No Kings Cake

Resistance and renewal can arise from reclaiming ancient customs.

“I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss.”—Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

The gâteau des rois or the galette des rois—the kings’ cake—is a time-honored French tradition stretching back to ancient times.

The custom of naming a “king for the day” during the Roman Saturnalia dates back to the earliest centuries. Saturn, a dethroned and exiled king, was seen as a menacing, wrathful figure whose disruptive influence had to be kept at bay, his power thwarted. During the festivities of Saturnalia, his reign of chaos—the so-called “evil days of Saturn”—was temporarily overturned by naming a new king, a symbolic act to absorb Saturn’s power and misrule and reclaim order, joy, and balance. The idea of a king’s cake was central to these celebrations. Each noble household held a banquet, during which a cake was sliced and shared among the entire household, including slaves and servants (anyone could become king). Hidden inside was a bean, the winning token that would designate the King of Saturnalia—or, more likely, a prince: the Saturnalicius princeps. The traditions surrounding this centuries-old cake have always been joyful, raucous, and full of playful mischief, a time in which jester could be king, and king could be jester.

It’s fitting that the origins of the gâteau des rois—the French Kings’ Cake, now a French tradition of Epiphany, the Christian feast commemorating the Three Magi—are rooted in pagan ritual. It feels especially apt this year, given both the theme I’ve chosen and the way recent weeks have unfolded. In a time marked by profane and impious forces led by a menacing and wrathful tyrant seeking to overturn order and institutions, the cake’s history reminds us that resistance and renewal can arise from reclaiming ancient customs. Today’s celebrations of Epiphany, like Christmas itself, echo older rites of Saturnalia and the winter solstice—the darkest time of year, when people gathered not in silence but in joyous revelry, to drive out the darkness and welcome the returning light.

Last month, an estimated 5 million people across 2,100 cities took to the streets for the #NoKings march to protest the machinations of the man who would be king. Democrats Abroad joined as well, declaring: “We reject authoritarianism. We reject fear. We reject tyrants.” The nationwide—worldwide—march was defined neither by silence nor violence; the media reported on an overall atmosphere of joy, a “boisterous, peaceful display."

That’s when I knew: I had to share a recipe for a No Kings Cake—a gâteau sans rois. As in ancient days, we find ourselves resisting the rise of a dangerous figure, an evil tyrant causing disorder and chaos. Again, we gather to stand against the darkness. The #NoKings protests should remind us that some traditions—like shared joy, defiance, and rambunctious revelry—have their place in society as a way to combat fear, challenge tyranny, reclaim light, and remind us that we, the people, still have the power.

And what better way to celebrate that #NoKings spirit than with a cake that brings rebellion to the plate? The French know their pastry—and revolution is a French tradition in its own right—but this is no delicate puff pastry or airy brioche with hidden treasures and paper crowns. This gâteau sans rois is a rich, unapologetically dark devil’s food cake, spiked with orange to represent the orange devil we refuse to let reign. Bold, dense, and impossible to ignore, this cake doesn’t bow to kings; it’s a small act of resistance, a tribute to the power of defiance. It is, or can be, a reminder that even in dark times, we can still gather, still share joy, and still rise.

“Friends should be preferred to kings.”—Voltaire

#NoKings Chocolate Orange Devil’s Food Cake

With chocolate orange frosting

(This recipe first appeared in my cookbook Orange Appeal, Gibbs Smith, 2017)

For the Chocolate Orange Cake

1 ¾ cups (240 grams) flour

2 cups (400 grams) sugar

¾ cup (75 grams) unsweetened cocoa powder

1 ½ teaspoon baking powder

1 ½ teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

2 large eggs

1 cup (250 ml) whole milk

½ cup (125 ml) vegetable oil

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 teaspoon orange extract (can be replaced with 1 teaspoon vanilla extract)

1 orange, finely zested

1 cup (250 ml) freshly squeezed orange juice, heated but not boiling

For the Chocolate Orange Frosting

8 tablespoons (120 grams) unsalted butter, softened

3 cups (12 ounces, 350 grams) powdered/confectioner’s sugar

5 packed tablespoons (2 ounces or 60 grams) unsweetened cocoa powder

4 - 5 tablespoons hot but not boiling freshly squeezed orange juice

A few tablespoons fresh mascarpone cheese, optional

Prepare the Chocolate Orange Layer Cake

Preheat oven to 350°F (180°C). Oil and flour 2 regular (8 ½ or 9-inch or 22 or 23-cm) round cake pans or 3 smaller (7-inch or 18-cm) cake pans generously; alternately, oil the pans and line the bottoms with parchment paper.

Combine the dry ingredients in a large mixing bowl and whisk together to blend well.

Add the eggs, milk, oil, vanilla and orange extracts, and the fine zest. Using an electric mixer, beat on low until well blended then increase the mixer speed to medium and beat for about 2 minutes.

Carefully stir in the hot orange juice. The batter will be very runny.

Carefully divide the liquid batter between the prepared cake pans.

Bake in the preheated oven for 35 – 40 minutes or until the center is set (30 – 35 minutes for the smaller layers). Remove from oven and allow to cool for 10 – 15 minutes in the pans on cooling racks before running a knife blade around the edges of the cakes to loosen, turning the layers out of the pans, removing and discarding the parchment paper, and allowing the layers to cool completely, top sides up, before frosting.

Prepare the Chocolate Orange Frosting

In a medium mixing bowl, beat the butter and sugar together. Add the cocoa powder and 4 tablespoons of hot orange juice and beat, scraping down the sides of the bowl as necessary, until well blended and fluffy; add the additional tablespoon of orange juice only if the frosting is too thick.

Sometimes, I will add a few tablespoons of fresh, chilled mascarpone cheese to create a creamier, denser frosting. If you do, it is best to store uneaten cake in the refrigerator.

(Ilva Beretta for Orange Appeal)

Jamie Schler is an American food and culture writer living in France where she owns a hotel and writes the Substack Life’s a Feast.

---