A perfectly imperfect concoction
By Leah Eskin
The hostess keeps many a sharp arrow in her quiver. Dependable vinaigrette. Clever sandwich. Stunning roast. Chocolate cake.
Indeed, should she snap an arrowhead, stumble midshot or miss the mark with a new dish, all will be pardoned by way of chocolate cake.
Which is why it is considered the best defense.
By chocolate cake, of course, she does not mean some imposing tower crusted with sugar roses. Nor the earnest layer cake.
She means stealth cake. A low, humble contraption. Simple to prepare. Simply adorned. So unassuming it might seem an afterthought. Or French.
And yet, when sliced and savored, its aim is true. Pure. Intense. Perfection.
The holy grail, as it were, of recipes.
The hostess, at a young and careless age, actually possessed this recipe. She came by it so effortlessly-a typed sheet folded into a packet of photos and bills-that she did not appreciate its value.
In the spartan splendor of her first apartment, she stirred together its few ingredients. Her roommates salaamed. At her loft, with its off-label wiring and savage oven, she produced a charred rendition, one her employer’s wife pronounced unusual.
Then-predictably-she lost it. In the words of the ancient ballad, she would never have that recipe again. Oh, no.
Dooming her to search.
She falls for fake. The sort of catalog come-on that promises intense flavor in a flimsy box. She suffers confusion, presuming “flourless” to mean “good.” She is distraught by the puddle melty as mudpie. And discouraged by the puck so dense as to require fork and saw.
She presses on. She separates eggs. Whips whites. Fluffs yolks. Tracks her chocolate to its source. She dusts with unsweetened cocoa and overly sweet powdered sugar. She switches to glaze.
In her travels she comes across a pleasing version simple enough to count as both afterthought and French. She keeps the recipe close at hand, alert to the dinner-party emergency.
And though none of her expeditions yields chocolate cake perfection, she stays true to her mission. Over the years she has grown accustomed to the heroine’s fate: to loss, to hope and the endless promise of redemption.
ALMOST-PERFECT CHOCOLATE CAKE
12 ounces bittersweet chocolate
2‚Ñ3 cup (11 tablespoons) unsalted butter
3‚Ñ4 cup sugar
5 eggs, separated
1‚Ñ3 cup flour
Glaze (recipe follows)
Melt: Break up chocolate; cut butter into chunks. In a large heavy saucepan set over low heat melt chocolate, butter and sugar. Let cool.
Mix: Whisk egg yolks into the chocolate. Whisk in flour.
Fluff: Beat egg whites just until they form firm peaks.
Fold: Vigorously mix one-third of the egg whites into the chocolate batter. Gently and thoroughly fold in remaining whites.
Bake: Pour batter into a buttered 9-inch springform pan. Bake until the cake is firm and springy, 35 to 40 minutues. Cool completely on a rack before releasing cake and inverting it onto a platter.
Glaze: Slide a few strips of wax paper under the edges of the cake to catch drips. Pour all the warm glaze into a big puddle on top. Use the back of a rubber spatula to nudge glaze toward the edges, where it can drip becomingly down the sides. Let set a few minutes. Pull away wax paper strips. Stun guests.
Chocolate glaze
Chop 4 ounces semisweet chocolate and tumble it into a medium bowl. Heat 1‚Ñ2 cup heavy cream to boiling. Pour hot cream over chocolate. Cover with a plate and let stand 5 minutes. With a rubber spatula, gently stir smooth. Stir in 1 teaspoon cognac.
Provenance: I found the cake recipe in Patricia Wells’ masterpiece, “Bistro Cooking.” She got it from Marie-Claude Gracia, who presumably came by it by being French. I couldn’t resist adding a glaze, because it looks so pretty.
Serves 12