So, parve desserts. For a long time, I kind of avoided them. Seemed like a lot of hassle, and I figured they’d just end up tasting… well, a bit sad. My go-to desserts usually involve a ton of butter or cream, you know?
My First Real Attempt
But then, I had this dinner party. A real mixed crowd, and I wanted everyone to be able to eat dessert. The main course was definitely meat, so dairy was a no-go for dessert for some of my guests. That meant I had to dive into the world of parve baking. No more procrastinating.
My first step was, naturally, a bit of panic. I flipped through my usual recipe books, and almost everything good had butter. Lots of it. So, I started looking online. Found a bunch of stuff, some sounded okay, others made me a bit skeptical. You see recipes calling for all sorts of weird substitutes, and you just wonder.
Figuring Out the Basics
The main thing I realized pretty quickly is that parve baking is all about managing your fats and liquids. You can’t just swap butter for oil cup-for-cup in every recipe and expect magic. Margarine is an option, sure. I went to the store, stared at the margarine section for a good ten minutes. So many choices, and I had no idea which one wouldn’t taste like, well, chemicals. I also had to think about non-dairy milks. Almond milk, soy milk, oat milk – it’s a whole thing. Each one behaves a bit differently.
I decided to start simple. A chocolate cake. How hard could that be? I found a recipe that used oil and coffee. Sounded plausible enough. So, I got out all my bowls and measuring cups. Pulled out the flour, sugar, cocoa powder – the usual dry stuff. Measured it all out. Then, the wet ingredients: oil (went with a neutral vegetable oil), some leftover coffee from breakfast, vanilla extract, and a splash of apple cider vinegar. The vinegar seemed odd, but the recipe insisted it was important. Who am I to argue with a recipe on my first try?
I mixed the dry ingredients together. Then I whisked the wet ingredients in a separate bowl. Then I combined them. The batter actually looked pretty normal, which was a relief. It smelled good too. I poured it into a greased and floured pan – using oil and flour for that, of course. Then, into the oven it went.
The Waiting and the Outcome
Then came the waiting. I tidied up the kitchen a bit, mostly to stop myself from peeking into the oven every two minutes. The smell of chocolate started to fill the house. That’s always a good sign, right?
Finally, the timer went off. I pulled the cake out. It looked… like a cake! It had risen nicely. I let it cool in the pan for a bit, then turned it out onto a wire rack to cool completely. This is always the hardest part, waiting for it to cool before you can frost it or, more importantly, taste it.
Once it was cool enough, I made a simple parve chocolate glaze – basically powdered sugar, cocoa powder, a bit of oil, and some hot water. Spread that on top. Then, the moment of truth. I cut a slice.
And you know what? It was actually good! Really moist, good chocolate flavor. The coffee definitely deepened the chocolate taste. It wasn’t the richest, most decadent butter-laden cake I’ve ever made, but it was a solid, enjoyable chocolate cake. And it was totally parve. Success!
Expanding the Repertoire (Sort Of)
After that, I felt a bit more confident. I tried making some parve cookies. That was a bit more of a journey. The first batch, using a margarine I picked, spread out way too much. They were more like thin, crispy puddles. Tasted okay, but not what I was going for. I had to adjust the recipe for the next batch – a bit more flour, chilled the dough for longer. That’s the thing I’m learning: parve baking often requires tweaking. You can’t just assume a standard recipe will convert perfectly with simple substitutions.
So now, I have a few parve dessert recipes in my arsenal.
- That chocolate cake is a keeper.
- The cookies are… getting there. Still a work in progress.
- I also made a decent apple crumble using oil in the topping instead of butter. That worked out pretty well from the get-go.
It’s not like I have a magical “parve-ify everything” formula. It feels more like I’m collecting individual solutions for individual dessert types. Each one needs its own approach, its own set of adjustments. It’s a bit like having a toolkit with very specialized tools, rather than one universal wrench. You figure out what works for one thing, and it might not work for another. But, bit by bit, I’m getting the hang of it. And the best part? Everyone at that dinner party got to enjoy dessert. That made all the experimenting worth it.
