Orange Syrup & Coconut Tart
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– PRINT RECIPE –
Sometimes, in the deepest and darkest tenements of the night, hope-addled dreams of half remembered losses and haunting agonies stab my sleep. Invariably, these narrow and twisted nights devolve into very early mornings drowned with cold and damp. Mornings where our malignant twilight conceals tenuous recollections and a grim, haloed darkness creeping along the cobbled subways of my heart. It is then, naked in the light of day, that I turn to this recipe: a piercing balm for restless souls and cancerous hearts, all shrouded in echoing silence.
My adoration for citrus fruit, particularly oranges, clementines and lemons, stretch down unbroken into the deepest basement levels of my memory. Some of my earliest citrus recollections revolve around my maternal grandfather, Oupa Piet (Gramps Pete), and his inordinate fondness for Lemoenbrood (orange tea loaf). As exceedingly devout and conservative as he was, he would’ve merrily bartered his soul for a well baked Lemoenbroodjie. Those dense, ancient-amber yellow slices with their speckled, cinnamon-brown crusts and the perpetually present cups of sweet, milky tea are still vivid in my mind. Youthful innocence convinced me the speckling was a homey, benevolent effect woven of the enchantment of her battle scarred Ellis De Luxe’s elderly, wood burning oven.
Tea in Gran’s cosy kitchen
was usually a relaxed, informal affair, but it was always served in the
kitchen’s well used, cornflower-blue melamine cups and saucers. Mugs, saucer-less
cups or tumblers (heaven help you) were not tolerated. Certain standards were
inflexible and immutable. Therefore the cramped kitchen table by the scullery
door was always overlaid with a blue and white, checkered vinyl table cloth
scrub-faded with continuous use. This prim and proper altar to milky tea was devoutly
attended to by the scuffed harem of four sagging, Delft blue melamine &
chrome chairs. Thus the stage was set in my very young mind for kitchen tea to become
Blue Tea.
Only many decades later
did I realize the magical Lemoenbrood
was in fact orange flavoured pound cake. Deflating the magic of the
recollection somewhat, Gran would in later years admit she frequently substituted
orange essence for grated orange peel and fresh juice when she was pressed for
time or disgruntled with Gramps. Much later on, through embarrassing personal
experience, I learnt that the crust’s quaint and well loved speckling was a
side effect of her impatient use of granulated sugar and subsequent failure to
beat the sugar sufficiently with the butter and eggs to allow it to fully
dissolve. So much for my belief in the enchantment of that austere old Ellis De
Luxe. C’est la vie ...
In due course the
affectations of early adolescence baffled at an aunt’s demanding insistence on
weak and watery Ceylon tea, always black and always with a hefty slice of lemon
(preferably with the pips still intact) sunk in the garrulous deeps of her
delicate, one white China cups. Still later, during the late 70’s, the country
went through a molded, refrigerated dessert craze where flavoured whipped cream
was set with gelatin or jelly and containing various other ingredients. What
frequently appeared to be wholesome and promising at first, regularly turned
out to be travesties varying in magnitude with the levels of ineptness exhibited
by their over-ambitious cooks. The orange themed examples were universally congealed
horrors of marmalade, preserved citrus peel or sometimes even boiled and pulped
oranges. Dread and disgusting things they all were ...
My authoritarian father
was immensely fond of oranges and clementines in particular. His return from
the fresh produce market, box or bag of either in hand, invariably anticipated transient
spells of good cheer for us, his family. Specifically clementines alleviated
his generally reticent and often austere temperament. His mother, my paternal grandmother, was an imposing woman and an extraordinary cook who’s cooking is still fondly remembered (and frequently wished for) by our
family three decades after her passing. She sometimes prepared a baked orange dessert
– always served at scalding heat – that formed a thick, luscious custard
underneath an airy, intensely orange flavoured cake with a crisp, light-brown
crust. The hot, stiff custard of her Orange Surprise Pudding was an extravagant
study in pure, rampant luxury and orange-ness. Small wonder Dad was so fond of
oranges and clementines. Apparently I am the sum of my father’s scars, both the
lofty and the hidden.
Melancholy and I have
always had a dappled, inconsistent relationship varying from fitful intimacy to
sporadic whispers of desultory familiarity. When despondency is close and
silence falls like pernicious raindrops, Orange becomes the neon avatar that
reaches out to console the inner, unutterable essence and eclipse the deadening
shades of evening.
