What’s cooking? Broken Phyllo Cake with Orange Spiced Syrup
Three college graduates – one a PhD – with long and successful careers behind them set out to drive to a friend’s house 35 miles away. I was one of them. (Not the PhD.) Because it’s mostly hill country driving, and because I’d actually looked it up on my phone, I knew it would be about 45-50 minutes.
I entered the address into the GPS on my phone, and off we went. I’d been to this woman’s house once, and thought we’d be heading down one of the back roads I knew, but I always trust WAZE to get me there without terrible traffic, so when we headed down I35, I thought, “Hmmm. Maybe an accident or construction on the other route.” We were moving in the right general direction, at least. Maybe this was just a different approach.
An hour later, we found ourselves in a dead end. I called our hostess, and she confirmed the address... sort of. “We live on Riverbend Road,” she said. “Not Riverbend Avenue.” This is perhaps a problem with lots of Texas roads – not enough original names.
“I’ve got it on my phone,” said the PhD. “Just head out this direction and turn left.”
“Don’t worry,” I said to the hostess. “We’ll be there soon.”
Well, “soon,” we had to call her back.
“What’s the address in your phone?” she asked the PhD. Turns out this time, we had the wrong town. (Lots of small towns in this area of Texas.)
Eventually, we got to our intended destination, but it had taken almost two hours.
So any time you are feeling cocky about how smart you are, stop for a minute and think about this story.
* * *
The reason our hostess wasn’t especially upset about our tardiness is that we were bringing the dessert. Of course. I was upset because we’d actually started out on time, and as a person who is “punctually challenged,” I find it especially irritating to be ambushed by circumstances out of my control. Yes, I know the Road/Avenue thing wasn’t technically out of my control, but still...
In any case, all was forgiven when they saw the dessert. This cake, known as portokalopita in Greece, where it originated, is a spongy marvel soaked in spiced orange syrup.
So, how many ways do I love this cake?
1. The texture. The “flour” comes only from phyllo pastry that has been cut into strips and baked to a crisp before being folded into the batter. The resulting structure looks much like a sponge and has a delightful chewyness.
2. The syrup. That structure doesn’t just look like a sponge, it also acts like one, soaking up the syrup which has been infused with cinnamon, cardamom and bay for added dimensions of flavor then poured over the cake right out of the oven. And although the flavor of the cake has a whiff of orange before the pourover, the syrup fills every nook and cranny with spiced orange goodness.
3. The crust. Before the pourover, you poke holes in the crust with a toothpick. So the syrup doesn’t sit on top of the cake but funnels right to the inside, leaving the top crust nice and crunchy.
4. The efficiency. You’ll find that this cake – which is baked in a regular 9-inch cake pan – is sweet enough and rich enough to satisfy 10-12 guests. So it’s a great cake to take to a party – easy to make, no icing to labor over, and it travels well. A thin slice, served with a dollop of whipped cream or whipped cream mixed with plain Greek yogurt, is the perfect end to a meal.
I imagine that – much like the origins of Italian burrata cheese and the French fromage fort – this is one of those dishes that came out of some thoughtful cook saying “I must be able to do something with all these leftover bits of phyllo...”
Broken Phyllo Cake with Orange and Bay Leaves
Adapted from Rose Hattabaugh for Christopher Kimball's Milk Street Magazine
Serves: 10-12
Kitchen Goddess note on the oranges: You’ll need two whole oranges for the recipe: one for the grated zest in the cake, and one for the zest strips in the syrup. And it’s easier to zest both before juicing them. (You’ll likely need both oranges to get ½ cup of juice.) Use a rasp to grate the orange for the cake, and a regular veggie peeler to get strips for the syrup. The key with the strips is to get as little of the white pith as you can.
Ingredients
For the cake:
1 cup (214 grams) white sugar
1 large orange
1 cup (240 grams) whole-milk Greek yogurt (the KG has used both whole-milk and non-fat yogurt, with no discernible difference)
1 cup grapeseed oil or other neutral oil (canola, corn, peanut, sunflower, safflower, vegetable)
5 large eggs
1 tablespoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon kosher salt
Equipment: 1. a 9-inch cake pan whose sides are at least 2 inches high. (If the sides aren’t high enough, the syrup will overflow the pan.) 2. A half-sheet baking pan with a rim.
For the syrup:
4 three-inch strips orange zest (or three 4-inch strips, or... you know)
½ cup orange juice
3-inch cinnamon stick (or ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon)
2 cardamom pods, lightly smashed (or ½ teaspoon ground cardamom)
3 whole bay leaves
Directions
For the cake:
Heat the oven to 350°F with a rack in the middle position.
Roll the thawed phyllo lengthwise, then slice the roll crosswise in ½-inch wide strips.
Transfer the phyllo strips to the rimmed baking sheet, using your hands to unfurl and separate the strips. Distribute the strips in an even layer and bake until brittle and light golden brown, 15 to 18 minutes, gently flipping the phyllo about halfway through. (You’ll need a spatula and your hands to do the turning – just try to rotate the bottom pieces to the top. And don’t worry if pieces break as they’re turning.) Cool to room temperature on the baking sheet.
Phyllo strips before baking. |
Phyllo strips after baking |
While the phyllo is baking, mist the cake pan with cooking spray (or grease it with vegetable oil), line the bottom with a round of baker’s parchment, then mist/grease the parchment.
In the bowl of a stand mixer, place the sugar. Grate the orange over the sugar. (By grating the orange into the sugar, you get the maximum impact from the fragrant oils in the peel.) Using the paddle attachment to the mixer, beat the sugar and grated orange zest together at medium speed until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Reduce the mixing speed to low, and add the yogurt, oil, eggs (one at a time, making sure each is fully incorporated before adding the next), baking powder, and salt. Increase the speed to medium and beat about a minute, until the batter is well combined. Use a spatula to scrape the bowl as needed.
Remove the bowl from the mixer. Add half of the cooled phyllo to the batter base and, using a spatula, fold until the phyllo is well coated with the batter and almost evenly moistened. Add the remaining phyllo and continue to fold until no dry patches of phyllo remain.
Pour the batter into the prepared pan and use your spatula to gently spread (without compressing) the batter in an even layer. Bake until deep golden brown and a toothpick inserted at the center of the cake comes out clean, 45 to 50 minutes.
While the cake bakes, make the syrup.
For the syrup:
When the cake is almost done, strain the syrup, discarding the zest strips, cinnamon stick, cardamom pods, and bay leaves.
Set the cake – still in its pan – on a wire rack and, using a toothpick, immediately poke holes (30-40) down deeply into the cake every inch or so. Slowly pour half the syrup evenly onto the warm cake, then let it stand for about 5 minutes to let the syrup soak in. After 5 minutes, slowly pour on the remaining syrup. Not all of the syrup will soak in immediately, and the excess liquid may flood the pan. Do not fret. Let the cake cool to room temperature and until all (or most) of the syrup has been absorbed, at least 2 hours or even overnight.
To serve, run a thin knife around the inside edge of the pan to loosen the cake, then invert the cake onto a platter. Lift off the pan and peel off the parchment, then re-invert the cake onto a serving plate. This part is best done over a sink or large pan, so that any remaining syrup doesn’t drip where you don’t want it to.
Serve slices slightly chilled or at room temperature, with a dollop of whipped cream, or whipped cream mixed with plain Greek yogurt. Leftovers will keep well wrapped in the refrigerator for up to four days.
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