When my friend’s father passed away unexpectedly last week, I didn’t know what to do. Even though I currently make my living with words, they fail me when called upon for clarity and sobriety. I’m not much of a philosopher and writing a sympathy card becomes a tall order, even though my sentiments are true. So, instead of attempting to express my sympathy through sullen words, I decided to bake.
When I was younger and a relative, friend or neighbor passed away, my mother would make a long heavy tray of eggplant parmesan to take over to the immediate family of the deceased. Everyone else in our neighborhood made lasagna, which is the classic selection, though it tends to grow tiresome midway through the third tray and excludes the rare but real Italian vegetarian, who must then scavenge for breadsticks and salad. I liked how my mother put in extra effort to prepare an inclusive dish.
The early example of food as a conveyance of sympathy and support stuck with me. I considered making eggplant parmesan for my friend at first, but logistics vetoed the impulse. I had to take public transportation down to Staten Island and thought a large disposable aluminum tray might be a little unwieldy for the long voyage. By comparison, breads, loaf cakes, muffins and other hearty baked goods could weather the Oregon Trail. Dessert foods also appeal to a broad spectrum, especially during times when there are more important things to worry about than caloric content.
I settled on a recent family favorite adapted from a traditional recipe: Mexican Chocolate Cake. The dense, dark confection has a complex taste that transcends traditional chocolaty sweetness with hints of cinnamon and orange. It contains coffee, a natural chocolate flavor enhancer, which may be used in lieu of vanilla extract in chocolate chip cookies, with palpable results.
Thinking of my friend, I began to bake with ritualistic concentration, preheating the oven to 350, evenly greasing the loaf pan and dusting it with rich brown cocoa powder, fine talc which felt silky on the pads of my fingers when I pressed them together. For the double recipe batch, I placed an obscene amount of butter in a warm saucepan, stirring gently until the most stubborn chunks had melted into submission. I combined the wet ingredients, then the dry. When both were united, a bag’s worth of dark chocolate chips rained down and was swiftly incorporated. The batter was extremely fragrant, the heady note of orange extract sustained over a symphony of butter, flour and chocolate.
While the cake baked, I packed my bag for the long weekend. While it cooled, I had dinner with my parents, which was a special privilege in light of my friend’s sad news. Though I try to be grateful for what I have each day, tragedy always enhances my appreciation. I wrapped the cake in wax paper, foil and three layers of plastic before placing it in my bag and heading for the train.
I trundled the cake down to Manhattan, to spend the night with another friend. We awoke at six o’clock the next morning in order to make it to the funeral on time. My host friend, the cake and I took the A train, the J train and a shuttle to the Staten Island Ferry, where we stood on the bow as we slowly made our way south, past the Statue of Liberty, the bay breeze whipping our long hair across our faces. We took the Staten Island Railroad ten stops south, to where our friend was waiting for us.
The cake did not make its appearance for a long time. The family met at the funeral home; a brave sister gave a well-composed and moving speech; the priest said Catholic mass in a thick Hispanic accent; I watched my friend, his pinstripe-suited back to us, the last one to linger at his father’s grave. Everyone met at an Italian restaurant afterward; my other friend, vegetarian, ordered eggplant parmesan. After a car ride down to the Jersey Shore, we were hungry once more. I made you a cake, I told my friend and his mother, who had invited us to her summer home to unwind. We had it later with tall glasses of cold milk, a brief reprieve from the long weekend.
Mexican Chocolate Cake
1 c. unsalted butter
1/2 c. Ghirardelli unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 c. water
1/4 c. strong brewed coffee
2 c. sugar
2 eggs
1/2 c. buttermilk
2 tsp. vanilla extract
2 c. all-purpose flour
1 tsp. baking soda
2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. orange extract
6 oz. Hershey’s Special Dark chocolate chips
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease loaf pan and dust with cocoa powder.
Melt the butter completely in a saucepan and transfer it to a large mixing bowl. Add cocoa powder and whisk until smooth. Add water and coffee, sugar (I recommend going scant.), eggs, buttermilk, vanilla extract and orange extract, whisking thoroughly after each ingredient is introduced.
In a separate mixing bowl, blend flour, baking soda, cinnamon and salt. Dry ingredients may be sifted, but I prefer mixing with a spoon for a denser cake. Gradually add dry ingredients to wet ingredients, stirring until smooth. Add chocolate chips and blend gently. Once all ingredients are united, pour the batter into the prepared loaf pan, filling approximately halfway. Bake for approximately 55-60 minutes, until the cake’s top springs back when touched or a toothpick comes out clean or with minimal crumbs when inserted into the cake’s middle.
Any additional batter can be poured into cupcake liners placed in muffin tins and baked for approximately 20 minutes.
Megan Labrise
(Orig. pub. date: June 20, 2007)
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