Easter Cake

"Šakotis," or, as we call it, "Baumkuchenas," is a traditional, Lithuanian Easter cake.

When I was growing up, Lithuanian bakeries in Chicago prepared the moist cake over a rotissiere, open flame. The chef poured ladles of batter onto a spit as the cake circled the flame. The dripping batter produced the "branches," or "šakos," of the cake as it baked.

Today, most Šakotis cakes arrive as plastic-wrapped imports from Lithuania. Although tasty, the imports tend to be dry: many break apart into parched pieces when you bite into a slice. It's possible to make a decent Baumkuchenas at home. I've had good luck with a recipe that calls for baking the cake, in sequential layers in a springform pan, under a broiler. The recipe appears in this this old gem. A Baumkuchenas prepared in a springform pan won't have the dazzling "branches," but the flavor is genuine.

Suburban Chicago, Easter, April 1966. My paternal Grandmother, Tatjana, slices the Baumkuchenas. I also see a decanter and cordials filled with Tatjana's citrus-flavored milk liqueur.

A 1934 Easter setting from Mr. Irene's side of the family features no Baumkuchenas, but there are Lithuanian Easter Eggs, "Margučiai," on the table.

(Oh! A non-Easter note: Mr. Irene and I served morsels of Baumkuchenas as part of the dessert table at our wedding reception.)

Make one at home.

I started baking in the early 1970s. I don't recall what sparked my interest, but I grew curious about trying new recipes. My paternal Grandmother, Tatjana, did not venture much beyond her own repertoire. My Mom worked full time, so she never cooked, and she only occasionally baked for the holidays. We also had few cookbooks. Besides the 1956 edition of the Betty Crocker Picture Book, I remember the German-language edition of this book, and a copy of European Desserts for American Kitchens.

I started experimenting with some of the recipes in European Desserts for American Kitchens. I first made a Dobos Torte, and then I moved on to a dessert—Crepes Saint Martin—that featured a delicious, rice-pudding-like filling. I finally saw that the book contained a recipe for one of the "triple crowns" of Lithuanian baking: "Baumkuchenas" (the other two "crowns" would be "Napoleonas" and Nut Torte ... at least at our house).

A homemade Baumkuchenas, of course, would not feature the typical "branches" or dough spikes created by baking the cake on a turning rotisserie over an open flame. If  you want a Baumkuchenas with the typical appearance, then order one (the mail-order cakes are quite good). The recipe in European Desserts for American Kitchens, however, tastes almost identical to the traditional, branched cake, and I've been making it since 1972. A few years had passed since I made one, so yesterday I got ambitious.

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Here's how I adapted the recipe:

Baumkuchenas

1-1/2 cups (7.2 ounces) potato or cornstarch
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons (8.4 ounces) granulated sugar
9 egg whites, room temperature
1/2 teaspoon cream of tartar
1/4 teaspoon table salt
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature
9 egg yolks, room temperature
1-1/2 teaspoon grated lemon rind
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

3/4 cup powdered sugar
1-1/2 tablespoons freshly-squeeze lemon juice


Adjust the oven rack to about six inches below the broiler element. Preheat the oven—on the broiler setting—to 475 degrees. Line the bottom of a 9-inch springform pan with parchment paper. Grease the parchment paper and the sides of the springform pan with butter. Dust the pan with flour and shake out the excess.

Sift the potato or cornstarch and set aside.

In the large bowl of an electric mixer, with the whisk attachment, begin mixing the egg whites, cream of tartar, and salt and low to medium speed until the egg whites begin to get foamy. Gradually increase the speed to medium-high and then high. While beating, add about 4 tablespoons of the granulated sugar to the egg whites. Continue beating until the meringue is stiff and holds its shape. Set the bowl with the meringue aside.

In another bowl of the electric mixer, with the paddle attachment, cream the butter and the remaining sugar. This should take about 5 to 6 minutes, and the mixture should be very light and pale in color. Add the egg yolks, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Mix in the lemon rind and the vanilla extract.

On low speed (or by hand, using a spatula), mix in about one-third of the potato starch. Gently fold in half the meringue. Then, add one-half of the remaining potato starch and the rest of the meringue. Finally, fold in the remainder of the potato starch.

Before beginning to bake, place the bowl with the batter, a trivet, and a large spoon or ladle near the oven. Using the spoon or ladle (or a small, offset spatula), spread about 1/4 cup of the batter in the bottom of the prepared pan. Place in the preheated oven and bake until the layer is lightly browned. The first layer may take about 2-1/2 to 3 minutes. When the first layer is done, remove the pan from the oven, set it on the trivet, and spread another 1/4 cup batter over the first layer. Continue in this manner until you have used up all of the batter. In our oven, the layers take about 2 to 2-1/2 minutes each, and you should end up with about 14 or 15 layers. The baking process is tedious.

