Tuesday, January 5, 2010
A couple of days ago, there was that bad day. I missed Vancouver. I missed the natural foods store in walking distance. I missed my friends, my yellow kitchen, my teacups now packed in some box. I missed things like not having to say hello to passersby when feeling introverted--silly things like having to share a laundry room, and the odd smell of toast around my neighborhood (never could figure out where it came from).
That was the day I could have wallowed in my own self-pity from dawn till dusk. Not that I didn't. But I spent a lot of time cooking too. That was the day of the Stuffed Collard Greens. I never thought stuffed greens could be so easy. And the sweet, spiced, nutty flavor of the quinoa filling was so comforting.
I ate them in the car. Not recommended. Too juicy. But it was exactly what I needed.
What I didn't tell you that day is that I also baked a cake. I thought I couldn't possibly post a recipe for this cake because it is from my favorite food blogger, Molly Wizenberg--and she got it from The New York Times. Seemed a little redundant. But I have to tell you, this cake is the best cake I have ever made in my life. I have a phobia of all things chocolate. I have baked the most beautiful cakes in the bakeries I've worked. Always moist. Always, actually, perfect. But home baking is another monster. And I have made some awful, awful chocolate cakes and brownies. Really--dry, cracked, and tough as mattresses. There have been some beauties too, of course, otherwise I wouldn't likely be so free in telling of my mishaps, but the point here is that when I find a baked chocolate recipe and make it, if it is glorious, gorgeous, perfect, it would be seriously bad manners to keep the recipe to myself. I believe it is now my duty as one writing in public to share this recipe. Even if you already knows about it.
This cake is like the walk I took that night: dark and a little mournful. I walked in the mist, with the fuzzy oak trees in the distant fields, black and hazy, bendy and perfectly melancholy with me--the Valley I have missed--all at once delicate, strong, and dreamy.
To see Molly's recipe go here. Enjoy! To see my orange liquor take on it, go here.