The Chocolate Cake

In January 2008 I threw a dinner party to celebrate the birthdays of two dear friends. What was served for dinner has faded from memory, but what was served for dessert has not. The dessert enjoyed that cold winter evening was chocolate, dark, moist and amazing. The recipe in Food & Wine magazine titled the cake: Crunchy Milk Chocolate Peanut Butter Layer Cake. The name alone inspired me to create it for my friends. The recipe claimed the cake took four hours to prepare; I found it took six, but I loved every minute.  As I finished the cake and topped it with ganache, the thick chocolate ran over the sides of the cake and overflowed onto the counter-top. The mess and mass of chocolate worried me: Would the cake be too much for the crowd to handle? 

After the table had been cleared of the dinner plates, I anxiously jumped up to slice and serve the cake. Many of those in attendance begged that the slices be thin, for they were 'not that into sweets' or 'watching what they ate’. I tried my best to make the slices thin, but the cake demanded just the opposite. The plates of the dark brown slices were passed about. A few plates were returned to the kitchen half-eaten, but most of the guests slowly enjoyed the cake in amazement. "What is this?" I was asked more than once. I reveled telling the story of the recipe and all the marvelous ingredients...rice krispies, sliced almonds, creamy peanut butter and over a pound of chocolate. I also got to say words like ganache and meringue which filled me with pride.

A small amount of cake was leftover from the evening’s festivities and one friend happily volunteered to escort it home. The cake was wrapped and sent away. I went to bed that night pleased with the dinner party and dreaming of cake.

One week later
I received an e-mail inviting me to a lunchtime gathering of old co-workers. One of the women in attendance was the same dinner guest who had taken the cake home the week prior.  During lunch, I found the leftover cake made it to the office. After the word ‘cake’ was blurted, the conversation turned to all things cake. They loved it. They marveled over it and I again got to talk proudly of my master baker moments.

Then the proposition came: The dinner guest asked, "Will you make it for my 40th birthday?"
 
"Of course!"

Five years later

My friend, the dinner guest, is turning 40. She has decided that renting a house in Healdsburg is the perfect way to celebrate her grand day. The e-mails are sent and I’m asked to bring a side dish. I remembered about the cake, but since it was her day I figured that she had something else in mind for dessert and I didn't want to impose. The day in Healdsburg was beautiful. The friends, the setting, the weather, the food, it was all good. Then came dessert...
 
A stupendous chocolate fondue platter with fruits, cookies and marshmallows for dipping into either dark or milk chocolate had been prepared. The crowd clamored over the fondue; nobody could get enough. The children were almost shark-like in their frenzy.

As we were polishing off the tray of fruit and other goodies, my friend turned to me and mentioned the cake, “Do you remember the cake you made a few years ago?”

A tingle went down my spine, yes the cake! “Of course I remember the cake. I would've been happy to make it and I will make it again.” 

Two weeks ago 

The same dinner party group has an annual Christmas party. When the date was set in early December, I immediately offered to bring dessert and simultaneously started the hunt for the November 2007 issue of Food and Wine (yes, I do save those special issues of food magazines but could not remember if I was looking for Bon Appetit or Gourmet which hindered the search).

Baking the cake took a little less effort; this time taking five hours to prepare instead of six. In the final step of preparation, I poured the ganache over the cake. I held my breath waiting for the ganache to overflow onto the counter and…this time it did not. Had I made a mistake or had I mastered the cake? It was midnight and I had to wait a whole day to find out. I stored the cake safely beneath a domed cake plate and stored it in the frigid garage overnight.  

Party time! 
We were the first guests to the party. My husband offered to carry the cake from the car, but I declined. I carried it through the house confidently and asked the host to make room for the cake in the outside refrigerator. The second dinner guests arrived. After greetings and hugs they announced they'd brought chocolate martinis. The crowd cheered and the hostess begged, “Are you making these martinis now?”

“No, I thought I would make them for dessert.” The husband replied.

My heart sank. I was worried that the martinis would outshine the cake or that guests would opt for one over the other.  I asked for a glass of champagne and took a moment to strategize. After a few handfuls of nuts and a glass of champagne, I offered to the host,   “hey, let’s have the chocolate martinis right after dinner and cut the cake after we open presents.”

“Perfect!” she piped.

And perfect it was… (and my dreams are are still tinged in chocolate)

Glad to have a Friend like Kim

I had dinner with a friend from college recently. When she wrote to tell me she was passing through town there was no question in my mind that I would meet her. She wrote, I cleared my calendar and a date was set for the next night.

I woke the next morning to bright sunny skies with a few high clouds. I went about my household chores all morning and most of the afternoon. All the while, clouds were gathering outside. A chance of rain had been predicted, but a chance is just a chance and did not merit concern. 

SF Bay Adventure 1998

When it came time to get in the car and head toward our rendezvous point, the clouds had burst. The pounding rain demanded that the windshield wipers be set to high. If the dinner date were with a business associate or new acquaintance, I would have seen the storm as foreboding and either been timid about the meeting or considered a cancellation. I was meeting Kim, however, and the wet skies could not deter my spirit.

After 30 minutes of treacherous driving with my husband at the helm, we arrived at our destination. We ran through the parking lot dodging cars and rain drops, slowing only to pull open the heavy restaurant doors. We arrived before Kim and her husband and requested a large table. Once tucked in with our appetizer and first round of drinks we sat quietly, watching the rain outside and waiting for our friends.

Before the last sip of my drink, she appeared. She had been traveling and blogging for the last few months from afar and now she was here with me. We ordered another round of drinks and she and her husband shared tales from their travels. Everything she said was foreign yet familiar. Foreign because my world is knee-deep in parenthood and writing and familiar because all the stories shared were coming from a friend.

Friendship is an incredible thing. A true friend has no pretense. Time together is cherished and never worn. She talked about living in Norway and skiing in Germany. The stories were new but told with a familiar tenor; like hearing your favorite band playing new song. The rain continued to fall outside, but inside there was no storm. We were content and warm, basking in friendship and merriment.
 

Unexpected Visit Summer 2009

When the night ended and we said good-bye, it was not hard nor sad. We both knew there would be another meet-up or dinner or phone call. Just like the storm outside was unexpected, so too was the visit from my friend. The rainstorm nourished the earth and time with my friend nourished my soul.

post script: Whenever we're together we belt out lines from our favorite childhood album: Free to Be You and Me. I brought the album with me to college, she spied it in my room and we played it over and over, singing at the top of our lungs. The title of this blog is inspired by the last track on the album.