Archived Article By Tom Fitzmorris Originally published January 7, 2008 But Not Tastefully King Cake Rules My son Jude, like many other Orleanians, still bemoans the demise of McKenzie's. An unlikely member of a large group of mostly older Orleanians, he believes that McKenzie's king cake--the nearly-unadorned, un-braided, un-filled one that threatened to choke you with its dryness if you didn't have a cup of coffee nearby--was definitive. For those who read this outside New Orleans, here's why this matters enough that it must be brought up every year at this time. King cake is a ring-shaped pastry decorated with the colors of Carnival. The first (and, most traditionally, only) one is served on Twelfth Night. Inside the cake is a little plastic baby that's supposed to represent the Baby Jesus. (Some bakers use more lavish trinkets.) The person who gets the baby is in charge of getting the king cake for the next party--whether that's next year or (more likely) next week. The king cakes keep coming until Mardi Gras. King cake is, as far as I'm concerned, a preview of Lenten penance. At its very, very best, it has the appeal of a well-made cinnamon roll. It's a sweet yeast bread is all--sort of in the realm of brioche, but not exactly the same. The three bakeries I've found do it best are Gambino's and Randazzo's in their various locations, and Krummel's Mandeville Bake Shop. Those bakeries and a few others make it like their cinnamon rolls, except without the raisins. The best supermarket versions I've encountered are at Rouse's, whose king cakes are made in unusually thin layers with lots of cinnamon--a personal taste. Most king cakes are too dry, too sweet, or both. The dryness is exacerbated by the practice of keeping a king cake around for a few days after it's been cut. The sweetness is multiplied by whole-number factors when the king cake is filled. The filling is usually a variation on pastry cream, but is sometimes made with berries in goo, cinnamon and pecans in a different goo, or heavily-sweetened cream cheese. Fillings weren't so bad at first, but bakers got the idea that if a little filling was good, then a lot was even better. The last few filled king cakes I've had were gross enough to make me swear off them forever, even if it means having to lie to my family and say that there were no King cakes left at the store, if all they had were the filled jobs. Some bakers have noted the opportunities that king cakes present for creativity and improvement, and have rolled out more ambitious versions. The "galette du roi" from the northern part of France (where the whole tradition comes from in the first place) is very good: a pie-sized puff pastry filled with almond paste. Looks and tastes great, but doesn't resemble in any way the New Orleans king cake. So what can be done with that? I hatched a few ideas a few years ago, but nobody did anything about them, so here they are again: 1. King cakes with fresh fruit (instead of glop from a can). 2. Savory king cakes. They'd kind of be like pizza. It's been done widely with bread pudding, so why not this? My wife once tried to make one with a filling of spinach, garlic, and cheese, and a sprinkling of pretzel-style salt on the top. It was good, but I wonder what place it could find on the table. She's still working on it. 3. Creampuff-style king cakes, filled with flan or chocolate mousse or even ice cream. 4. A cake with a baby made in the likeness of a famous Orleanian. Fats Domino, Bienville, Joe Canizaro, Dutch Morial, Chris Owens, Louis Armstrong, Harry Connick Jr., Paul Prudhomme. . . hey! this could be fun! 5. A plain old king cake with the right amount of sugar, cinnamon, and eggs, with a crusty crust. In other words, the classic, done right. While waiting, I'll have a slice of king cake every time I see one. And today everyone should, even if you follow the original tradition and pass on it till next year. © 2007 Tom Fitzmorris. All rights reserved. news@nomenu.com