16 March 28 - april 3, 2024 dallasobserver.com DALLAS OBSERVER Classified | MusiC | dish | Culture | unfair Park | Contents The cake applying this chokehold is the Swiss Madrisa, a simple white sponge cov- ered in whipped cream and topped with a glossy crown of fresh fruit. And yes, many of those lingering in front of the display case on any given day are Hispanic, but that’s just one of many layers here. Daniel Dreyfus trained as a pas- try chef in his native Switzerland before immigrating to Dallas, where he met his wife, Elvira, who was from Kolsters, a village in the Swiss Alps near the mountain, Madrisa. Daniel worked at the Sheraton downtown when they met. They opened a wholesale bak- ery business in 1961 and expanded to a retail shop, then eventually a restaurant and market. Their daughter, Nicole Sand- ers, still lives in Dallas and grew up working behind the counter with a bouncing blond pigtail and wearing her soccer uniform after Saturday games. She remembers the cake being called an “assorted fruit cake” at the time and thinks that one of the two brief owners before the Winnubsts bought the spot must have anointed it Swiss Madrisa in honor of her parents. For Sanders, the enduring legacy of this cake and tradition among so many families in Dallas is, she says, “Wonder- ful.” Her father passed away when she was just 13 years old and her mother died 20 years ago — this cake is a tie to her childhood. “We had that cake at every special family occasion, too,” Sanders says of growing up. “When my daughter turned 1, we got that cake, just as my sister and I did for our first birthdays. We have pho- tos of all three of us with that cake on our first birthdays.” As for the recipe, she attributes it to her father’s experience as a baker: It’s a simple, universal and light cake with beautiful glazed fresh fruit on top. When Henk Winnubst, an original co- founder of Kuby’s Sausage House in Snider Plaza, bought the restaurant in 1991, he inherited the recipe for the Swiss Madrisa … and all its lore. In the early days, Hubertus says, they sold a few cakes a day and were able to keep pace with a small bakery in the back of the shop. “And then word just got out. I dunno,” he says with a shrug. “Slowly but surely, every year it’s been more and more.” And by more and more, he means in the neighborhood of 30,000 cakes a year. So, they added a door to an adjacent space that Whole Foods had used as a bak- ery for a while, and the cake opera got much bigger. Now eight full-time employ- ees arrive before sunrise to bake and as- semble around 700 cakes each week, which includes peeling and slicing 400 cases of kiwi and cracking 9,000 eggs. Two industrial mixers the size of R2D2 whip 60 cases of cream into sweet fluffy clouds. After each cake is baked and cooled, it’s sliced into three layers before being mar- ried back together with layers of whipped cream and fruit. The sides and top are coated with more whipped cream before each heads to the almond station, where the sides are softly patted with slivered al- monds. Next, every cake waits on a table for bak- ers to top with fruit: a ring of strawberries on the outside, then kiwi, and peaches in the center with a few more strawberries on the top. The final touch is a layer of house-made syrup giving it a glossy pop. Everyone works fast and most have been here for a while. Sisters Mary and Chayo Ga- mez have worked in the bakery for about two decades, and Juan Rodriguez has been there for 34 years. There’s conversation and a lot of laughs between them as they make these delicacies every morning, but they stay focused and moving. There’s simply too much to do. By 7 a.m. on most days, a hundred or so cakes are all dolled up and ready for cen- ter stage, wherever that may be. Some are loaded onto racks and pushed into one of three walk-in coolers, while others are set in display cases. By opening time at 8 a.m., special orders are be- ing hauled out with “Happy Anni- versary” or “Feliz Cumpleanos” written on top. These are the big two-handed cakes. By 9 a.m., most of the Swiss Madrisas are done, and the chocolate cakes start filling up the tables for the second move- ment of this opera — lest we forget the Swiss Madrisa isn’t the only cake at this bakery. Their chocolate strawberry cream cake certainly is no slouch. Around noon, they’re prepping for the next day, peeling and slicing boxes of fruit. This, too, is fast and focused. On Christmas Eve last year, Henk’s sold 770 Swiss Madrisa cakes in one day. On Mother’s Day, their busiest day, they prepare around 1,200 cakes. Be it Eid al-Fitr, Chris- tian holidays or celebra- tions for communities from North Africa, Eu- rope, Asia and Latin America — come one, come all — they line up for this cake. And while other gro- cery stores sell similar- looking cakes, the texture and consistency is always different. For instance, Fiesta Mart’s fruit- topped white cake is a tres leches with dense, moist layers. H-E-B sells a comparable cake as well — white icing with fruit on top — but the ones we found were also tres leches, even denser than the Fiesta Mart variety. Other European delis and Black Forest baker- ies around the U.S. have equivalent cakes, like Freed’s in Las Vegas and Nadler’s in San Antonio. None are called “Swiss Madrisa,” despite seemingly being the same: whipped cream, a light sponge, fresh fruit and slivered al- monds on the sides. While the cake’s origins are in Eu- rope, how it became so appealing to so many communities is difficult to trace. The Winnubsts aren’t exactly sure either. Perhaps it’s the simplicity. Instead of fondant or overly sweet, brightly colored icing, whipped cream is topped with fresh fruit. Vi- sually, the cake is a sunny day. Fresh, light and happy. The price is also tempting. The small round 8-inch cake is $37 and easily provides 10 ro- bust slices. “I’ve asked people in the past,” Hu- bertus says. “They say, ‘This is the taste of our country. This is what you find in Mexico City.’” Santos’ mother immigrated from Mer- ida, the state capital of Yucatan, to Dallas in 1963. Her family was part of a Mexican immigrant community on Lower Green- ville that in the ‘60s, ‘70s and ‘80s leaned on each other, especially business propri- Bakers at Henk's European Deli and Black Forest Bakery goe through the steps of frosting the cake, covering it with almonds, adding fresh fruit slices and glazing the top to complete the cake. Alison McLean City of Ate from p15
