S’mores Cake Recipe — The Chocolate That Belongs to the Living

Dia de los Muertos at Rivera's. Year two of the ofrenda — the altar in the corner of the dining room, bigger this year. More photographs, more marigolds, more candles, more memory. Captain Diaz. Maria's father. Alejandro's grandmother. And a new addition: Thompson, the firefighter from Station 19 who introduced me to black-eyed peas on New Year's and who retired last year and died in April of a heart attack while fishing at Saguaro Lake. Thompson who ate more green chile stew than any human alive. Thompson who called me "Chef" before anyone else did. Thompson who showed up.

I made mole for the ofrenda — the second year of making it alone, without Elena beside me. The cinnamon is right now. The chocolate timing is mine. The mole is not Elena's mole — it will never be Elena's mole, because Elena's mole carries fifty years of instinct that I cannot replicate — but it is Marcus's mole, and Marcus's mole is worthy of the ofrenda. Elena tasted it and said nothing. The nothing that means: it is right. You do not need me anymore. But we both know that is not true. I will always need her. The mole will always need her. Even when my hands make it, her hands are in it.

Sofia helped with the ofrenda — arranging the flowers, lighting the candles, placing the photographs. She asked about Thompson. I told her about the black-eyed peas, about the green chile stew, about the way Thompson would finish a bowl and hold it up and say "Rivera, you are the reason I stay alive." She said, "That is a lot of responsibility." She is ten. She understands that feeding people is not just cooking — it is keeping them here. The food is the tether. The meal is the reason to show up tomorrow.

Customers noticed the ofrenda. Some took photographs. Some asked about the people in the pictures. Some sat quietly and looked at the candles and the marigolds and thought about their own dead. One woman — a regular named Mrs. Gutierrez who comes every Wednesday — brought a photograph of her late husband and asked if she could add it to the altar. I said yes. Of course yes. The ofrenda is not mine. The ofrenda belongs to everyone who has lost someone they loved. The ofrenda is Rivera's at its most essential: a table where the living and the dead eat together.

Diego asked why we put food on the altar for dead people. I said, "Because the dead still need to know we are cooking for them." He said, "That is weird but I like it." Seven years old and he has summarized the entire theology of Dia de los Muertos in seven words.

After the mole is finished — after the cinnamon and the chocolate have found each other and the ofrenda candles are burning and the photographs are watching — the children still need something sweet, and the living still need to be fed. Thompson would have called this cake "unnecessary in the best possible way." The chocolate is the thread that runs from the mole on the altar to this pan on the counter: both are made of fire and dark sweetness, both are offerings, both are love in a form you can taste. I make this for Sofia and Diego, and I make it for everyone at the table who is still here, which is the whole point.

S’mores Cake

Prep Time: 25 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 12

Ingredients

• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 cup graham cracker crumbs, plus more for topping
• 2 cups granulated sugar
• 3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
• 2 teaspoons baking soda
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1 teaspoon fine sea salt
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 2 large eggs, room temperature
• 1 cup buttermilk
• 1 cup strong brewed coffee, cooled
• 1/2 cup neutral oil (vegetable or canola)
• 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
• 1 1/2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips, divided
• 2 cups mini marshmallows
• 1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened
• 3 cups powdered sugar
• 1/4 cup heavy cream
• 2 tablespoons cocoa powder (for frosting)

Instructions

1. Preheat and prep. Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease two 9-inch round cake pans and line the bottoms with parchment. Dust the sides with graham cracker crumbs and tap out the excess.
2. Mix dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together flour, 1 cup graham cracker crumbs, sugar, cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder, salt, and cinnamon until no lumps remain.
3. Mix wet ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk together eggs, buttermilk, cooled coffee, oil, and vanilla until smooth and fully combined.
4. Combine batter. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry and stir with a wooden spoon or rubber spatula until just combined — do not overmix. Fold in 1 cup of the chocolate chips. The batter will be thin.
5. Bake. Divide the batter evenly between the prepared pans. Bake 32–35 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out with a few moist crumbs. Cool in the pans 10 minutes, then turn onto a wire rack to cool completely.
6. Make the frosting. Beat butter on medium-high speed until pale and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add powdered sugar and 2 tablespoons cocoa powder and mix on low to combine. Add heavy cream one tablespoon at a time, beating until the frosting is smooth and spreadable.
7. Melt chocolate drizzle. In a small bowl, microwave the remaining 1/2 cup chocolate chips in 30-second intervals, stirring between each, until fully melted and glossy.
8. Assemble. Place one cake layer on a serving plate and spread a generous layer of frosting across the top. Scatter a handful of mini marshmallows over the frosting. Set the second layer on top and frost the entire outside of the cake with the remaining frosting.
9. Top and finish. Press mini marshmallows across the top of the cake. Using a kitchen torch or the broiler set to high, toast the marshmallows until golden and blistered. Drizzle the melted chocolate over the top in a zigzag pattern and finish with a final scatter of graham cracker crumbs. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 610 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 26g | Carbs: 91g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 420mg