The Laursens

I was feeling ambitious and adventurous and hearing Julia Child in my head, “No explanations, no excuses, no apologies!” So I decided to make Lonn’s favorite, Chocolate Cake. More specifically, the Deep Chocolate Cake from the Beaumont Junior League cookbook. (*Thanks Dana, best cookbook ever, aside from a few complaints…see footnote.) I’ve never made it before, but the picture is so beautiful that I’ve had it open to that page on a cookbook stand in my kitchen for, oh, about a year.

I have all the dry ingredients for the cake mixed together in my giant yellow mixing bowl and get ready to add the oil, eggs and such. When I start the beaters and a giant cloud of chocolate powder-y substance fills the air, and a coughing/ laughing fit ensues . Grab my damp hand towel to cover bowl, which I learned in class, which I obviously forgot, and begin again. I now have the most beautiful, chocolate gooey mixture in my beautiful, giant, yellow mixing bowl. Wow, it seemed like a lot of batter but, I figured, it did look like a big cake! Oh well, into the oven they go.

Onto the chocolate ganache Icing. Low heat; stir, stir, stir. About ninety seconds later I smelled it; the unmistakable stench of charred chocolate. NO!! I turn back the heat. I quickly realized it was not the ganache, but smoke coming out of the back burner…from the oven. NO!!

I quickly opened the oven door and sure enough, the chocolate cake mix had bubbled over, all over, the bottom of the stove. My brain goes into hyper- save-the-cake mode. Ok, grab something to put under the pans to catch the bubbling over goo. My cookie sheet is nowhere to be found. Ahh, the pizza pan! Never mind the holes in it to allow for an evenly cooked crust! I slowly remove one cake pan and place on the cookie sheet, which is placed directly over the oven door which is wide open. I then realized I didn’t have anything else for the other cake pan, so I decided to change course. I slowly removed the other cake pan, runny cake batter spilling over, all the way to the sink. I gently tipped the pan and the top layer that had cooked to a brownie substance slid right off into the sink. I sat it down on a black dishtowel and moved onto the next one. As I turned back to the oven, I realized more cake batter had now dripped from the pan, onto the pizza sheet, through the holes and onto my oven door. Smoke is continuing to billow from the stove and my house smells like rancid, smoky gross-ness. I repeat the removal of the top layer from the second cake and place the remaining cake on the counter, next to its evil twin. I ran around the house opening windows and doors and bring the fan into the kitchen. The ‘Smoke in the Apartment Threat Level’ has now been downgraded from ‘You Might Die’ to “You’re Just an Idiot that Can’t Bake.’

Meanwhile, I had to get the burnt chocolate out of the oven or the smell would saturate every meal I planned to mess up in the future. I grabbed my white plastic spoon; it seemed a good idea at the time. I scraped and scraped removing chunks of chocolate and they were flying all over me, the oven and the kitchen, but I was making progress; until I noticed another smell. You guessed it, burned plastic. It smelled like the exhaust of a rubber factory was being pumped through my air conditioner.

I’m shooing Holly and Prada, as they have taken a serious interest in my experiment and were probably wondering why I’m giggling and squealing. I take a quick glance at the clock. Phew, Lonn won’t be home for at least thirty more minutes. I put the cakes back in the oven. I looked around the kitchen to assess where I should begin on the discarding of signs of a Code Red in the kitchen. The fan was still out and all of the windows were still open. I had a lot of evidence to dispose of, and little time.

I was the cleaning tornado for a whopping ten minutes before the door opened and Lonn walked in. Busted. He was smiling the minute he looked up; I was certain it was only because he was happy to see me. Wrong. He walked into the kitchen and looked around, grinning the whole time. Crispy chocolate chunks were all over the floor. Chocolate goo was on the floor, trashcan side, trashcan lid, three different cabinets, the refrigerator, the stove and two-thirds of my counter top. It looked like a painting by Pollock. There was goo in the kitchen sink and all over every utensil and dish I had out. There was a chalky light brown powder coat on all flat surfaces. I begin to tell him the story and as I did, he found chocolate on my jeans, my shirt, my elbow and face. Lonn likes to call me “Messy Mama.” I have no idea where he gets that nickname.

The cake turned out terrific somehow. We got a little impatient and didn’t want to wait for the ganache to sit long enough, so it’s a little messy but dang, it has been delicious. (see pictures)

*I have decided there must be some conspiracy of the Master Cooking Fairies to have recipes that make QUADRUPLE batches of cake batter just to create moments like these for us newbie bakers!
That’s ok though, Julia has taught me to embrace my mistakes and enjoy the experience….and that we definitely are!