By My birthday. May 5. Forty-three. In a pandemic. Luis burned the chilaquiles at 2:45 AM — thirty-one years of charred chilaquiles, and this year the burning was more comforting than ever because the burning is the constant, the one thing the pandemic cannot change. The virus can close the dining room and cancel the farmers' market and put masks on every face and fear in every heart, but it cannot stop Luis from burning chilaquiles at 2:45 AM on May 5, because the burning is constitutional, it is in the bylaws of the Gutierrez marriage, it is the Article One of our partnership: Luis shall burn the chilaquiles. Maria Elena shall eat them. Neither party shall comment on the burning. This is the way.
The children's gifts arrived in pandemic format: Isabella wrote the annual letter (this year's theme: how the bakery is a hospital for the community's spirit, which made me cry, naturally). Sofia presented the meal kit revenue report (one hundred and sixty-two dollars in profit in the first month, which she describes as "promising but scalable," and I describe as "amazing"). Diego built a device that I think is an automatic mask dispenser — it hangs by the bakery door and releases a mask when you pull a lever, like a gumball machine for pandemic necessities. Camila sang "Mama at Forty-Three." New lyrics: "She's forty-three and masks are free, she bakes the bread for you and me." The lyrics incorporate pandemic vocabulary. She is seven. She is living in a pandemic and writing songs about it, and the songs are both tragic and hilarious, which is the only appropriate tone for seven-year-old pandemic art.
Luis Jr. called from the deployment. He said: "Happy birthday, Mom. Forty-seven days." Forty-seven days until he comes home. Forty-seven days. I have been counting since the day he left — two hundred and fifty-three days ago — and the number has been going down since the halfway point, and forty-seven is low, forty-seven is close, forty-seven is the number of conchas I will make him on the day he walks through the door.
I made my own tres leches cake. Because I am the best tres leches maker in this house and false modesty is a pandemic luxury I cannot afford. I blew out forty-three candles (we had to use birthday candles and tea lights because who has forty-three birthday candles during a pandemic?) and I wished for: home. Home for Luis Jr. Home for the bakery. Home for the world. Home, the word, the place, the feeling that the pandemic has redefined and also clarified, because home used to mean a house and now it means the people in the house, and the people are the home, and the home is the people, and the pandemic taught me that in the cruelest, most effective way.
I made the tres leches that year because I had to — no one else in this house was going to make it right, and forty-three deserves right. But on the ordinary days between birthdays, when I need something bright and forgiving and fast, this Lemon Dump Cake is my answer: tart and golden and assembled in about ten minutes, which is exactly how much patience I have left after a 2:45 AM charred-chilaquiles cleanup. It carries the same spirit as that birthday cake — a little indulgent, completely unapologetic, made by someone who knows her worth in the kitchen.
Lemon Dump Cake
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 55 minutes | Servings: 12
Ingredients
- 1 box (15.25 oz) yellow cake mix
- 1 can (21 oz) lemon pie filling
- 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, thinly sliced
- 1 cup lemon-lime soda (such as Sprite or 7-Up)
- 1 teaspoon lemon zest (optional, for extra brightness)
- Powdered sugar or whipped cream, for serving
Instructions
- Preheat. Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Lightly grease a 9×13-inch baking dish.
- Layer the filling. Spread the lemon pie filling evenly across the bottom of the prepared baking dish. If using, scatter the lemon zest over the top.
- Add the soda. Pour the lemon-lime soda gently over the lemon pie filling and let it settle for a moment.
- Top with cake mix. Sprinkle the dry yellow cake mix evenly over the filling layer. Do not stir — keep the layers distinct.
- Dot with butter. Arrange the thin slices of butter across the top of the dry cake mix, covering as much surface area as possible. The butter will melt and absorb into the mix as it bakes.
- Bake. Bake for 40–45 minutes, until the top is golden and set and the edges are bubbling. If any dry spots remain on top, press a few extra butter slices onto them and return to the oven for 5 more minutes.
- Cool and serve. Allow the cake to cool for at least 15 minutes before serving. Dust with powdered sugar or top with whipped cream. Serve warm or at room temperature.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 310 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 55g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 390mg