mexican chocolate cake

mexican chocolate cake, originally uploaded by isabelle gr.

I am not a chocolate eating maniac, but I can appreciate the need for a special cake now and then. I made this little extravagance as a present for Chad and Emily when we had dinner at their house recently.

The amazing recipe comes from chef Rebecca Rather, courtesy of Epicurious. I did little to change it, except adding a bit more cinnamon and a dash of cayenne to the batter; and substituting coffee for water. The outcome of these three adjustments is simply to turn up the volume on an already good flavor: cocoa. I also took other reviewers' advice and dusted the inside of my buttered cake pan with cocoa powder rather than flour, which just makes you feel decadent.

Same goes for the pecan-laden glaze. By the time I got to glazing, I felt like this recipe may cause riots, fits, hysteria, and fainting. I did not bother to spread the glaze gracefully over the Bundt pan; I let gravity do the work.

By the end of the evening, I was surprise at how easily and quickly it all came together, how the outrageous ingredients mellowed, and how satisfying a slim slice with one or two pecans tasted as we talked and laughed and sipped wine in the kitchen of Chad and Emily's cozy new home.

shopping on arthur ave, the bronx, easter morning

shopping on arthur ave, the bronx, easter morning, originally uploaded by isabelle gr.

Food shopping in New York is a marvelous thing. One of my favorite places to go is the famous old stretch of Italian bakeries, butchershops, cheeseshops, and cafes in the Bronx known simply by its street name, Arthur Avenue. And I only go there guided by one of my favorite cooks, my Uncle Jorge, preferably early in the morning on Easter. This year, Mom, Delia, Nick, and I followed him on an dawn excursion in search of fresh mozzarella (or mozz -- pronounced mottz -- as we call it when time is of the essence), tender lamb, pungent olives, chocolate easter eggs, and a cappuccino or two.

Here is Uncle Jorge, bundled up in a warm coat, waiting as the George Clooney of butchers weighs the lamb.

Delia looks over the towers of olive oil, canned tomatoes, and flour sacks. The line was already out the door and down the block at this small corner store, where the shelves are packed up to the ceiling with tins and cans and vats and jars and trussed up salted goods. So we moved on after a quick survey of the window and sidewalk displays.