There are days when a kitchen feels like a loyal friend, warm, predictable, cooperative; and then there are days when it behaves like a moody artistic diva who simply refuses to collaborate. A few days ago, I woke up full of ambition, confidence and a slightly inflated belief in my own culinary potential. My mission? Nothing less than a glorious, homemade, hand pulled pie with cheese, eggs and spinach. Yes, I decided to make proper, stretched, paper-thin filo by hand. The kind that looks rustic, golden and proudly Balkan. š„°
And you know what? It started beautifully. I was in the zone. I was stretching those layers like an old lady who knows exactly what sheās doing. Exceptā¦
I clearly didnāt.
I chose the wrong cheese. It was delicious but too strong, too greasy and when combined with spinach (which I rarely use, Iām more of a chard or "zelje" girl; have no idea how I would translate zelje to you xD), the filling simply melted nd disappeared somewhere between the layers. So instead of having that rich, generous, savoury filling between crispy golden sheets brushed in glorious pork fat, I ended up withā¦ wellā¦ something else. A giant, sweetish, oddly bready roll with hardly any filling at all. A confused pastry with identity issues.
Now, I refuse to be too harsh towards myself. It was edible, it wasnāt a disaster in terms of taste, but letās be honest: it was not a pie. Not my pie. Not the one I imagined.
The next morning, I was still in my feelings. After such a disappointment, I had half a mind to boycott (!!!) the kitchen entirely. No dessert, no cooking, no whisking, no wooden spoon in my hand... nothing! My confidence had crumbled like a stale biscuit.
But our friends, the card-playing crew change my mind. You see, we have this lovely tradition: we often gather at their place for Rummy nights. And there was an agreement that I would bring a cake. I told them I wasnāt in the mood for another failure, but did they care? Of course not. They used emotional blackmail. And charm. And guilt. And phrases like:
"Oh come on, even if it collapses, weāll eat it with spoons straight from the tray!"
So I rolled up my sleeves and decided to bake again. Because apparently, I am both weak and easily persuaded by people who offer snacks and card games. This timeā¦ the cake turned out great. :D
Not only did it not collapse, it stood firm, proud, layered, sweet and soooo delicious.
The cake I made is called Ledene kocke / Ice cubes; soft cocoa sponge, warm syrup over it, generous vanilla cream, and glossy chocolate glaze. Very comforting, very "childhood fav dessert"! <3
I followed a recipe that goes like this...
For the sponge: 5 eggs 100 g sugar 50 g flour 30 g cocoa 1/2 teaspoon baking powder a pinch of salt
For the syrup: 300 g sugar 250 ml water
For the cream filling: 1 litre milk 75 g cornflour + 75 g flour 250 g sugar 3 packets vanilla sugar 250 g butter 1 ampoule (2 ml) lemon extract, or 1 teaspoon from a bottle
For the glaze: 150 g dark cooking chocolate 60 ml oil
The sponge - Whisk the egg whites with sugar until you get a stiff, glossy meringue. Add yolks one by one. Fold in the sifted flour, cocoa, salt, and baking powder. Pour into a 25Ć35 cm tray and bake at 180Ā°C for about 15 minutes. Cool completely.
The syrup - Boil water and sugar for about 10 minutes. Pour the hot syrup over the cold sponge. It will pool at first ā donāt panic. You may prick the sponge with a fork to help it absorb.
The cream - Mix cornflour and flour with a bit of cold milk until smooth. Heat the remaining milk with sugar and vanilla sugar. When it boils, pour in the flour mixture and stir until thick. Cover with cling film and let it cool to lukewarm. Beat butter and lemon extract, then combine with the cream.
The glaze - Melt chocolate and oil. Pour over the cream layer and tilt the tray to spread evenly. Chill well before slicing.
Since I wanted a thicker sponge, I increased the eggs to six and then adjusted all other sponge ingredients proportionally. So far, so good. But when it came to the syrup, I forgot to increase the water and sugar to match the larger sponge. Surprisingly, it still turned out juicy enough. I also multiplied all the filling ingredients by 1.5, except the butter, because I didnāt have more in the fridge. That resulted in a cream that was slightly denser, a bit stickier,and not quite as silky as it should have been. But still tasty. Not a big failure, just a tiny "note to self". As for the glaze, I added a splash or two of milk so the chocolate wouldnāt harden completely, because we were in a hurry to leave and I didnāt want the glaze to crack while cutting. And yes, I also skipped the lemon extract. I could swear the original version of this recipe didnāt have it and I panicked that it would make the white layer too sour. Next time, Iāll be brave and follow every single instruction!
When I finally sliced it and placed a neat cube on a plate, I almost applauded to myself. The layers were visible... chocolate, white cream, shiny glaze and it perfectly held its shape. Not a spoon in sight.
Our friends were genuinely impressed, and one of them even said:
"Honestlyā¦ I think your cake is better than my mumās."
At that moment, I knew I had healed from the pie trauma. š
Not a single crumb was wasted. The tray came home empty.
The last time I tried to take a "chef introduction" photo, I made the brilliant decision to pose with freshly chopped onions... and ended up crying for half an hour, hehe. So this time Iāll skip this part (even though there is no onion in this cake, hihi) and leave here just one photo of the chef (yes, thatās me!). Sending you all lots of hugs and kisses! All of that, of course, with good food by our side! ā¤ļø
- All the photos in this blog were taken by me; straight from my kitchen to you. š©āš³