German Chocolate Cake for Dad

When I was a child we had German chocolate cake for my dad's birthday every year. It was notable not only because it was his favorite, but because my mom purchased it from the supermarket's bakery instead of making it from scratch like she did other cakes. (Of course, cake was notable to begin with because ours was a macrobiotics-influenced natural foods household where sweets were reserved for special occasions. Even then, mom baked with honey, whole wheat flour and even tofu.)

Mom would arrive home from the store the evening before or the day of dad's birthday with the cake in a domed clear plastic carrier, tall and extravagantly decorated with rosettes around the edges and a red maraschino cherry on top. After dinner the cake would be plated and brought to the table; lights would be dimmed, candles lit and Happy Birthday sung. We'd sit around the table enjoying generous slices of cake with dad's favorite accompaniment, Dreyer's Grand French Vanilla ice cream, giggling and joking as the sugar made us increasingly giddy.

Over the weekend I made this cake in memory of my dad, who would have celebrated his 70th birthday had he received the liver and kidney transplant for which he was at the top of the waiting list in 2001. As I assembled the ingredients into a cake resembling those from his birthday celebrations years ago, I was reminded of how generous he was about sharing and celebrating food. I'll never forget how, in his last days, he offered his ICU nurse some of his ice chips "because they're so good." Those ice chips were all he was allowed to take by mouth (and were all the more precious because he was allotted only tiny amounts a few times per day) but he insisted on sharing the icy goodness. (That nurse has since become one of my dearest friends and I can't thank her enough for taking such good care of my dad.)

There's not a doubt in my mind that dad would have wanted you to have a slice of this German chocolate cake -- because it's so good. I hope you'll make and share it with someone you love.

And, as you make your New Year's resolutions, please consider designating yourself as an organ donor. Be sure to discuss and formalize your plans with your loved ones so that they're comfortable honoring your wishes. For more information, please visit the United Network for Organ Sharing (UNOS).

German Chocolate Cake

Makes one 9-inch four layer, or 6-inch six layer, cake.

I'd never made German chocolate cake and wanted it to be perfect, so I consulted several cookbooks and food blogs before settling on this recipe from David Lebovitz, who adapted it from his former Chez Panisse colleague Mary Jo Thoresen.

I made no changes to the cake layers or syrup, but increased the amounts of pecans and coconut in the filling. I also used my own recipe for chocolate icing, as I prefer a lighter chocolate buttercream over the dark chocolate ganache. The latter is a bit intense for the delicate rum-infused cake and nutty filling.

I can understand why my mom bought a German chocolate cake rather than make it from scratch, as this is a multi-step recipe that will take most of a day to make. But the result is well worth the time and effort.

For the cake:

2 ounces bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, chopped

2 ounces unsweetened chocolate, chopped

6 tablespoons water

8 ounces (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 1/4 cup + 1/4 cup sugar

4 large eggs, separated

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

1 cup buttermilk, at room temperature

1 teaspoon vanilla extract or vanilla bean paste

For the syrup:

1 cup water

2/4 cup sugar

2 tablespoons dark rum

For the filling:

1 cup heavy cream

1 cup sugar

3 large egg yolks

3 ounces butter, cut into small pieces

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt (omit if using pre-salted pecans)

1 1/2 cups pecans, toasted and chopped (note: I used store bought pecans that were roasted and salted)

2 cups shredded unsweetened coconut, toasted

For the icing:

4 ounces unsweetened chocolate, chopped

3 cups powdered (confectioners') sugar

4 ounces (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened but still cool and slightly firm to the touch

3 tablespoons milk, plus more if needed, at room temperature

1 teaspoon vanilla extract or vanilla bean paste

1/8 teaspoon fine grain salt

To make the cake layers:

1. Heat oven to 350° F. Grease two 9-inch or three 6-inch cake pans and line the bottoms with rounds of parchment or wax paper.

2. Melt both chocolates together with the 6 tablespoons of water. Use either a double-boiler or a microwave. Stir until smooth, then set aside until room temperature.

3. In the bowl of an electric mixer, or by hand, beat the butter and 1 1/4 cup of the sugar until light and fluffy, about 5 minutes. Beat in the melted chocolate, then the egg yolks one at a time.

4. Sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt.

5. Mix in half the dry ingredients into the creamed butter mixture, then the buttermilk and vanilla extract, then the rest of the dry ingredients. (Tip: I stir the vanilla into the buttermilk before adding it to the batter.) 

6. In a separate metal or glass bowl, beat the egg whites until the hold soft, droopy peaks. Beat int he 1/4 cup sugar until stiff.

7. Fold about one third of the egg whites into the cake batter to lighten it, then fold in the remaining egg whites until there's no trace of egg white visible.

8. Divide the batter into the prepared cake pans, smooth the tops, and bake for about 35 minutes for 6-inch cakes or 45 minutes for 9-inch cakes, until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool cake layers completely. 

While the cakes are baking and cooling, make the syrup, filling and icing.

To make the syrup:

1. In a small saucepan, heat the sugar and water until the sugar has melted. Remove from heat and stir in the dark rum.

To make the filling:

1. Put the 3 ounces butter, salt, toasted coconut and pecan pieces in a large bowl.

2. Combine the cream, sugar and egg yolks in a medium saucepan. Heat the mixture and cook, stirring constantly and scraping the bottom as you stir, until the mixture begins to thicken and coats a spoon (an instant-read thermometer will read 170° F).

3. Pour the hot custard immediately into the pecan-coconut mixture and stir until the butter is melted. Cool completely to room temperature (the mixture will thicken).

To make the icing:

1. In a small saucepan over very low heat (or a double boiler set over but not touching simmering water in the bottom pan), melt the chocolate, stirring constantly, until it's melted and smooth. Remove from heat and let cool to room temperature.

2. In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, combine the powdered sugar, butter, 3 tablespoons milk, vanilla and salt. Beat on low speed until combined, about 1 minute. Stop the mixer and scrape down the sides of the bowl. Increase the speed to medium and beat for 2 minutes, then reduce the speed to low. Add the chocolate and beat until combined, then increase the speed to medium and beat for 1 minute more.

3. If the frosting is dry, add more milk, 1 teaspoon at a time, until it is creamy but still holds peaks. (Makes 2 generous cups.)

To assemble the cake:

1. Remove the cake layers from the pans and cut in half horizontally, using a serrated bread knife.

2. Set the first cake layer on a cake plate. Brush well with syrup. Spread 1/2 to 3/4 cup of the coconut filling over the cake layer, making sure to reach the edges. Set another cake layer on top.

3. Repeat, brushing each cake layer with syrup, then spreading coconut filling over each layer, including the top.

4. Ice the sides with the chocolate icing, then pipe a decorative border of chocolate icing around the top, encircling the coconut topping, and at the base of the cake if desired.

Winter Cake

This cake was almost an afterthought. The night before my husband's birthday in November, after dinner reservations had been confirmed and gifts wrapped, it occurred to me that I hadn't thought about a birthday cake.

I fretted for few moments -- everyone should have a special cake on their birthday, how could I have overlooked such an important detail -- before realizing that I had all of the ingredients for his favorite cake: vanilla sponge layered with berries and cream. Even better, the cake looks impressive but is a breeze to make and decorate (the latter is decidedly not one of my strengths).

I didn't even have to stay up much past my bedtime. But don't tell my husband. For all he knows, I labored for hours.

Winter Berries and Cream Cake

This cake seems like summer at first glance, but raspberry season extends through November. Take another look and the bright red berries against a blanket of snow white cream are the very picture of winter. Adorned with sprigs of seasonal greenery, this dessert would be a festive but light finale to a holiday meal.

The vanilla sponge is an adaptation of the vanilla cupcake recipe from The Magnolia Bakery Cookbook, which I lightened by separating the eggs, beating the whites and folding them into the batter at the end. I also added salt, an important but apparently overlooked ingredient. The whipped cream filling and frosting are old standbys in my kitchen.

For the cake:

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened but still cool to the touch
2 cups sugar
4 large eggs, separated (tip: separate the eggs when they're cold, then bring to room temperature)
1 1/2 cups self-rising flour
1 1/4 cups all purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 cup whole milk, room temperature
2 teaspoons vanilla extract or vanilla bean paste

For the frosting and filling:

2 cups heavy cream

2 teaspoons superfine sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract or vanilla bean paste

1 tablespoon seedless raspberry jam
1/2 to 1 pint fresh raspberries, rinsed and dried

Make the cake layers:
1. Heat oven to 350° F. Grease three 6-inch (or two 9-inch) cake pans, dust lightly with flour and line the bottoms with parchment rounds. Set aside.

