Brooklyn Blackout Cake

Election week. The world is anxious. The base is tense. I'm baking. Mom's nervous baking. The tradition she started in 2016, the night I watched her make three things in two hours while the returns came in. Now I'm doing the same thing: cookies, banana bread, and a pan of brownies that nobody asked for but that appeared on the counter because my hands need to be busy and flour is cheaper than therapy. Caleb helped. He stood on his step stool and 'mixed' the brownie batter with the enthusiasm of a child who has discovered that chocolate exists in liquid form before it becomes a solid, and that this liquid form is DELICIOUS and also off-limits, which makes it more delicious. The blog this week was non-political (food blogs should NEVER be political — food is the one thing that brings people together, and I'm not going to ruin that with opinions that half the audience doesn't share). Instead, I wrote about 'comfort baking' — the instinct to bake when the world is uncertain. The way women have always turned to flour and sugar when they can't control anything else. 'My mother baked through Election Night 2016,' I wrote. 'She made cookies and banana bread and cornbread and didn't stop until the results were in. I didn't understand it then. I understand it now. The baking is the thing you do when you can't do the thing you want to do. It's the productive version of pacing. It's worry, transformed into butter and sugar and sent through an oven and out the other side as something you can eat.' Nine thousand views. The most shared non-recipe post I've ever written. Caleb turns two in three weeks. The chocolate cake plan is finalized. The birthday hat is purchased. The invitation to the small desert party is sent. Mom called. She sounded tired. Not nervous-baking tired — tired tired. 'Your father has a cold,' she said. 'In a pandemic. A COLD. I'm making him stay in the house and he wants to go to the garden and I'm going to lose my mind, Rachel.' Dad. A cold. During COVID. My stomach dropped. 'It's not COVID,' Mom said quickly. 'He tested. Negative. Just a cold. But I'm watching him like a hawk.' Donna the hawk. Watching Kevin for symptoms the way she's watched him since Kandahar. Different threat. Same vigilance. Made Mom's chicken noodle soup — the medicine soup — and wished I could teleport it to Norfolk. Instead, I sent the recipe to Mom's phone with a note: 'Make this for Dad. He needs it.' 'I've BEEN making this, Rachel. I invented this recipe.' Right. She did. She doesn't need my recipe. She needs her husband to be okay. He's okay. The cold passed. Dad is fine. But for forty-eight hours, the distance between California and Virginia felt like an ocean.

The brownies from election week were long gone by the time I started thinking about Caleb’s birthday cake — but the need for serious chocolate never left. If I’m being honest, it was those forty-eight hours of watching my phone and willing Dad’s cold to just be a cold that cemented it: we were doing the Brooklyn Blackout Cake for his second birthday, and I was practicing it now, because my hands still needed something to do and this cake deserved a rehearsal. It’s layered and fudgy and almost aggressively chocolate — the kind of cake that asks something of you and gives a lot back, which felt exactly right for the week we’d had.

Prep Time: 45 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 4 hrs (includes cooling) | Servings: 12

Ingredients

Cake Layers
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 cups granulated sugar
3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
2 large eggs, room temperature
1 cup buttermilk, room temperature
1 cup strong brewed coffee, cooled
1/2 cup vegetable oil
2 tsp pure vanilla extract
Chocolate Pudding Filling
2 cups whole milk
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup cornstarch
3 tbsp unsweetened cocoa powder
1/4 tsp salt
4 oz bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped
2 tbsp unsalted butter
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
Chocolate Frosting
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder, sifted
3 cups powdered sugar, sifted
1/3 cup heavy cream
2 tsp pure vanilla extract
Pinch of salt

Instructions

Make the pudding first. Whisk together milk, sugar, cornstarch, cocoa, and salt in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Cook, stirring constantly, until the mixture thickens and begins to bubble, about 8–10 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in chopped chocolate, butter, and vanilla until fully melted and smooth. Press plastic wrap directly onto the surface and refrigerate at least 2 hours until firm.
Bake the cake layers. Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease and flour two 9-inch round cake pans and line the bottoms with parchment. Whisk together flour, sugar, cocoa, baking soda, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl. In a separate bowl, whisk eggs, buttermilk, coffee, oil, and vanilla. Pour wet ingredients into dry and stir until just combined — batter will be thin. Divide evenly between pans.
Bake. Bake 32–35 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out with moist crumbs (not wet batter). Cool in pans 15 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack and cool completely — at least 1 hour.
Make the frosting. Beat softened butter with cocoa powder on medium speed until combined, about 2 minutes. Add powdered sugar one cup at a time, alternating with splashes of heavy cream, beating until fluffy. Mix in vanilla and salt. If frosting is too thick, add cream 1 tsp at a time; if too thin, add more powdered sugar.
Assemble. Using a serrated knife, slice each cake layer in half horizontally so you have 4 thin layers. Set one layer cut-side up on your cake stand. Crumble the least-pretty layer into coarse crumbs and set aside — these coat the outside. Spread a generous layer of chilled chocolate pudding between each remaining cake layer as you stack.
Frost and coat. Spread frosting over the top and sides of the assembled cake. Working quickly, press the reserved chocolate cake crumbs all over the frosted exterior, covering it completely. Refrigerate at least 30 minutes before slicing.
Serve. Slice with a sharp knife wiped clean between cuts. Serve at room temperature for the fudgiest texture. Store covered in the refrigerator up to 4 days.

Nutrition (per serving)

Brooklyn Blackout Cake — The Chocolate That Got Us Through It