(C)
180 grams water
100 grams sugar
5 sprigs fresh thyme

For the thyme cream:

(D)
125 grams whole milk
125 grams heavy cream

50 grams superfine or granulated sugar, separated
5 sprigs fresh thyme, or more or less according to your taste
3 large egg yolks, at room temperature

1¼ teaspoons unflavored powdered gelatin
30 grams (2 tablespoons) cold water

For the chocolate mousse:

100 grams bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped
250 grams heavy cream, chilled


To make the cake:

Preheat the oven to 180°C. Grease a 20 x 5-centimeter (8 x 2-inch) round cake pan, line the bottom with a circle of parchment, grease the parchment, too, and flour the entire interior, tapping out the excess.

Sift together (A), and set aside.

Whisk together (B) in a large mixing bowl, and place the bowl in a large skillet filled with a few inches of hot water. Working over medium-high heat and whisking without stop, beat the eggs and sugar till they are foamy and just warm to the touch. Remove the bowl from the skillet, and continue beating on high speed till the mixture is cool and at least double in volume. When you lift the whisk, the mixture should fall back into the bowl in a slowly dissolving ribbon. Switch to a large balloon whisk and gently and gradually fold in the sifted dry ingredients. When the dry ingredients are no longer visible, gently fold in the melted butter.

Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and bake for 20 to 22 minutes, or till the cake is springy to the touch. Transfer the cake to a wire rack to cool for five minutes, then run a blunt knife between the cake and the sides of the pan, invert the cake onto another wire rack, remove the parchment, and invert again onto the first rack. Let cool to room temperature. The cake can now be wrapped airtight and kept at room temperature for two days or frozen for a month.

To make the syrup:

Place (C) in a small saucepan and stir over high heat till the sugar has dissolved. Bring to the boil, pull from the heat, and cool. Discard the thyme. The syrup — minus the thyme sprigs — can be covered and refrigerated for up to a week.

To make the thyme cream:

Bring (D), two tablespoons of the sugar, and the thyme to a full boil in a medium saucepan. Stir to dissolve the sugar, turn off the heat, and let infuse for at least 10 minutes or for up to an hour (if necessary, reheat till hot before using). Meanwhile, sprinkle the gelatin over the cold water. When it is soft and spongy, heat it for 15 seconds in a microwave, or do this stovetop, to liquefy; set aside.

Discard the thyme in the milk-and-cream mixture. Whisk together the yolks and the remaining sugar in a small bowl. Still whisking, gradually pour in the hot thyme-infused milk-and-cream mixture over the yolks, then pour everything back into the saucepan. Stirring constantly, cook over medium heat till the cream coats a spoon — when you run a finger down the back of the spoon, the track you create should remain. Strain the cream into a clean bowl, stir in the dissolved gelatin, and chill, stirring frequently, just till it thickens ever so slightly. Once the cream begins to show signs of thickening, pull it out of the fridge and keep it at room temperature while you make the mousse. When you’re ready to use it, the cream should be part pourable, part spreadable, like the mousse.

To make the mousse:

Put the chocolate in a medium bowl. Bring 125 grams (½ cup) of the cream to a full boil and pour it over the chocolate. Wait a minute, then gently stir till the chocolate is smooth and glossy. Cool the ganache, stirring occasionally, till it no longer feels warm to the touch.

Meanwhile, whip the remaining cream till it forms soft peaks — the cream has to be cold to be whipped. Stir a couple of tablespoons of the lightly whipped cream into the cooled ganache, then gently fold in the rest.

To assemble the cake:

Line the bottom of a 20-centimeter (eight-inch) springform pan with parchment (I used aluminum foil, and for the springform pan, mine is 23 centimeters, or nine inches, wide). Using a serrated knife, cut a thin slice off the top of the cake to level it; cut the cake horizontally in half. Put the bottom cake layer into the ring, cut side up (if needed, trim the layer to fit the pan), and brush with enough syrup to moisten it well. Spread the thyme cream evenly over the cake, making sure to spread it all the way to the edges, then top with the other layer of the cake. Moisten the cake with syrup (you may have the syrup left over) and top with the mousse, spreading it smoothly. Chill the cake for at least two hours. (As seen in the photos, you can probably tell the rebel in me didn’t quite follow the instructions. Well.)

If the cake is very cold, let it stand at room temperature for about 30 minutes before serving. Unmold the cake and transfer it to a serving platter. The easiest way to unmold this cake is to warm the sides of the springform pan with a hairdryer before undoing the latch.

Note: The cake keeps for up to four days, refrigerated and covered and away from foods with strong odor. It also stores well frozen, wrapped airtight, for up to a month — just defrost overnight in the fridge to consume.

Are You Still There?

Hello, Friend.

It’s been more than six weeks, of what seems like forever for me to update this blog (FINALLY)!

In fact, there will be a new post and a recipe here in about two days, before we say goodbye to October and to fall and embrace winter. Oh, time flees!

On the other hand, I’m happy to announce that I survived possibly one of the roughest patches of my entire life. So, please allow me some more time to recover from fatigue and to get everything up and running here once again. And if you’d left me questions or comments during my long absence, please feel free to check them out now. It’s never my intention to keep you suspended, and for that, I apologize.

Alright, I shall sign off for now. See you in a couple of days!