Chocolate Fudge Cake

Clay turned twenty on Saturday. Twenty years old. Two decades of a human life that has included: a birth, a childhood, a football career, an Army enlistment, a deployment, an IED, a DUI, a garage floor, a VA program, and a kitchen full of recipes that are slowly, stubbornly saving him. Twenty years is not a long time by geological standards. It's an eternity by parenting standards. It's the exact right amount of time for a father to realize that he can't control anything about his child's life except the temperature of the oil and the quality of the biscuit.

For his birthday, Clay cooked. He said "I want to make the birthday meal." He made: smoked ribs (his first solo smoke — nine hours, a little over-smoked, but the bark was good and the meat was tender, maybe seventy percent), cornbread (eighty-five percent, getting consistent), and Connie's chocolate cake, which he made from the recipe Connie wrote down for him and which was... sixty percent. The layers were uneven and the frosting was thick in some places and thin in others and the overall appearance was what you'd call "rustic" if you were being kind and "a mess" if you were being honest. But the taste was right. The chocolate was deep and the coffee was there and the buttermilk tang was present and Clay decorated it with twenty candles and we sang happy birthday and he blew them out and we ate cake that was sixty percent beautiful and one hundred percent made by a twenty-year-old combat veteran who is alive and cooking and celebrating a birthday that, three months ago, I wasn't sure he'd celebrate.

I didn't make a wish. Clay made the wish. He closed his eyes and blew and I don't know what he wished for but I know what I would have wished, which is this: more birthdays. More cakes. More ribs. More biscuits at eighty-seven percent and soup beans at ninety-two percent and Saturday mornings in the kitchen with flour on our shirts. More time. More time is the only wish that matters. More time is always the wish.

Clay made Connie’s cake from a handwritten recipe, and the result was rustic in the best and most honest sense of the word — uneven layers, frosting that went thick in some spots and thin in others, twenty candles planted in the top like a small field of light. What made it right wasn’t the presentation; it was the depth of the chocolate, the bitterness of the coffee underneath it, the faint tang of buttermilk holding the whole thing together. If you want to make the cake Clay made — the one that was sixty percent beautiful and one hundred percent his — this chocolate fudge cake is where you start.

Prep Time: 25 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour (plus cooling) | Servings: 12

Ingredients

2 cups all-purpose flour
2 cups granulated sugar
3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon kosher salt
2 large eggs, room temperature
1 cup buttermilk, room temperature
1 cup strong brewed coffee, cooled
1/2 cup vegetable oil
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
For the fudge frosting:
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
3 1/2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
1/3 cup heavy cream, plus more as needed
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
Pinch of salt

Instructions

Heat the oven. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Grease two 9-inch round cake pans, line the bottoms with parchment paper, and grease the parchment. Dust lightly with cocoa powder and tap out any excess.
Combine dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder, and salt until fully combined and no lumps of cocoa remain.
Mix the wet ingredients. In a separate bowl or large measuring cup, whisk together the eggs, buttermilk, cooled coffee, vegetable oil, and vanilla extract until smooth and uniform.
Make the batter. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and whisk until just combined — a few small lumps are fine. Do not overmix. The batter will be thin; that’s normal and right.
Bake. Divide the batter evenly between the prepared pans. Bake for 32–36 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out with just a few moist crumbs. Rotate the pans halfway through baking.
Cool completely. Let the cakes cool in the pans on a wire rack for 15 minutes, then turn out onto the rack and cool completely before frosting — at least 1 hour. Do not rush this step.
Make the frosting. Beat the softened butter on medium-high speed for 3 minutes until pale and fluffy. Add the cocoa powder and beat for 1 more minute. Reduce speed to low and add the powdered sugar in three additions, alternating with the heavy cream. Add the vanilla and salt. Increase speed to medium-high and beat for 2 minutes until the frosting is smooth and spreadable. Add an extra splash of cream if needed to loosen.
Frost the cake. Place one cake layer on your serving plate. Spread a generous, uneven layer of frosting over the top — don’t worry about perfection. Set the second layer on top and frost the top and sides. Thick in some spots and thin in others is just fine. It’s rustic. It’s honest. It’s good.
Add candles if you have them. Serve at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chocolate Fudge Cake — The One Clay Made for His Own Birthday