It finally got really, truly cold, and the wind is gusting and howling furiously outside. Greta has decided that she is going to stay indoors, all bundled up, until the weather improves. And the wind is making Kip all crazy.
Cake! It seems like it’s been a while since I’ve blogged about it, but please know that cake is never far from my mind. Now I’m about to explain something that might seem like a little bit of a tangent, but I promise we’ll get back to cake soon.
I have been reading Frank Tallis’ Liebermann Papers series of mysteries, and generally I really like them. If you read and liked The Alienist, you might enjoy these as well, as they have numerous interesting things in common with that extraordinary novel, although they are lighter, and since they are a series, there is a recognizable pattern to each story – a formula, yes, but I don’t think that’s always necessarily a bad thing.
Anyway, Tallis sets the series in early 20th-century Vienna, and among all the other delightful details of daily Viennese life he regularly features pastry. Not in that throwaway, idle reference kind of way like Stieg Larsson and his Swedish sandwiches. Oh no. Each book features horrifying murder, explorations of the human psyche and the outer limits of the early 20th-century's forensic sciences, music, Sigmund Freud telling (usually) some rather awful jokes, and multiple trips for coffee at some charming café or other, which is inevitably accompanied by something sugary and fabulous.
Apfelstrudel, germknödel, topfenstrudel, millirahmstrudel, Sacher torte, punschkrapfen, Esterhazy tortes, Kuglof cakes, and Linzer tortes are practically characters in the books. And this is no joke: Vienna, which was then the capital of Austria-Hungary, LOVES its pastries and cakes. The Austrians do not mess around when it comes to dessert, is what I’m saying.
In one of these books, Rheinhardt, one of the primary characters, enjoys a transcendently delicious slice of Dobostorta at a café. I had never heard of Dobostorta, so I looked it up. Here is a picture of it:
Perhaps, like me, you immediately thought of Maryland’s Official State Dessert, the Smith Island Cake?
As a Marylander of partial Hungarian ancestry, I must point out that Smith Island cake includes crushed candy between its layers, has a cooked chocolate icing, and generally has between 9 and 11 layers.
Dobostorta (aka Dobos cake, Dobos torte, Doboshtorta and several other variations) has between 5 and 7 layers, is filled with chocolate buttercream and has a layer of caramel-glazed cake on top. So see? Completely different things.
Dobostorta was invented in Hungary in 1884 or 1885 by superstar food impresario József C. Dobos.
Dobos owned a specialty food shop in Budapest that featured a spectacular array of gourmet foods: at a time when shipping food over distance was unreliable at best, his shop routinely featured as many as sixty imported cheeses, as well as foreign wines, breads, and occasionally (and notably) cakes.
The fame of the Dobostorta is due, at least in part, to the inclusion of chocolate buttercream in the recipe – at that time, most cakes were iced or filled with cooked creams, whipped creams, or custards. Dobos had brought the buttercream recipe back with him from a trip to France, and shortly thereafter introduced the cake at the National General Exhibition of Budapest in 1885.
Dobostorta became crazily popular after it was embraced as a favorite by the Emperor and Empress of Austria-Hungary, but Dobos refused to reveal the recipe. I think this was part of his plan, actually: the Dobostorta was ideal for shipping: the frosting layers and the layer of caramel on top kept the cake fresh longer than most desserts of the day, so he created a special shipping container and the Dobostorta started appearing in all the great European capitals.
Dobos went on an international cake tour with the Dobostorta, personally introducing it in city after city, until the early 1900s. He finally presented the recipe to the Budapest Confectioners' and Gingerbread Makers' Chamber of Industry to ensure that the recipe would survive him and be widely available. Dobostorta became so famous that the people of Budapest threw a citywide party to celebrate its 75th anniversary. The celebration went on for three days.
I felt a little thrill as I imagined the parade of Budapest chefs marching to Dobos’ grave and solemnly placing wreaths in honor of his magnificent contribution to the Hungarian pastry arts. These are my people, I thought. We understand things about cake.