Interlude: Black Forest Cake

The Schwarzwaelder Kirschtorte (SWKT occasionally abbreviated here) has always been my favorite cake – favorite dessert, perhaps – with the only rival being my Oma’s Pflaumenkuchen (plum cake -- more commonly referred to as Zwetschgenkuchen, but she pointedly called it the former, so that’s what it is to me). I can’t get my grandmother’s Pflaumenkuchen anymore. My mother sent me the recipe, and I tried to recreate it, but failed. Given that, Black Forest cake remains unchallenged in my pastry ranking list.

 It was an unspoken condition of the trip that I partake in the German tradition of Kaffee und Kuchen as often as possible – I remember Oma meeting with her local friends over coffee and cake at 3:00, daily, to chat and gossip. It’s a wonderful tradition, much more accessible than the British High Tea, or low, for that matter.

We had our initial Kaffee und Kuchen in a classic Black Forest spot, Café Schnurr, in Buehlertal, on the way back from Baden-Baden. The place looked very much like a German grandmother had decorated it, frills & doilies, and indeed, at 4:00, the clientele were decidedly authentic – local retirees set to linger over a delicious baked good.

The cafe had seven or eight cakes to choose from – interestingly, they display them with the cut side away from you, so you don’t see the inside of the cake. This means you see the pretty exterior decoration, but can’t really tell what’s going on inside. No matter, I was there for the Kirschtorte, full stop.

What was going on inside the cake was a marvel. Kirschtorte, if you’ve never had it, consist of a bottom layer of chocolate cake, topped with a layer of cherry confection (with varying levels of Kirschwasser – cherry liqueur), topped with sweetened whip cream. Cherries and chocolate shavings for garnish. You will frequently find a second layer of chocolate cake in there, too, between the whipped cream.

It can be dismal. Heavy cake + canned cherry filling + cool whip, for example, is passed off as Kirschtorte at bargain coffee shops. As a general rule, if you see it served as a rectangle, it’ll be processed, and not particularly good.

Judging by the certificates and awards that hung on the wall of the Schurr, they took great pride in their own product, and rightly so. The bottom layer of cake was light and spongey -- a serious challenge, since it must support the weight of the toppings above. The cherries had no hint of tin or gloopiness, and a mere suggestion of Kirschwasser – we had no fear of having the boys try this. The whipped cream was fresh, sweet, and airy, but with enough stiffness to hold up. There was a very thin second layer of cake, too, almost just a suggestion of cake, really. It was the best Black Forest cake I’d ever had, hands down. Oh, their other cakes were good, too (we tried a strawberry, and also an egg liqueur cake, too). But this one shone like the full moon on a clear November night. Or, towered like a gothic cathedral, light and elemental, over the squat constructions gathered to share it's space. I apologize for the silly mets. A Viking would have said, that was good cake.

I had two other SWKT’s on the trip – the next at a touristy installation by the Mummelsee (a little lake – pond, really – that’s high up in the Black Forest hills). I didn’t have high expectations, given the location, but at least this was a wedge, not a rectangle. I could see the cake they cut it from. For better or for worse, this had too much Kirsch for the boys to eat it. I usually don’t mind, but felt bad for them (we gave them a middling donut as a substitute). It was a second class version of what we’d had at Schnurr, though not bad at all.

The final version was in Colmar, of all places, near the end of the trip. This one came from a patisserie just down the street from our hotel – Gilg. These guys made macarons that were by far the best I’d ever had (until then, I really didn’t understand this cookie) – more on that in a later post. Based on their macarons, I decided it would be foolish not to try their version of a Black Forest cake.

The macaron is a decidedly Gallic confection, and Gilg put a very French take on their cake. Instead of a large slice, you get a bulb the size of a plum: everything about the cake was concentrated. Dark chocolate flavors, a dense whipped cream filling, pure cherry flavor. It was compact, sophisticated, surprising. But it had strayed too far from the Platonic ideal of the SWKT for me. Gilg called this recipe “Grandfather’s Black Forest Cake”. As has been said of Alsace – this grandfather may have spoken German, but he thought in French.