Flavour-wise the simplicity
of this recipe underlines the bedazzling incandescence of orange that near divinely
pierces the gloom preceding the Following Dark, returning hushed fortitude to my
soul’s forgotten cellars and reaching out to stay the addictive allure of
blithely toppling into the abyss.
Hello darkness my old friend
Orange’ve come to thwart you again ...
Orange’ve come to thwart you again ...
Utilizing the trinity of
grated orange peel, fresh orange juice and orange essence, we make full use of
the breadth of orange’s bold flavour profile. Interestingly, fresh orange juice
tastes distinctly different from orange peel. Complicating matters further, the
taste and – to some extent – flavour of freshly squeezed orange juice
deteriorate rapidly, developing an astringent, flattish character from
enzymatic action and partly due to the insolence of our old friend, oxygen. The
effort of freshly squeezed orange juice therefore comes highly recommended for
this recipe.
So too does the degree of
fineness of the grated orange peel play a very important role: the finer the
better. The essential oils and terpenoid flavour components are generally not
water soluble, being stored in distinct pyriform bodies in the rind (or
flavedo) of the orange fruit. The finer the rind is grated, or zested, the
larger the resulting surface area that is exposed to the internal heat of the
baking tart, allowing a significantly higher percentage of the volatile
essential oils and terpenoids to permeate into and throughout the baking cake.
Invest in the finest (and highest quality) microplane grater you can find.
Their uses around the kitchen are legion anyway.
The efficacy of microplane
graters – which cut and slice with a myriad of near microscopic blades on the
micro scale – far exceed that of box graters and zesters which are essentially
rasps that tear and shred instead. Rasping, or zesting, destroys uncountable numbers of pyriform bodies in the rind, thus
wasting excessive quantities of the volatile flavour components required to
heighten and extend the intensity of the final product’s taste, flavour and
aroma.
To counter the volatility
of the freshly grated rind’s flavour compounds, we use orange essence to boost
and extend the flavour compound reservoir inside the baking cake, ensuring a
radiantly flavourfull and tasty end product.
Toasted coconut, with its
tropical siren seductiveness, contributes a somewhat mischievous depth and pervasive
reach to the overall flavour profile, tempering the single minded intensity of
Orange. Orange and coconut, similar to orange and dates,
have an ingrained mutual affinity that contradicts the glaring dissimilarity of
the respective fruits and nuts. Toasted coconut
flakes lend a delightful and intriguing texture contrast to the dense texture
of the final, syrup inundated tart. For them of the Squeamish Tribe: omit the
flakes and double the quantity of desiccated coconut.
Those whose mouths pay
attention will have noticed that principle mango and pineapple flavours
craftily hide in the general hurly-burly that is orange. Tropical mango,
pineapple and the weighty, guileless sweetness of coconut are of course sublime
taste combinations worthy of any throng of Olympian divinities. Small wonder
then that orange and coconut perform so well together as well.
Toasting coconut to draw
out its musky nuttiness elevates an already superb partnership with orange into
the realm of the ecstatic lightness of being. This ambrosial state of affairs
change dramatically for the worse when orange and coconut are paired as equals,
taste intensity wise. Ultimate happiness in this marriage results from
enforcing glaring inequality. Coconut has to be secondary to orange or vice
versa, else the very fabric of this universe may be torn asunder.
 |
| Coriander seed, Black Pepper & Nutmeg |
 |
Coriander Seed
|
Nutmeg, with its warmly
woody and gently exotic bitterness also assists in offsetting the indolent
richness of coconut and prevents it from dragging the entire works down into
lackluster ignominy. Nutmeg also pairs very well with orange, bringing a hint
of far-flung mystery to the proceedings.
 |
| Juniper Berries & Powder |
The enlivening freshness of juniper (the only edible spic from a conifer) also assists in cutting through the fattiness; it adds a flowery aspect that adds an extra layer to the overall flavour profile. Gin & orange is of course a staid and reliable old battle charger twice as old as the mountains. Ground cardamom can be successfully substituted for juniper to introduce a flowery, exotic element that playfully gambols through the outer reaches of the final, overall flavour profile.
And black pepper, dear old
black pepper! What can be said any further of black pepper except that it is as
indispensable as water is to any goldfish.
