Gluten-Free Orange & Almond Cake

by Dr. Handsome B. Wonderful Esq. // April 1 2009

I believe it was General George S. Patton who said, “Men who don’t eat gluten are a bunch of goddamn communists.” Then again, Patton could be kind of a dick, so that’s probably not worth much at all.

Friends, it’s a sad truth that we live in a world of intolerance. Some of it’s borne from ignorance and mistrust. Some arises from a poor upbringing. Some presents as an irrational hatred for people who use the word “flavourful.” But the most insidious of all is a beast that lurks within an unlucky few, that forges in their hearts and digestive systems an intolerance of that beautiful, innocent wonder known as gluten. Yes, the ultimate horror that is…coeliac disease.*

(* No, you didn’t pronounce it correctly. Try again. No, that’s still not right.)

You see, these sorts of people aren’t like you and I gluten enthusiasts. No, they can’t enjoy the simple pleasures of your average cake without experiencing all manner of discomfort, the likes of which don’t bear repeating here.*

(* But, y’know, the poops and stuff.)

Despite the difficulties they face, people with coeliac disease seem quite… nice. Frustratingly, inexplicably so. Those of us without the affliction can only imagine the sheer crushing weight of despair we’d feel smothering our every thought and action when faced with the ultimate horror of eternal gluten denial, and yet they’re…cheerful.

Maybe their familiarity with a life of extraordinary hardship renders them capable of dealing with others with an equally extraordinary degree of sensitivity. I’m not sure. But needless to say, their stalwart and good-natured struggle through life in the face of interminable melancholy surely earns them a review from which even they might benefit. So this week we make the ultimate sacrifice. This week, we review a gluten-free cake.

Gluten-Free Orange & Almond Cake
Cake Classes: gluten-denied, citrus, nut, mattress foam
Price: $5.50

Construction, Texture, and Structural Integrity

To all outward appearances, the cake appears pretty much normal. It’s even somewhat attractive, on par with an above-average carrot cake. It presents as a two-layer cake of a yellow-beige shade, coated with an appropriate serving of citrus icing and a small amount of orange rind. Sliced almonds complete the picture, being set into the rear-facing elevation.

Gluten, though, is a bit like the Force.* It’s almost-imperceptible, yet somehow plays an all-important role in binding things together. In its absence, the cake was rather prone to a process of “encrumbening,” by which it began to disintegrate and scatter itself across the plate in an awkward and slovenly manner.

(* The distaste you’re feeling at that reference is much the same feeling a coeliac sufferer experiences after eating a gluten-laden meal. This interactive element reflects the level of excellence for which The Cake Review continually strives.)

An initial bite revealed a rather typical, if even commendable sponge-like texture. But after a number of thoughtful chews, the cake underwent a bizarre transmogrification. Now it resembled nothing more than a nice piece of stewed mattress foam. I can only assume this was some sort of elaborate ruse on the part of the cake to ensnare unsuspecting diners and then spring on them an ordeal so unsettling that they’d never want to try cake again. Very sneaky, cake. I imagine the military will wish to study this phenomenon in the interests of developing better systems of camouflage and subterfuge.

Taste

One bright speck of hope for the gluten intolerant is that icing generally doesn’t contain any gluten. The icing on this cake, therefore, was really no different to that you would expect to find on an orthodox slice, and was quite enjoyable: sweet, but not sickly. The cake itself, however, was a different story.

Just as it lost its once-agreeable texture, the citrus taste of the cake seemed to disappear as well, leaving one with a confusing feeling of mournful wanting. I speculate the flavour elements perceived the alarming decline in the quality of the texture component and high-tailed it the hell outta there before they could become associated with that disaster.

Extras

No extras were offered at all. Cream or yoghurt might have tempered the mattress foam issue somewhat, but none was forthcoming. The reviewer even had to secure a dining implement for himself. This will not stand!

Novelty Value

Hooray! I’m not eating gluten! Sure, I could be not eating gluten by playing squash, building a sandcastle, marching through Poland, or doing, y’know, anything that doesn’t involve eating gluten, but here I’m undertaking a very deliberate action with the specific intention of not eating gluten. So if you’re not used to not eating gluten, then not eating gluten is undoubtedly a very novel experience.

Concluding Thoughts

Well, if you’re coeliac-ridden or otherwise gluten intolerant, then this sort of thing is probably your best hope to get a cake fix. For everyone else, you’re better off steering clear. And if you ever come across someone with a gluten intolerance, hug them. They’re doomed to live such a truly awful existence that they deserve anything they can get to brighten their days.

But I can envision a day, friends, a bright day when we are not haunted by the shadow of gluten intolerance. A day when coeliac-stricken souls are liberated from their oppressive prison, free to embrace the vast cornucopia of opportunity the rest of us so sadly take for granted. A day when we may all stand fast as a people united in our shared enjoyment of cake, and the only limits to the glory of our full potential are the bounds of our collective imagination. Where no one is pained by afflictions of biological inconvenience, where no one is excluded from living the life they truly wish to live, and, yes, where no one has to face that sorry and unacceptable state in which they are denied the simple and beautiful right… to eat the cake.

Though not people with nut allergies. Bunch of goddamn communists.