These innocuous-looking, yet intoxicating little cakes have fallen as far out of favour in the UK as their fellow stalwart of the 70s sweet trolley, the black forest gateau, though happily they’re still easy to find in their native France, where they often come with a bonus shot of rum on the side.
Often attributed to Stanislas, an 18th-century duke of Lorraine and one-time king of Poland also credited with inventing the madeleine and the macaron on similarly scanty evidence, babas seem to be an evolution of the Alsatian kugelhof, made with a similar, rich, yeasted dough and then soaked in alcohol before serving. Stanislas, it seems, found the original too dry: the baba is anything but, and I regret its disappearance from menus in favour of fancier desserts – as the legendary chef Pierre Koffmann says, “These individual little boozy cakes make a fine and elegant finale to a meal.” Handily for the home cook, they’re even better baked a few days ahead, giving them maximum time to soak up all that rum.
The dough
Niki Segnit describes baba in Lateral Cooking as the point where “dough becomes batter” – Koffmann’s little cakes are, in fact, enriched breads, made from yeasted, emphatically savoury dough. Those with a higher proportion of fat in the form of butter and eggs to flour, such as the babas in Larousse Gastronomique, the Leiths Baking Bible and Anne Willan’s French Regional Cooking, tend to have a closer, softer texture, more like an unsweetened sponge cake. Michelin-starred chef Anne-Sophie Pic , who uses half the amount of butter, achieves a more honeycomb consistency – almost, in places, like a crumpet.
Once soaked in rum syrup, all are, of course, delicious, but the looser the structure, the more of this is able to be absorbed, and the lighter the overall result. For that reason. I’m going to err on the plainer side of things, and, like Larousse, go for strong bread flour, rather than ordinary, or Koffmann’s soft cake flour, to help on the open crumb front (Koffmann specifies French T45 , but that proves thin on the ground amidst the jumble of spelt and brown rice varieties in my local supermarket).
Pic and Leiths use milk rather than water in their doughs, but I don’t think it makes much difference to flavour or texture; the principal taste, before soaking, ought be that of butter and just a hint of salt, which stops the end product from being overwhelmingly sweet.
As a descendant of the kugelhof, it makes sense that babas would originally have been much larger than the individual portions common today. Many of the recipes suggest they can also be made in a bigger mould, and I take Leiths up on this by baking its version in a decorative bundt tin. Though it looks impressive, I would caution against doing the same, for the simple reason that it’s much harder to immerse such a thing fully in syrup, so it runs the risk of being rather dry.
The fruit controversy
You can flavour the cakes with citrus zest, as Leiths does, but more common, if controversial, is the addition of dried fruit, usually soaked in rum – Willan chooses currants, Larousse raisins. Such things, as any ice-cream aficionado can attest, pair extremely well with rum, but to my mind, they add too much to the overall sweetness of this dish; if I were going to gild this particular lily with anything, it would involve a contrasting flavour, such as sour cherries or bitter candied peel ... but I’m not, because I like the simplicity of the dish without them. If you have a particular yearning for fruit, I’d recommend serving it alongside in the form of fresh berries, or indeed the candied pineapple Koffmann favours.
The syrup
This need be no more than sugar and water, but I think it’s sensible to make it quite strong, because reducing it risks the mixture becoming too thick for the babas to absorb. Though none of the recipes I try suggests it, I’m going to make mine with brown, rather than white sugar, because I think the flavour works well with the rum.
Strangely, most are also silent on the specifics of the booze – surely the defining characteristic of this dessert – with only a couple calling for dark rum. I do try it with golden rum, too (the blander white stuff seems a waste of time; if that’s all you have, be generous with it), but if you’re buying a bottle especially, the strong molasses note of the dark kind makes it our preference.
For a really punchy finish, instead of adding the rum to the syrup, sprinkle it over the finished cakes, as both Larousse and Leiths recommend; just don’t let anyone drive afterwards.
Pic infuses her syrup with vanilla, Koffmann adds orange and lemon peel, too, while Willan rather intriguingly goes for coriander seeds, which divide the crowd. A mixture of orange and vanilla proves more popular, but you could use cinnamon, star anise, cardamom or just about any spice that takes your fancy.
The soaking
The recipes employ a variety of techniques to get this syrup into the babas, from painting it on to the cake straight from the oven (Leiths) to adding the babas to a boiling pan (Larousse). But the most successful is Pic’s: she immerses them in cold syrup and leaves them to soak, which cuts out the slightly faffy step of tenderly turning them over and over until you judge they’ve absorbed the maximum amount of liquid.
Koffmann observes that “Babas need to be very moist … and the best way to guarantee this is to bake the cakes several days in advance and leave them to harden and go slightly stale. Like stale bread, you’ll find that they’ll be desperate to soak up the liquid.” It’s true – if you have the time, make them up to a week ahead.
Serving suggestions in the recipes I try include Pic’s chestnut sauce and vanilla cream, and Koffmann’s chantilly, but I’m not sure you need more than simple whipped cream, a shot of rum – and some fresh fruit, if you must.
Perfect rum babas
It is best to make these in medium savarin or ring moulds, though you can get by with small dariole basins or even fairy cake tins.
Prep 20 min plus proving and soaking
Cook 20 min
Serves 4
4g dried yeast
3 tsp demerara sugar
75g butter, plus extra to grease
200g strong bread flour
1 tsp fine salt
2 eggs, beaten
For the syrup
400g demerara sugar
1 vanilla pod, split
200ml dark rum
Put the yeast in a bowl with 75ml warm water and a pinch of the sugar, stir to combine. then leave until bubbly on top. Meanwhile, melt the butter and set aside, then whisk the flour, salt and remaining sugar in a large bowl or food mixer.
Mix in the yeast and half the egg, followed by the rest of the egg. Once throughly combined, gradually beat in the butter until you have a smooth batter.
Grease the moulds thoroughly with butter, and divide the batter between them, filling each hole no more than half full. Leave in a non-draughty place until the batter rises nearly to fill the moulds.
While the babas are proving, and if you’re planning to serve them imminently, make the syrup. Heat the sugar in 500ml water, then addthe vanilla pod and its seeds. Stir to dissolve the sugar, then, once it comes to a simmer, take it off the heat and set aside to cool. Heat the oven to 180C (160C fan)/350F/gas 4. When the syrup is cool, add the rum.
Bake the babas for 20-25 minutes, until golden, then leave to cool on a wire rack. Leave for several days, if possible, then immerse in the syrup and leave for two hours, turning occasionally. Drain and serve with the extra syrup in a jug on the side.
