A Chest Full of Treasures
I’m not sure what hits first. The heady scent of smoke mingled with toasty chestnuts or the shouts from the sweaty uncle at the pushcart. “Gao lak! Lai,gao lak, gao lak, oei!*” those words would fill the street as he manoeuvres a long ladle round a wok filled with hot black sand and mahogany chestnuts. Those craving for the sweetness of the nuts would crowd around him, waiting for their own brown bag of roasted goodness.
My memories of chestnuts are not from Christmas songs but of my late grandmother. Her face would always light up whenever we brought a bag of freshly roasted chestnuts home. She would peel the shells carefully, revealing a golden treasure inside. I would watch her savour each piece like it was caviar on a silver spoon. My nose would crinkle whenever she offered me one. I found it odd that a nut could taste like a slightly meaty sweet potato.
Hearing the words ‘gao lak’ are whispers of the past now. There are few of these pushcarts left in Singapore (if you do find them, it’s probably illegal). And yet, if you walk into a chic patisserie down a gentrified street, you’ll find an intricate Mont-Blanc sitting in full chestnut splendour. Delicate noodles of pure chestnut paste enveloping fluffy whipped cream on top of a golden brown biscuit. If you’re lucky, there might be a marron glacé, a chestnut candied and glazed with sugar syrup hidden within.
With intricate details and commanding precision, French pastries are notoriously challenging. It’s art and science in a delicious hug. I’ve long concluded that I would never foray into the world of Pâtisserie. Learning how to pipe or cook corn starch off already gives me anxiety. Making a Paris Brest would only cause a mental breakdown.
My only way to add a touch of French flair was to blanket the simple loaf with strands of chestnut vermicelli. It’s like placing a beautiful vase of hand-picked flowers on a plain wooden table. A drop of honey in a cup of bitter tea. A sparkle of sunshine on a dreary winter day. And no one can ever say no to more chestnut.
I’m older now and have learnt to appreciate the flavours of this little treasure. My grandmother might not be around but I’m sure her face would light up if I served her this cake.
Chestnut Loaf Cake with Mont-Blanc Vermicelli (Cake Infiniment Marron)
Some things are better when you wait. Cheese, wine, and even meat require the process of ageing to fully develop. Ageing cakes might not be typical but this loaf benefits from some rest for about one or two days. The flavour of chestnuts will have the time to slowly mellow. Each bite will be an explosion of this plump nut.
Adapted from Pierre Hermé
Makes 2 small loaves (14cm x 8cm)
Takes about 1 hour
Notes
The ingredients for this cake can be quite pricey, depending on where you are. If you can’t get chestnut flour, replace it with plain flour instead. I used Clement Faugier for the cream, paste, pureé and whole chestnuts, and Corsiglia for the flour.
You can make your own marron glacé if you’re feeling ambitious.
Make sure all the ingredients are at room temperature (about 21°C to 23°C).
If you do not own 14cm x 8cm moulds, you can use the recipe with a standard loaf mould. It will come up slightly short though.
Ingredients
For the cakes
120g unsalted butter, melted and cooled
50g caster sugar
3 eggs
225g chestnut cream
½ tsp kosher salt
100g plain flour (T55 / Type 550)
50g chestnut flour
1 tsp baking powder
90g candied chestnuts
For the rum syrup
150g mineral water
60g caster sugar
20g dark rum
For the Mont-Blanc vermicelli
125g chestnut paste
275g chestnut pureé
125g chestnut cream
8g dark rum
Directions
Preheat oven to 180°C. Grease your cake moulds generously with butter and flour on all sides. Remember to tap out the excess flour.
Drain and pass the candied chestnuts under warm water to remove excess syrup. Break them into smaller fragments and coat them with 15g of plain flour. This prevents the chestnut pieces from sinking to the bottom of the cake.
Sift and whisk the remaining plain flour with the chestnut flour and baking powder.
Using a stand mixer with a whisk attachment, mix the eggs, sugar and chestnut cream on medium speed until fully incorporated. Add the melted butter and salt, continue mixing until you get a smooth batter.
Decrease the speed to low and then add 2/3 of the flour mixture to the batter. When most have been incorporated, use a rubber spatula to fold the rest of the flour mixture and the coated candied chestnut fragments in gently.
Divide the batter into the two moulds and bake for 10 minutes. Lower the temperature to 160°C and bake for another 40 minutes.
While the cakes are in the oven, make the rum syrup. In a small saucepan over medium heat, bring water and sugar to a boil. Remove from heat and add the rum, stirring until you get a golden brown liquid.
Use a toothpick or a cake tester to check for doneness. Remove the cakes from the moulds immediately and transfer them onto a wire rack to cool.
Using a toothpick, poke holes on the top of the loaves. While they are still warm, use a pastry brush to soak the cakes with the rum syrup on all sides. Allow the cakes to cool completely before wrapping them up in clingfilm.
Store the cakes in the refrigerator for one or two days.
Before serving the cake, make the Mont-Blanc vermicelli. Using the stand mixer with the paddle attachment, beat all the ingredients together until you get a smooth paste.
Transfer the paste into a piping bag with a Mont-Blanc piping tip.
Cover the top of loaves with a mountain of vermicelli. Lastly, decorate with some candied chestnut halves.
Serve with a cup of hot coffee.