I will admit that, in general, I am kind of a health nut. It’s mostly because I was raised to think that way, and I’m sure if my mother was reading this (hi, Mom!) she’d laugh at me, but it’s true. Compared to most people, or at least Americans, I’m a very healthy eater. Lots of fruit and veggies, all-natural and organic, as few byproducts and chemicals as possible, use olive oil instead of butter, leaner cuts of meat, rarely eat red meat – the whole shebang. But if there’s one area that I completely fail at eating healthy, it’s desserts.
Partially, it’s quantity. I just have a massive sweet tooth, and it’s hard to say no to a cupcake when the only interesting thing to eat besides that is a yogurt. And, partially, it’s the fact that when I eat dessert, it’s never healthy (for a dessert), like a piece of chocolate and fruit, or a light coffee cake. No. Whatever. I’m eating dessert. I want it to be bad for me. I want it to be terrible for me. That’s why I’m eating dessert. That, and because when food is bad for you, it’s kind of delicious.
Case in point: the Blanc Manger (or Blancmange). I discovered this tasty confection last summer and instantly fell in love. It’s essentially a whipped cream gelatin, or a very, very light cheesecake. And since whipped cream and cheesecake are two of my favorite desserts, when I saw the recipe I knew I had to make it. Convincing my mother, however, was another story, because she’s one of those healthy dessert people. She’d be all “but it’s so bad for you!” and then I’d be all “but it’s dessert! It’s supposed to be! Plus, it’s got tons of calcium, and aren’t you always saying I need more calcium?” and she was all “yes, but not if you’re going to die of a coronary at the age of 45.”
I finally wore her down and made a traditional peach blanc manger last summer, and it was absolute bliss, but it was, frankly, kind of boring. I could do better. It took another year’s worth of wrangling and begging before getting my mom to give in with a giant sigh to me trying my newest blanc manger experiment, mostly because it was for after Yom Kippur and if there’s one way I can convince her to be unhealthy, it’s with the arguments of “but it’s a holiday!” and “I’m taking it to other people’s house, so I’m not going to eat all of it”.
My idea was simple — I wanted to start experimenting with spices and taking desserts to a more exotic place, and I’d set my eyes on cardamom to serve that purpose once I read that it was often used in fruit dishes in Middle Eastern cuisine. Originally I was going to pair it with figs, but I’d never worked with figs before, and so that left me a little gun shy. Instead to keep it out of the ordinary, I mixed in some cinnamon and nutmeg with the cardamom, and threw in a little espresso powder so it had a Turkish coffeehouse feel to it. (I say having never left this country for anywhere more exotic than Canada.)
A traditional blanc manger is served either out of a custard bowl or over sponge cake, and more modern ones are served over a graham cracker crust, so I tossed that aside for a ground almond crust and voila! This cake/blanc manger/not-really-a-torte-but-close-enough was a huge hit. It was delicious. And you know why it’s delicious?
It’s really, really bad for you.
Print This Recipe
Julia’s Coffee House Torte
Crust:
2 cups ground almonds
½ cup butter, softened
¼ tsp cinnamon
1 tbl sugar
Cake:
1½ cups heavy cream
¾ tsp cardamom
¼ tsp cinnamon
¼ tsp nutmeg
¾ cup whole milk
¾ cup ground almonds
½ cup sugar
1 generous tbl instant espresso powder
¼ ounce packet of gelatin
3 tablespoons cold water
2 tsp vanilla extract
Optional: Chocolate chips/shavings for garnish
I say that cardamom makes everything taste Indian… throw some cardamom in your tea and it’s chai. Throw some cardamom in your smoothie and it’s a lassi. Cardamom in the cake, it’s a… Indian cake.
I am SO WITH YOU when it comes to dessert! If the recipe involves a stick of butter and a can of condensed milk, I’m making it. My standby recipe is a flan that’s so rich I’m embarrassed to tell people the ingredients. (Is blancmange at all like flan? I always wanted to try it, ever since I read Little Women, where Jo takes some blancmange to Laurie when he’s sick.)