Remove the cake from the oven and let it rest, in the pan, on a wire rack for about one hour. Run a knife around the sides of the pan and remove the springform. Let the cake rest until it is completely cool, about two hours.

Before serving, whisk together the powdered sugar and lemon juice and spread it on top of the cake.

How to make a "Šakotis," or, as we call it, "Baumkuchenas."

The "Šakotis" is a traditional celebration cake.

Here's a video showing its creation.

The Buffet Table

Toronto, Ontario, Canada, Spring 1961. My Toronto Cousin poses with her stylish, older cousin. It looks like the buffet is set for Easter because a baumkuchenas is on the table.
 
Thanks to my Toronto Cousin for making this photo available to us.

Customs

When I was growing up, I learned about holiday customs. Lithuanians, for example, celebrate Christmas on the night of Christmas Eve ("Kūčios"). The Kūčios meal consists of twelve meatless dishes, one to represent each of the Apostles. All of the foods are cold dishes so that the hostess does not have to cook on such a solemn day. On Christmas Eve, we primarily eat vegetable salads, gefilte fish, and marinated herrings. Lots of herring: herring is served at least four ways.

Enforcement of these traditions is inflexible. During one memorable Christmas Eve, we had a guest who did not eat fish. Cold fish therefore was out of the question. My Mom roasted and served a duck. My Dad spit bullets about the breach of Kūčios protocol. Even now, over thirty years later, my Mom usually says on Kūčios, "Do you remember when I roasted a duck on Kūčios?!!" as if that were a really screwball, Lucille Ball-like, thing to do.

Today, rigid food-pairing rules still affect daily meals. For example, if one is serving meatloaf ("Zuikis"), it's not appropriate to offer peas or carrots alongside it. The traditional side dish for meatloaf is a bowl of hot, shredded beets spiked with vinegar and macerated in sour cream. Roast duck is stuffed with apples and served with hot, braised sauerkraut. Roast turkey is stuffed not with stuffing but with prunes—or as they say today, "dried plums." A sauté of cabbage, bacon, and onions must be served with potatoes; never rice. Cold Beet Soup arrives with a side of a hot, peeled, boiled potato sprinkled with fresh dill.

There are also unbending seasonal rules. A "winter salad" consisting of navy beans and beets would never include a spring or summer ingredient, like peas, carrots, or dill. A "spring salad"—similar to the Italian Insalata Russa or the Russian Salat Olivier—would not feature a winter ingredient, like a dill pickle, an apple, or beans.

Strict food rules make the timing of this photo easy to identify. The food on the table tells me that this is an image of Easter dinner. Cooked young birds, veal, and a "Tree Cake" ("Šakotis" or, in parts of Lithuania, "Baumkuchenas") all say "Spring."

The clock in the photo reads 9:00. It looks like it is dark outside. Can the family be eating late? Or is it morning? Mr. Irene thinks it's a mid-day meal for a family that might have attended a Resurrection Mass. Or is the clock broken?

Whose portrait hangs on the wall?

It must have been a rather warm spring day because a window is open.

Some things in this image are familiar. The curtains mimic the sleeves of Lithuanian folkdress blouses: linen with woven, decorative sashes running in horizontal lines. Even though the photo is black and white, the potted primroses on the table might as well be fuchsia with yellow eyes. I look at the edge of the tablecloth and think that it, too, is certainly linen because it looks like someone had trouble ironing it.

Thanks to my "New" Cousin for making this photo available to me in digital format.

Tauragė, Lithuania, probably about 1935 or so. This is the family of my paternal Grandfather, Jake. Jake sits, in uniform, on the far right. To his right is his mother (my Great-Grandmother, Wanda), and behind him are his brother and sister. Jake's niece and brother-in-law stand next to his sister. Seated on the left are Jake's nephew and his father (my Great-Grandfather, Cody Sr.).

Related by Marriage: Behind the Iron Curtain

In 1978, Mr. Irene's maternal Aunt, Martha, and her husband, Wally, treated Mr. Irene to a trip to Soviet-occupied Lithuania. The state forbad families from hosting foreigners in their homes, so Mr. Irene's relatives connected with the visitors in hotels and restaurants. The spaces were wired, of course, so Mr. Irene learned quickly to watch his words.

Vilnius, Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic, 1978. Mr. Irene's relatives join their visitors at a restaurant. There's a Šakotis (or a "Baumkuchenas," as we called it) on the table. Mr. Irene is the fellow wearing glasses, and that's Wally holding him.

Wedding Cake

Toronto, Ontario, Canada, January 1978. A traditional Lithuanian wedding cake, a "Šakotis," (or a "Baumkuchenas," as we called it), graces the sweets table at the wedding of my Toronto Cousin and her husband, Toronto Al. Traditional, Lithuanian woven sashes decorate the wall and table.

This is the biggest Šakotis that I have seen.

Thanks to my Toronto Cousin for making this photo available to us.