Coca Cola Cake — The Sweet Finish to the Day We All Crossed the Stage

Graduation. May 25, 2018. Luis Jr. graduated from Bel Air High School.

I will try to write about it clearly, but I don't think I can, because the clarity I usually bring to bread and recipes fails me when it comes to watching my firstborn walk across a stage in a cap and gown and receive a diploma that represents eighteen years of a life that began in a hospital in El Paso when I was twenty-four and afraid and hopeful and holding a baby who was six pounds and had his father's face and his mother's stubbornness, and now that baby is eighteen and broad-shouldered and walking across a stage, and I am forty-one and sitting in the bleachers with the rest of the family and I am crying and I am not ashamed of the crying because this is what crying is for — for the moments when the pride is too large for the body and it leaks out through the eyes.

He walked across the stage. He shook the principal's hand. He looked at the audience and he found me — because he always finds me, because in any room, in any crowd, he looks for me first, and I think the Army will not break this habit, I think the looking-for-mother habit is wired deep, wired in the bones, wired in the same place where the stubbornness lives — and he smiled. The full smile. The Luis Jr. smile that uses his whole face. And I smiled back and my face was wet and the sky was blue and my son had graduated from high school, which is four years further than I went, which is the whole point of everything.

After the ceremony, he hugged me. In public. In front of his friends and his girlfriend Andrea and his teachers and the whole graduating class. He hugged me and said, "I did it, Mom." I said, "You did it." He said: "We did it." And the "we" broke me open because the "we" is true — we did it, he and I and Luis and Rosa and Alejandro and every tortilla I made at 3 AM and every conchas he carried to the van and every Sunday dinner and every prayer at St. Patrick's and every candle and every card and every silent, stubborn, beautiful Gutierrez act of showing up. We did it. Together. Across a bridge and eighteen years and a bakery and a war that hasn't started yet. We did it.

I made enchiladas for the graduation party. Not a big party — family, Carmen, a few of his friends, Andrea. The enchiladas were red — chile colorado, Rosa's recipe, because Rosa's recipe is the recipe for every occasion that matters, and graduation matters. The enchiladas were perfect. Rosa would have made them the same way. Rosa would have been sitting at the table. Rosa would have been crying and smiling and saying, "More chile, mija, más chile." And she was there. In the enchiladas. In the steam. In the way the chile colorado filled the kitchen with a warmth that was not just heat. She was there. She is always there.

After the enchiladas were gone and the table was loud with family and Andrea was laughing at something Alejandro said and Luis Jr. was sitting back in his chair with that full smile still on his face, I needed a dessert as generous and unfussy as the day itself — something that fed a crowd without asking too much of me, because I had already given everything I had to the chile colorado. This Coca Cola Cake is that dessert: a deeply chocolatey, tender sheet cake with a poured fudge frosting that goes straight from the pan to the table, no fuss, no ceremony, just sweetness big enough to match the occasion. Rosa would have had two slices.

Coca Cola Cake

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 50 minutes | Servings: 15

Ingredients

• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 2 cups granulated sugar
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter
• 1 cup Coca Cola (not diet)
• 1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
• 2 large eggs, lightly beaten
• 1/2 cup buttermilk
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 1 1/2 cups miniature marshmallows
• For the frosting:
• 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter
• 1/3 cup Coca Cola
• 3 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
• 3 1/2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 1 cup chopped toasted pecans (optional)

Instructions

1. Preheat and prepare. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Grease a 9x13-inch baking pan with butter or nonstick spray and set aside.
2. Combine dry ingredients. In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking soda, and salt. Make a well in the center and set aside.
3. Make the chocolate mixture. In a medium saucepan over medium heat, combine the butter, Coca Cola, and cocoa powder. Stir and bring just to a boil, then remove from heat immediately. Pour the hot mixture into the well of the dry ingredients and stir until mostly combined.
4. Add wet ingredients. Add the beaten eggs, buttermilk, and vanilla extract to the batter and stir until smooth. Fold in the miniature marshmallows — they will mostly melt into the cake as it bakes.
5. Bake. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and spread evenly. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean and the edges are set.
6. Make the frosting. About 5 minutes before the cake comes out of the oven, combine the butter, Coca Cola, and cocoa powder in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Stir until the butter is melted and the mixture is smooth. Remove from heat and whisk in the powdered sugar and vanilla until the frosting is glossy and pourable.
7. Frost immediately. As soon as the cake comes out of the oven, pour the warm frosting evenly over the hot cake. If using pecans, scatter them over the frosting right away. Allow the cake to cool in the pan for at least 20 minutes before slicing and serving directly from the pan.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 520 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 22g | Carbs: 78g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 210mg