2. In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add the egg yolks one at a time, beating well after each addition.

3. Meanwhile, whisk together the flours and salt. In a separate bowl or cup, stir the vanilla into the milk. Add the flour to the butter mixture in three parts, alternating with the milk, and beat until the batter just comes together. Set aside.

4. In a separate bowl that you are sure is clean and dry, beat the egg whites until stiff peaks form and no traces of runny white remain at the bottom of the bowl. Stir a third of the egg whites into the cake batter to lighten it, then gently fold in the remaining whites until no visible traces of whites remain.

5. Divide the batter among the prepared pans and bake on the middle oven rack for 20 to 25 minutes or until a cake tester or toothpick inserted into the middle comes out clean. Cool the cakes in their pans for 10 minutes, then remove from pans to cool completely on wire racks (be sure to remove the parchment from the cakes). The cakes can be wrapped tightly in plastic wrap and kept overnight before decorating and serving.

Make the filling and frosting:
1. Stir the cream and sugar together in a large mixing bowl and chill, with the whisk, for 30 minutes in the refrigerator or 10 minutes in the freezer.

2. Once the cream is chilled, add the vanilla, stir a few times and beat on increasing speed until soft peaks begin to form. It's important to under whip the cream because it will stiffen when you stir in the raspberry jam and decorate the cake.

3. Transfer about a third of the whipped cream to a medium bowl and stir in the jam until it's evenly distributed. Add more jam as desired to achieve a deeper color and stronger flavor.

Assemble the cake:
1. Set each cake on a flat surface, bottom side down, and use a long serrated knife to level the tops if they've domed or baked unevenly (my oven is not level, so everything I bake tips to one side). Cut each cake in half horizontally to make two layers. You'll end up with the six layer cake pictured above if you've used three 6-inch pans, or a four layer cake if you've used two 9-inch cake pans.

2. Place one cake layer in the middle of a serving plate or cake stand. Slide some parchment strips just under and all around the edges of the cake to keep the serving plate free of crumbs and extra frosting.

3. Spread enough filling to evenly cover the cake layer by a depth of about 1/4 to 1/2 inch. Repeat with the remaining cake layers, but don't top the final layer with the raspberry cream filling.

4. Using an offset spatula, spread the whipped cream over the sides and top of the cake. You should have enough for 1/2 to 3/4 inch of frosting. Use the spatula to make thick swoops in the cream if desired. Arrange raspberries around the top edge of the cake. (You'll use about 1/2 pint for a 3-inch layer cake, and closer to a pint for a 9-inch cake.) Gently remove the parchment paper strips from between the bottom layer and the plate, and serve.

Note: if desired, you could spread a very thin crumb layer of whipped cream over the cake and let it set in the refrigerator for 30 minutes to an hour before covering it with thick swoops of the remaining cream.

Birthday Sushi

When I was a small child, my family observed a Japanese style macrobiotic diet about which my mom was enthusiastic and thorough. When I suffered from colic and sleeplessness as a baby, mom took me to a macrobiotic consultant whose written analysis and recommendations I still have (but don't follow). Mom even researched, wrote and illustrated a book manuscript about seaweed. And don't get me started on her homemade pan fried onigiri -- brown rice balls flecked with sesame seeds and dipped in soy sauce. Heaven.

Though my parents became more conventional and relaxed about our diet and lifestyle as we grew older, we never abandoned our love of Japanese food. I've always been partial to oyakodon, and mom loved vegetarian sushi rolls.

So, last week, in observance of what would have been my mom's 70th birthday, we went out for sushi. We wanted to go to Takami because the restaurant is donating 100% of its profits to the Red Cross Japanese Relief Fund, but for logistical reasons we ended up at our local favorite, Sushi Sei. Their sushi chefs are all from Japan, and we were relieved to learn that their families back home are safe and accounted for.

