Sometime way back in the day of pre-pandemia I spent a ‘look-see’ day in a Day True kitchen showroom, arriving alongside an untraceable package containing an Angel Food Cake tin (or ‘tube pan’, in USian terminology). Most present on that day couldn’t make sense of this strangely shaped mould – with its straight deep sides, legs pointing heavenward, and an elevated funnel-shaped hole through its middle – less still of who might have ordered it, for what purpose, or to where it could be returned. By this quirk of fate, the tin took up a long-term residency in a showroom facsimile of a home kitchen where it remained long-term, unloved, and unused.
The cake it was designed for seemed to me then as out of time as the tin was out of place – a cake of a kind last seen trapped in the ‘aspic-adjacent’ pages of a mid-century cookbook written by a worthy home-economist, measuring out ingredients in fool-proof amounts, for an audience of previous era housewives as they set out to ‘entertain’.
On a recent return journey to Day True, I became reacquainted with this same tin, now ‘on display’ (an upgrade of sorts), and made a mental note to do it justice, by using it to bake the cake for which it is solely designed – after all, what can there be not to love about a cake named as the food of actual Angels?
In a bit of a hurry on an appropriately nominated baking day (a Sunday in the parish of Wimbledon Village), I turned for instruction to a YouTube ‘short’ where a ‘Professional Baker’ took me through the necessary steps in the language of origin of the cake (ie North American). Measurements were in cups and teaspoons (appropriate for a showroom kitchen that currently lacks a weighing scale), and instructions were clearly explained (the what and the why).
The result was a revelation – a light springy ‘chiffon*’ of a cake (*a technical term for the texture that perhaps originates alongside early associations with the 1930’s sirens of Hollywood’s silver screen who were said to be partial to the charms of a chiffon). If meringue were a cake, this cake would be it – a cloud soft whisper of heaven-sent sweetness, it is utterly divine. The angels would weep to know we’ve left this tin languishing, adrift from its destiny – at least until now – and my telling of this recipe, in all its glory hallelujah, is duly devoted to their choir.
Ingredients:
- 8 x egg whites
- ½ teaspoon cream of tartar
- a pinch of salt
- ½ cup icing sugar (sieved)
- ½ teaspoon vanilla essence
- 1 cup plain white cake flour (softer than plain flour – although, full confession, I used plain flour and it worked fine – also, very much not to be confused with ‘self-raising’ flour, which is flour that contains a raising agent)
- 1 cup granulated sugar
Method:
- With an electric whisk attachment, on a hand blender or in a stand mix, whisk the egg whites with the cream of tartar and salt until the egg whites are generously foaming and have turned from ‘yellow’ to ‘white’ (they don’t need to fully ‘develop’ (/ ‘foam’ to the max) at this stage).
- Sieve the icing sugar into the whites – gradually – while continuing to whisk the whites (don’t add the sugar too fast, or the whites will collapse).
- Continue whisking until the whites have reached a ‘medium’ peak (ie if you lift the whisk out of the bowl, the peak that is formed should be distinctly ‘firm’, but not fully ‘upright’ – it should ‘droop’ slightly at the tip.
- Add the vanilla essence, then sieve and fold in the flour and granulated sugar carefully into the whites. Use a manual whisk to fold, if you have one, or a metal spoon or spatula if you don’t – either way, fold ‘gently’ so as not to knock out the air you have carefully added to the egg whites.
- Transfer to the tin, which should be clean, dry, and otherwise ‘unprepared’ (a special joy!) – this is a cake that you want to stick to the sides of the tin as it climbs upwards. And this is why you need a dedicated tin – this cake needs to cook evenly (hence the hole in the middle) and needs to be totally flat (hence allowing it to stick to all the surfaces). Even up the batter around the tin so that it finds a general level.
- Place in a (pre-heated) oven at 160ºC – I used a VZug combi-steam oven and had it set to ‘hot-air, humid’ (ie the temperature is evenly distributed, but the moisture present in the cake is not extracted from the oven – it’s different from ‘fan’ or from ‘hot air with steam’ – but if you don’t have this setting, just a general 160ºC – with fan if you’ve got it – will do).
- Bake for about 30–35 minutes (check after 30) – the cake is ready if it springs back when you push gently at its surface.
- Turn upside down on a heat-proofed work surface (you don’t need a cooling rack if your cake tin has legs). The cake needs to cool upside down (to stretch it and to stop it from sinking back on itself), and it needs air to circulate under it (hence those crazy pointed legs).
- Once fully cool, you will have to release the edges using a flexible palette knife (or equivalent), around the outer edge, and something like a skewer around the inner ‘hole’. Turn out by giving it a sharp tap on the counter if the tin lacks a loose bottom (another technical term). With a moveable base you can just push the cake downwards onto a serving platter or plate before removing – use the palette knife or equivalent to help if you need it.
- Serve in slices with fresh berries and chilled cream.
Author: Erica Husain