As the tart is based on an
oil cake infused with a seemingly excessive volume of orange syrup, the final
texture is fairly dense and very moist. This makes the tart equally at home on any
tea table offering Blue Tea, or in a pudding bowl at the end of a well conducted
lunch. Serve the tart along with strong Earl Grey tea and lightly sweetened,
vanilla flavoured whipped cream as the central highlight to any afternoon tea
party, or serve it as a dessert treat with homemade crème Anglaise infused with
a touch cinnamon and accompanied by a dash of preserved kumquats on the side.
Orange Syrup and Coconut
Tart: Et in Arcadia ego
ORANGE SYRUP & COCONUT TART
– PRINT RECIPE –
Recipe yields:
10 Portions
|
Preparation time:
± 15 Minutes
|
Baking time:
30 Minutes
|
Difficulty level:
Easy
|
Special Equipment Required:
1
x 23cm Porcelain tart baking dish
1
x Electrical hand beaters
1
x Long tined fork
Ingredients:
For the cake:
|
|
Eggs, X/L
|
2
|
Caster sugar
|
100g
|
Fresh orange peel, finely
grated
|
45ml
|
Orange essence
|
2.5ml
|
Ground coriander
|
± 3ml
|
Salt
|
± 2ml
|
Fine black pepper,
commercial type
|
± ½ml
|
Grated nutmeg
|
± ½ml
|
Optional:
|
|
Ground, dried juniper
berries
|
2.5ml
|
Cake flour
|
175g
|
Baking powder
|
7.5ml
|
15g
|
|
15g
|
|
Hot water
|
145ml
|
Sunflower oil
|
75ml
|
For the syrup:
|
|
Fresh orange juice
|
250ml
|
Brown sugar
|
70g
|
Water
|
125ml
|
Fresh orange peel, finely
grated
|
15ml
|
Method:
For the cake:
- Thoroughly spray the baking dish with non-stick food spray or generously apply molten butter to grease the dish. It is not necessary to dust the sprayed or greased dish with cake flour.
- Combine the eggs, sugar, orange peel and essence, salt and spices in a large mixing bowl. Beat together until the mixture becomes thick and creamy, 5 - 6 minutes.
- Combine the flour and baking powder. Sieve together twice to thoroughly combine. Add the desiccated and flaked coconut and stir through with a metal spoon.
- Whisk the hot water and oil vigorously together to combine.
- Add half of the flour and half of the mixed water and oil to the whipped egg & sugar mixture. Using a large spatula or metal spoon, fold the flour and water / oil mixture in with figure 8 motions until just combined. Add the remaining flour and water / oil mixture and repeat. Do not over mix the batter or the cake will be stodge-like and oily. The batter will appear lumpy and incompletely mixed, this is in order.
- Scrape the runny batter into the baking dish, level the surface and thump the dish 2 – 3 times on the working surface to let any bubbles escape.
- Bake in a preheated, 165°C convection oven for 30 minutes. If using a normal, static oven: bake at 180°C for 35 – 40 minutes. Use a bamboo skewer to confirm that the cake is fully baked in the center.
- Use the fork to evenly pierce the surface of the hot cake all over immediately as it comes from the oven.
- Carefully pour the hot syrup slowly and evenly over the hot cake to allow it to be fully absorbed. The volume of syrup will appear to be excessive. Use the fork, or a narrow spatula, to gently pull the edges of the tart away from the baking dish at regular intervals to allow the excess syrup access to the bottom of the tart for full syrup absorption.
- Allow to cool to room temperature and decorate with preserved orange slices, glace cherries and strips of orange zest soaked for 30 minutes in cold water.
For the syrup:
- Mix all the ingredients together in a small saucepan.
- Heat over medium high heat until boiling. Stir often to dissolve the sugar.
- Carefully pour the very hot syrup evenly over the pierced, hot cake.
- Use a skewer against the lip of the saucepan to guide the pouring syrup and prevent runoff or spillage.
Comments:
- If dried juniper berries are unobtainable, replace 80ml of water in the syrup with dry gin.
- Allow the undecorated tart to rest for one day at room temperature to allow all the flavours to fully mature.
© RS Young,
2019
Sources:
1.
THE FLAVOUR THESAURUS; Segint, Niki, Bloomsbury Publishing; London; 2010.
2.
McGEE ON FOOD & COOKING, An Encyclopedia of Kitchen Science, History and
Culture; McGee, Harold; Hodder & Stoughton; London; 2004.
3.
Fruit Anatomy: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fruit_anatomy; Retrieved on
22/07/2019.
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Note:
Post updated on 2025.01.19 to include:
1.
The updated Recipe for downloading as a PDF file, and
2.
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