Given the situation in Japan, and that our meal was in remembrance of my mom, it was a somber celebration of life; of picking ourselves up and moving forward, stronger from (and never forgetting) our losses. Food is life, and culture, and place, and memory, all of which we are grateful for.

The meal was also an opportunity to play with my new (to me) camera for the first time. Though the following photos are rife with problems (Frankenfood, anyone?), it's remarkable that I was able to capture images at all, given the restaurant's dim green and red lighting.

My amazing husband.

Best. Tuna Tataki. Ever.



Crispy Rice Balls with Spicy Tuna and Avocado



Grilled Salmon and Scallops with Salt and Lemon
(Ack! Too much bokeh! Take a step back, Maggie.)

We made sure to leave room for birthday cake. We headed over to Zane's, which may as well be one of those restaurants that serves food in complete darkness. As you can see, mom's birthday candle was basically the only source of light.

We made a little birthday wish for mom, then devoured the most decadent chocolate layer cake on the planet. Warmed. With chocolate sauce and vanilla ice cream. Mom would have approved; even in her macrobiotics days, she always appreciated a treat.

Happy birthday, mom. We love and miss you.

Tavern

Tavern is the kind of place where you'll have an impeccable dining experience, but nary a decent photograph to show for it. (Unless, of course, you go there in the daytime, when the larder and atrium dining room are flooded with light so as to showcase the Jeffrey Alan Marks design and decor.)

Photo: Tavern / aackstudio

Photo: Tavern / aackstudio

Go there for dinner, and you'll marvel at the familiar yet surprising comfort of the food. (Seared Albacore over beluga lentils? Of course.) The thoughtful and generous service. (Responsive and perfectly-timed? Yes. Hovering and solicitous? No.) The sumptuous New-York-chic-meets-California-cool surroundings. (A testament to chef/owner Suzanne Goin's signature guest-at-a-dinner-party feel, you wonder, when can I move in?)

Of course, you'll expect nothing less -- Tavern is, after all, the brainchild of Goin and Caroline Styne, of Lucques and A.O.C. -- and you'll know that you won't do it justice with your pedestrian words and wretched photographs. (In my defense, the restaurant is much too dark and my camera flash -- a no-no to begin with -- much too "hot.")

So you'll simply say that your birthday dinner at Tavern marks your best restaurant dining experience in L.A. to date. That you wish Tavern had been Tavern and not Hamburger Hamlet when you lived in Brentwood. That on second thought, maybe not, because you'd be broke. That if you were the kind of person who didn't have to worry about going broke, you'd hire Jeffrey Alan Marks to design and decorate your house. And Suzanne Goin to teach you how to cook, because your Sunday Suppers at Lucques cookbook just isn't the same.

You'll order two disparate appetizers and banter with your husband about which is better. (Hint: it's the one in which you're indulging at that very moment.)

Roasted Peaches with Burrata, Prosciutto and Pine Nuts (Best. Burrata. Ever.)

Seared Albacore with Beluga Lentils, Green Olives and Salsa Verde



You'll pass your shockingly ill-photographed entrees back and forth, marveling at the perfection of the pork shoulder in all its brined-for-72-hours glory, and how its richness is tempered by the avocado salsa that is bright and refreshing and not at all heavy.



Pork Confit with Corn Pudding, Mojo Criollo and Avocado Salsa

You'll implore your husband to rein you in as you dig for caramelized leeks and onions in Goin's riff on Chicken Dijon.

The Devil's Chicken with Braised Leeks, Onions and Mustard Breadcrumbs



You'll have saved room for pastry chef Breanne Varela's famed Snickers Bar dessert, which will be dropped at your table with a complimentary plate of her cookies, adorned with a birthday candle. And you'll breathe a sigh of relief that although Tavern isn't the least bit pretentious, it isn't the sort of  place where the staff sings to you.

Breanne's Cookies


Can we talk about the Snickers Bar for a minute?


Snickers Bar with Salted Peanut Caramel and Vanilla Ice Cream
(Photo: starchefs.com)



It was mind-blowing. Best. Dessert. Ever. It's what the Momofuku Chocolate-Malt Cake wishes it could be. And were Tavern that sort of place, we'd have licked the plate clean.

Do go to Tavern, and do bring a jacket. It's dreadfully over-air conditioned -- its only flaw.