The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 3307

Genoese Cake—Light

Genoise Legere

Put twelve whole eggs and eight yolks into a basin with one pound of sugar, a part of it being flavored with vanilla (No. 179); beat together vigorously for twenty minutes on slow fire, barely heating the preparation, and when well beaten and very light mix in lightly one pound of sifted flour, using a small skimmer or spoon, then half a pound of melted fresh butter added a little at a time. Butter lightly a pan twelve inches long by seven and a half wide and two inches deep; glaze it with flour and sugar, half and half, well mixed together and sifted through a sieve. Fill the pan three-quarters full with the preparation, lay it in a baking pan and place it in a slack oven to bake for forty-five to fifty minutes. As soon as the cake is done, remove and unmold it on a wire grate to get cold; afterward cover it lightly with well-reduced peach or apricot jam (No. 3675) and ice over with water icing flavored with vanilla (No. 102); place for an instant at the entrance of the oven to dry the icing; allow to cool; cut the Genoese cake into oblong pieces and serve.

This cake can also be made in a round mold and iced exactly the same, decorating the top with candied fruits; dress on a round plate ornamented with lace paper.

For the Modern Kitchen

A full-sized genoise batter, built on the warm whole-egg foam rather than on chemical leavening. Ranhofer's cross-references send you elsewhere in the book for the vanilla sugar, apricot glaze and icing; the notes below cover what those are and where the batter can fail.

A Little History

Génoise takes its name from Genoa, and the pastry trade has long credited its arrival in France to Genoese confectioners working there, though the attribution is traditional rather than documented. What defines it is the method rather than the city: whole eggs warmed with sugar and whipped to a foam that carries the whole cake, with flour and butter folded in at the end and no yeast, soda or baking powder anywhere. That makes it the workhorse batter of the classical pastry kitchen — sturdy enough to slice, split, soak in syrup and ice. Charles Ranhofer, who ran the kitchens at Delmonico's in New York and published The Epicurean in 1894, files it here among the small cakes for entremets, the sweet course that came before dessert proper: baked in a slab, glazed, iced, and cut into fingers so that a plate of them could be dressed on lace paper and set out with the rest.