One-Bowl Chocolate Cake

Dolores Gutierrez — Luis's mother — died on May 5, 2036. She was eighty-three. She died on my birthday, which means my birthday will forever be her death day, and the overlap is the cruelty of calendars that don't negotiate and dates that don't care about the feelings of the living. Dolores was quiet and steady and she loved me from the moment Luis brought me home, and the loving-from-the-moment is the gift that mothers-in-law give and that daughters-in-law rarely acknowledge. I acknowledge it now. I light a fifth candle at St. Patrick's — Rosa, Alejandro, Javier, Javier, and now Dolores. Five candles. The altar is filling. The filling is the aging. The aging is the candles.

I did not make tres leches for my birthday this year. I made caldo de res — the comfort soup, the loss soup, the soup for the day when your birthday is also a funeral.

The five children: Carlos (the small eldest) had been killed in Juárez in 2008 at age 19 in the small cartel-violence. The small loss is the small permanent-wound. The small four-surviving-children are: Roberto Jr. (now 38, runs the small bakery’s wholesale operation, married with three kids), Elena (now 35, a small ER nurse, married with two kids), Mateo (now 32, a small high school teacher, married with one kid), and Sofia (now 28, the small bakery’s manager, engaged).

The small Mexican-cooking-tradition runs through the small kitchen-and-bakery. The small mole, the small chiles rellenos, the small tamales-at-Christmas, the small posada-foods, the small Three Kings Day rosca. The small recipes have come down through four-and-five generations of the small Gutierrez-Hernandez women.

The small El Paso-Juárez border-cousin-network continues. The small Juárez-side of the family (Maria Elena’s mother’s family) crosses the small bridge for the small family-events. The small cross-border family-life has been the small constant. The small post-Carlos-killing has changed the small relationship to the small Juárez-side.

The small Panadería Rosa in the small downtown El Paso continues to be the small business. The small bakery operates from four AM to six PM six days a week. The small pan dulce, the small empanadas, the small bolillos, the small conchas are the small daily-product. The small bakery is the small Maria Elena and Luis Gutierrez inheritance from Maria Elena’s parents.

The small twelve-grandchildren are the small joy-of-the-small-final-third-of-life. The small grandkids cycle through the small Sunday-bakery-and-Maria-Elena-house from morning to evening. The small intergenerational kitchen runs on the small Sunday.

Luis (the small husband) operates the small bakery’s production side while Maria Elena runs the small front-of-house and the small recipe-development. The small forty-year-relationship (married against both small families’ wishes) has been the small life-partnership. The small Javier-loss in 1993 had been the small permanent wound the small family carries. The small marriage-survived.

I made caldo de res on my birthday this year, and I do not regret it. But the day after — when the candles at St. Patrick’s had burned down and the soup pot had been washed and Luis had gone quiet the way he goes quiet after his mother — I made this cake. Not to celebrate. To have something to do with my hands. At the panadería we make everything from scratch with three mixing bowls and a stand mixer and forty years of muscle memory, but this cake asks for one bowl and nothing else, and sometimes one bowl is all the grief leaves you with.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 50 minutes | 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 fine salt
2 large eggs, room temperature
1 cup buttermilk
1 cup hot strong-brewed black coffee
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Powdered sugar or simple chocolate glaze, for finishing (optional)

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Heat oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease and flour two 9-inch round cake pans, or one 9x13-inch baking pan. Line the bottoms with parchment if you have it.
Combine dry ingredients. In one large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder, and salt until no lumps remain.
Add the wet ingredients. To the same bowl, add the eggs, buttermilk, oil, and vanilla. Stir with a wooden spoon or spatula until just combined — do not overmix.
Add the coffee. Carefully pour in the hot coffee and stir until the batter is smooth and uniform. The batter will be thin; this is correct.
Pour and bake. Divide the batter evenly between the prepared pans. Bake for 30–35 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out with just a few moist crumbs.
Cool completely. Let the cakes rest in the pans for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack. Cool fully before glazing or dusting with powdered sugar. Do not rush this part.
Finish and serve. Dust with powdered sugar, or drizzle with a simple ganache made from 1/2 cup warm heavy cream poured over 4 ounces of chopped dark chocolate, stirred smooth. Slice and serve at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

One-Bowl Chocolate Cake — The Birthday That Became a Funeral