The Depression
The Depression. A Grey Cake. With a Big Gay surprise!
It is only fitting after a horrible year of loss after loss that at some point The Depression bubbled to the surface. A childhood that had me eating peanut butter and jam sandwiches, was surfacing. The rain kept coming, the sky remained grey, and I was firmly planted inside, depressed and drinking copious amounts of Earl Grey tea. Yet deep inside, there was a rainbow of gaiety just wanting so desperately to spill forth.
The Depression is a Peanut Butter and Jam cake with an Earl Grey Silk Meringue Buttercream. My dad was from New York. He showed me how to make a “peanut butter and jelly sandwich” (though in Australia we call it jam). I made my own strawberry jam for this cake, using the strawberries that are in season keeping them chunky. Because, classy.
The cake layers are peanut butter chiffon cake. Light, moist and peanutty. Did you know the Peanut butter and jelly sandwich was part of a “racist sandwich” fiasco? In 2012 when a USA school principle wanted to talk about food and race, and suggested schools serve more foods that students from diverse cultures may prefer, it sparked a debate, misunderstandings, and new critiques about diversity came to the forefront. Folks were called to look at their implicit bias, and blind spot bias, and of course, the peanut butter and jelly sandwich with its associated meanings.
Anyhow, as a tour guide with a social anthropology degree, who has been a chef for 30 years, and has no idea what my actual racial heritage is (dont start, it is a long story) these things are always at the forefront of my mind. Food anthropology is bloody interesting stuff. One day, I might even write about it. I certainly talk about it on my tours, when I am liaising between cultures and busting arse to encourage mutual empathy and understanding with all who are under my employ or my care of duty, one meal at a time.
The thing about a Depressed cake though, is ALWAYS underneath it all is SOMETHING. Some kind of trauma, repression or undealt with fuckwittery. In my case it was the violent, untimely and a rather devastating cascade of the rainbow sprinkles. They were trapped inside that grey miserable peanut butter and jam cake. They were bright, colourful, firm, knowing, secure and full of energy. Yet, teenage rejection set it deep. And despite the loss of economic independence, the lawyers, the bankruptcy, the loss of creative projects, loss of travel freedom, core support group, years of work gone, a year of late night bullying sessions and persistent anxiety and compulsive walking on eggshells as a result in 2020…these cute bubbly rainbow sprinkles spilled out. Nothing was stopping them. They spilled with gay abandon. They came out. They were the very thing holding this sad sad cake up in the first place. Yet buried. So buried, that from the outside you would never know there was so much gayness inside. And so much greyness covering it all up.
So if you are having a bad day, then The Depression is for you. I recently told a friend I was gay, and her answer was “yep, so what, isn’t everyone?”. If you are ready, then this cake also makes the perfect coming out cake, Slice into it, and scream “I am gay peoples” as the rainbow flows outta it. Best way to sweeten the sweet moment of truth, dont you think? Let the gaiety spill forth, may it give you the perfect pick me up for the pandemic blues. If you are in the travel biz like I was, may it take a tiny edge off the total and complete annihilation of our careers, passions, chosen way of life and future. Just one tiny rainbow sprinkle at a time…
and lets face it, Australia has some of the worlds longest lockdowns. So it is with THIS cake, we shall come out. COME OUT. Hmmmm maybe it should be called The Coming Out Cake.
If you dont have the time to bake, now that you are busy shopping at Kmart at midnight, then buy one of these at my bakeshop, and take it to your nearest double vexed gathering. errrr I mean Vaxxed. (or not, or trying to)
The Depression Cake Recipe
Peanut Butter Chiffon Cake:
5 eggs at room temperature
120g caster sugar
120ml vegetable oil
130g crunchy peanut butter
190g plain flour
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
zest of 1 lemon
100g caster sugar
Pinch of cream of tartar
Separate the eggs
Whisk yolks with the sugar until pale in colour. Whisk in the oil, peanut butter, lemon zest.
Sift in the flour, baking powder and salt from a height and fold through with a spatula.
Whisk the egg whites and cream of tartar to soft peaks. Add second lot of caster sugar (the 100g) until glossy peaks.
Add 1/3 of egg white mix to batter to loosen the mix. It makes it easier to fold the rest through. Then add another 1/3, then the final 1/3.
Divide between 2 x 20cm springform tins. Do not grease them, but do line he bases with a circle of baking paper.
Bake 180c oven until the sides of cake slightly shrink away (about 45 min).
Let cool for 20 mins, then take off Tim, and peel back baking paper.
Let cool completely before slicing each cake in half horizontally, and stamping out a glass sized circle from 3 of the cake pieces.
Strawberry Jam:
2 punnets of strawberries (trimmed)
150g castor sugar
30ml lemon juice
40ml water
Boil together for 2 mins.
Strain off juice.
Re boil juice until reduced by 1/2.
Add strained strawberries and boil for 2 more minutes. Let cool.
Earl Grey Swiss Meringue Buttercream:
120g eggwhites
175g sugar
2g cream of tartare
2g salt
whisk together over hot water until 70c
take off heat and ballon whisk in stand mixer 5 mins until 30c and stiff peaks form
270g soft butter
add diced butter a few tbs at a time until incorporated
50g warm highly concentrated earl grey tea (from a twinnings tea bag)
5g black gel food colouring
whisk in
To Construct the cake:
Place a cake layer (with hole) on the cake plate, top with 1/4 of the buttercream and spread.
Top with strawberry jam
Add another layer of cake, butter cream and jam.
Add another layer of cake, butter cream and jam.
Fill the hole with Holigay sprinkles, smarties, peanut M&M’s, or 100s & 1000s.
Top with last layer of cake (the one without the hole punched out).
Cover the entire cake with the remaining buttercream.