Chocolate Cake Recipe — Two Candles, One Kitchen, and the Birthday Cake I Baked Myself

I turned sixty-three this week. April twelfth, the same as every year, and this year the birthday was just me and Marvin, in the kitchen, with a brisket and two candles on a cake I baked myself because there is no one else to bake it, and that is fine, because the cake is not the point. The candles are not the point. The point is: I am sixty-three and I am still here and Marvin is still here and the kitchen is still warm and the stove still works and the virus has not entered this house and the disease has not yet taken the last of the man who used to write me birthday cards, and these facts — these small, unglamorous, beautiful facts — are the birthday gift.

Marvin looked at the cake and said, "Is it someone's birthday?" I said, "Mine." He said, "Happy birthday, Ruthie." He said my name. On my birthday, he said my name. I will take this as the gift it is — a sixty-third birthday card, unwritten, spoken, one sentence long, containing everything.

David and the grandchildren video-called. Ethan, six, sang happy birthday in a voice that cannot carry a tune but carries enough enthusiasm to compensate. Sophie, four, held up a drawing she had made — a stick figure at a stove, which is apparently my permanent portrait in the eyes of my grandchildren, and I accept this, because I am a woman at a stove, and there are worse things to be. Noah, one, banged a spoon on the table, which I chose to interpret as rhythmic celebration.

Rebecca called separately. She has been alone in Manhattan for weeks now, and the loneliness is in her voice — not the words, which are Rebecca's usual articulate, wry, literary observations about the absurdity of quarantine life — but in the pauses between the words, where the loneliness lives. I said, "When this is over, you will come for Shabbat and I will make you everything." She said, "When this is over, I will eat everything." I said, "That is the correct response."

I wrote a birthday blog post. Not about turning sixty-three — the number is a number, unremarkable — but about birthdays during quarantine, about how a birthday measured in food is the truest kind: one brisket, two candles, one husband who remembered my name. The post was shorter than usual. I am tired. I am cooking and caregiving and teaching and writing and existing, all in the same four walls, and the walls are closing in the way walls close when you cannot leave them. But the kitchen is still the kitchen. The stove is still warm. The brisket is still braising. I am sixty-three. I am still here.

The brisket was the dinner, but the cake was the act of faith — the insistence that a birthday still counts even when you are the one holding the mixer. I made a chocolate cake because chocolate is not negotiable on birthdays, and because Marvin has always loved chocolate cake, and because if I am going to bake my own birthday cake in a quiet kitchen during a pandemic, it is going to be a good one. This is that cake — dark, rich, almost unreasonably tender — and it asked very little of me, which on this particular birthday was exactly what I needed.

Chocolate Cake

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 30-35 minutes | Total Time: 55 minutes | Servings: 12

Ingredients

• 2 cups granulated sugar
• 1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
• 1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
• 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 2 large eggs
• 1 cup whole milk
• 1/2 cup vegetable oil
• 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
• 1 cup boiling water

Chocolate Frosting

• 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
• 2/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
• 3 cups powdered sugar
• 1/3 cup whole milk
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• Pinch of salt

Instructions

1. Preheat and prepare. Heat oven to 350°F. Grease and flour two 9-inch round cake pans, or line the bottoms with parchment paper.
2. Combine dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the sugar, flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder, and salt until no streaks of cocoa remain.
3. Add wet ingredients. Add the eggs, milk, oil, and vanilla extract. Beat on medium speed for about 2 minutes until smooth and well combined.
4. Add boiling water. Stir in the boiling water until incorporated — the batter will be very thin, and that is exactly right. This is what makes the cake impossibly moist.
5. Bake. Divide batter evenly between the two prepared pans. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
6. Cool completely. Let cakes cool in pans for 10 minutes, then turn out onto wire racks. Cool completely before frosting — patience here is non-negotiable.
7. Make the frosting. Beat the softened butter until creamy. Add the cocoa powder and mix on low until combined. Alternately add the powdered sugar and milk, beating on medium speed until smooth and spreadable. Mix in the vanilla and salt.
8. Frost the cake. Place one layer on a serving plate, spread frosting over the top, then set the second layer on top. Frost the top and sides. Add two candles if it is your birthday and you are still here.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 16g | Carbs: 68g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 380mg