Diablo, the red devil
layers of red velvet and chocolate cake smothered in cream cheese frosting
I have a fetish with red velvet cake.
I can say it.
Biting through rich cream cheese frosting into
chocolate cake stained a post-apocalyptic shade of
red. What's not to love?
I am guilty of going to Philips BBQ (the best
in LA), resisting the spicy, smoky BBQ aroma and
ordering 2 slices of red velvet cake (to go!).
It is a given that I am going to polish one slice off on
the drive home.
Precisely how and when this devilish confection
escaped from a vintage trailer park oven-ette, I have
no idea.
Searching and weighing all the recipes that I could
find on the web, I never succeeded in creating
anything near velvety enough.
In fact, all I had accomplished to date were a few
very toxic looking trifles!
Most recipes call for shortening or oil over butter and
all-purpose (plain) flour with baking soda over self
raising flour. I always bake with butter and self
raising flour (I'm lousy at math, so the flour:baking
powder ratio always befuddles me, and I can never
be bothered sifting, so self-raising is the way to
go)...but I didn't want to deny myself the science-
experiment thrill of the vinegar and baking soda and I
suspected that the oil held some secret to the
velvety crumb of this cake.
So I compromised. half butter / half oil. half SR flour /
half plain flour. A few more tweaks and I was ready
to go. I got hyperactive just pouring the food colour
into the batter...
...poured it all into some feisty red silicone heart-
shaped pans from Crate & Barrel, and I was minutes
away from a diabolical treat.
For a love-conquers-all T.K.O, I decided to squeeze
in a layer of molten chocolate cake as well and then
sandwich it all together with cream cheese frosting
and raspberries.
I have a love-hate relationship with cream cheese
frosting. It is so often over-whipped until it reaches a
dry, starchy-ness that recalls your aunt's lace
tablecloths...you know; the ones that leave a blood-
red tattoo on your elbows for a week.
By adding a little yoghurt into mine, I achieved that
smooth-lava flow; about-to-topple-over-the-sides-
any-second-but-somehow-never-does consistency.
Lusciously lickable to the last slice.
In fact, I poured the leftovers into the bowl of
cherries and raspberries and had a little
frosting-gasm.
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