By October 2041. The book has a first draft. Elena sent me an email — not a text, an email, which is how she signals formality — that said: this is a first draft. It needs work. But it's a book. She attached a document with eighteen pages of notes, which is less than I expected and more organized than I could have managed for my own work. The notes fall into three categories: structure (she thinks the middle section runs long), voice (she flagged eight places where she says I got "teacherly," which means I explained things I didn't need to explain), and emotional honesty (four sections she says I held back in and should go further). The last category was the hardest to read and the most useful.
I called her after I'd read the notes twice. She said: before you say anything — it's really good. I said: you said it needs work. She said: things that are good often need work. I said: what about the emotional honesty sections? She said: you know what I mean. I said: I'm writing about real people. She said: they'll understand. I said: you don't know that. She said: yes I do. The people who matter will understand. She was quiet for a second and said: Dad, this book is about Ruben as much as it's about football. You know that, right? I said: I know that. She said: let it be. Don't protect him. He doesn't need protection. Tell the truth. I said: okay. She said: okay. I'll make the revisions. She said: I know you will.
After I hung up with Elena, I didn’t go back to the manuscript. I went to the kitchen instead — which is where I go when something has shifted and I need my hands to know it before my head catches up. I’ve been making these chocolate-bottom mini-cupcakes since Ruben’s sister taught me the recipe years ago, and they’ve always felt right for moments that are two things at once: finished and unfinished, proud and grieving, relieved and scared. The cream cheese layer sitting underneath all that dark chocolate is a little like what Elena was asking me to do — don’t hide the soft part, let it be there, let it hold the weight.
Chocolate-Bottom Mini-Cupcakes
Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 24 mini-cupcakes
Ingredients
- Cream Cheese Filling
- 8 oz cream cheese, softened
- 1/3 cup granulated sugar
- 1 large egg
- 1/8 tsp salt
- 1 cup mini semisweet chocolate chips
- Chocolate Batter
- 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
- 1 cup granulated sugar
- 1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
- 1 tsp baking soda
- 1/2 tsp salt
- 1 cup water
- 1/3 cup vegetable oil
- 1 tbsp white vinegar
- 1 tsp pure vanilla extract
Instructions
- Preheat oven. Heat oven to 350°F. Line two standard 12-cup muffin tins with paper liners and set aside.
- Make the cream cheese filling. In a medium bowl, beat the softened cream cheese and 1/3 cup sugar together until smooth and fluffy. Add the egg and 1/8 tsp salt and mix until fully combined. Fold in the mini chocolate chips. Set aside.
- Make the chocolate batter. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, 1 cup sugar, cocoa powder, baking soda, and 1/2 tsp salt. Add the water, vegetable oil, vinegar, and vanilla extract. Stir until just combined and smooth — do not overmix.
- Fill the cups. Spoon the chocolate batter into each liner, filling about halfway. Drop a heaping teaspoon of the cream cheese mixture into the center of each cup directly on top of the batter. The cream cheese will sink slightly during baking — this is correct.
- Bake. Bake for 22–25 minutes, until the edges are set and the cream cheese topping is lightly golden. A toothpick inserted into the chocolate portion (not the cream cheese center) should come out clean.
- Cool. Let cupcakes cool in the pan for 5 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely. The chocolate-bottom layer will firm as they cool. Serve at room temperature or slightly chilled.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 172 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 24g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 118mg