Licking the bowl

My last post may have been just a tad bit morose. The morning after writing it I sat down at the computer and found myself completely embarrassed. Why, oh why, can't I simply write sometimes and not push the publish button? Disgusted, I closed the lid and haven't been able to write anything since.

Then I opened the new book I'd just started reading. "A Homemade Life" by Molly Wizenberg, who is also the author of the fabulous food blog orangette, is a memoir about life with food in the middle. As I became thoroughly engrossed in the stories and recipes, I ran across this paragraph:

I guess you could say that having a blog is a little like the windows of a house I used to live in during my sophomore year of college. I loved opening them wide during the day, so that the smell of the eucalyptus trees outside could drift in and sweep out the rooms. But occasionally I would come home and find a squirrel on my desk. A live squirrel. He would have climbed up the tree outside and jumped in through the window, and now here he was, rifling with his tiny, scratchy claws through whatever he found, tearing up every paper and scrap. Blogging is a little like that. It's an incredible pleasure to open the window, to put yourself out in the world that way. It's even better than the scent of eucalyptus. But occasionally you come home and find a squirrel on the desk, so to speak; a nasty comment, maybe, or even worse, something you wrote yourself, probably late at night, when you should have been sleeping, something that makes your cheeks hot.

Oh, happy day. It's not just me. Molly's had publish button regret too. I'm not alone in the world.

And with that epiphany, there was only one thing to do. Make Molly's chocolate cake.

This cake, a French melting chocolate cake, only uses five ingredients. And only one tiny tablespoon of flour. Do you know what that means? That means the majority of the cake is made from butter and chocolate. This is not a cake for the weak.

The ingredients: 7 ounces good quality chocolate (at least 60% cocoa solids - I used an extra dark semi-sweet), 1 and 3/4 sticks of butter, 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar, 5 eggs and 1 tablespoon flour.



Chop the chocolate into little pieces, cut the butter into small cubes and put them in a bowl. Microwave them for 30-second bursts, stirring between each burst. Pretty soon the chocolate and butter will melt together and turn into smooth, sultry liquid velvet, just perfect for smearing on an inner thigh.



Stir in the sugar, mix well, and let the batter cool for about five minutes. Then add the eggs one at a time, stirring well after each egg. And then the one tiny tablespoon of flour. Mix that in too.



Pour the batter into a buttered cake pan. (Molly says to also line it with parchment, but I never do. It worked just fine without it.)

If you can restrain yourself from licking the bowl and spoon, you have a lot more discipline than me, although that's really not saying much.

Bake it in a 375 degree oven for about 25 minutes. You'll know it's done when it's not jiggly in the middle, and when it's a bit puffed up and crackly. Scientific, no? You'll want to cool it in the pan on a rack for about 15 minutes. Then flip it out onto a plate upside down. Use another plate on top and then flip them both over so the cake is right side up. This is a bit complicated, but you can do it. Trust me.



Despite its humble appearance, this cake is absolutely delicious. Tasting like a brownie mixed with the inside of a truffle topped with a thirty-minute orgasm, it's deep, rich and totally decadent. I served it with lightly sweetened fresh whipped cream.



Molly calls this the "Winning Hearts and Minds Cake." I think it could win over a few other body parts as well.

Enjoy!