I made these chocolate darlings for the first anniversary of local darlings, Jason and Monica. I made their wedding cakes last summer, and wanted to toast their one-year with deliciosity. That may or may not be a word, but I blog it into being, even though I may have seen it on Urban Dictionary.
The chocolate wedding cake of yore included two combined recipes, one of which I lost (only to be found the next day), so I used this yummy chocolate stout cake recipe instead. It’s the same one I used for the Esq’s Birthday Car Bomb Cupcakes last year: chocolate stout cake filled with dark chocolate whiskey ganache and topped with Bailey’s buttercream frosting. I know. Don’t take them to friends in rehab.
The first year of marriage is supposed to be hard; everyone agrees. My first year with the ex-hubs was difficult, sure, but on the bright side we were already halfway through the whole marriage. With weariness, my newlywed clients will rub their temples and say, “You know, the first year is supposed to be hard but I had NO IDEA.” Couples use military war terms to describe the first 365 days with grim determination: Yes, limbs were lost and there’s this crippling depression, but you never give up. People talk about it like they looked Death in the face and accepted the Fate that was dealt them. Apparently, the first year is all about survival.
Seems like the couple in question had a lovely first year filled with happy life adventures, which is good because if they don’t make it, we mortals are doomed.
I replicated the cream cheese pound cake from the wedding (with strawberry coulis) since Jason isn’t a chocolate fan (in my house, we call that a dealbreaker). I am a straight-up fan of this particular pound cake. The cream cheese plumps up the richness – because three sticks of butter just isn’t enough – and gives the outside this crackly sweet crust, a nice counterpoint to the density within.
I encountered technical difficulties in the form of 1) my bundt pan and 2) the blender. Half of the cake split horizontally, making the presentation look like a lopsided smile. Had I been covering it in a glaze or chocolate ganache, it would have looked fine — but without smoke and mirrors, it looked like a Home Ec fail. Then the coulis oozed out the bottom of my blender because of, ah, operator error. So I gathered up all the coulis I could, dropped it on my cake plate and made a quick circle, then split the cake in half and presented the nicest side.
Kitchen DIY consists of thinking quickly, making do, and pretending it was part of the plan. Marriage is a little bit like that, too.