Dad's birthday dinner. Fifty-three. The man who had COVID a month ago, whose fever hit 103, whose oxygen dropped to 91, who lost eight pounds and couldn't climb stairs — sat at his own kitchen table on Saturday night and ate beer-braised short ribs with his son.
I cooked at the Cape Cod. Masked. Windows open. Cold air coming in from the backyard, because ventilation matters even when your fingers are numb. The kitchen was freezing but the food was hot and the company was alive, which is the only thing that matters.
The short ribs braised in Forest Floor for four hours. The potato pancakes were crispy and golden. The chocolate stout cake was three layers of dark perfection. I set the table: two places (Mom ate earlier so Dad and I could have this), Babcia's good plates, a candle.
Dad sat down slowly. He's still thin. Still tired by evening. But he sat, and he picked up his fork, and he ate a short rib, and he closed his eyes the way he does when food is right, and he said, "Thank God."
Not "good" or "these again" or any of his usual minimalist reviews. "Thank God." As in: thank God I'm alive to eat this. Thank God my son is here to cook it. Thank God for short ribs and kitchen tables and November and being fifty-three.
I said, "Happy birthday, Dad." He said, "Thank you, kid." Then he ate three more short ribs and two helpings of potato pancakes and a slice of cake, and the color was coming back to his face, and for the first time since October I felt like he was going to be okay. Really okay. Not surviving-okay. Living-okay.
After dinner, he said something. We were on the porch — cold, coats, beers. He said: "The week I was sick. Your mother brought me your soup every day. Every day. And I'd eat it and I could taste you in it. I could taste the pierogi lady from church —" (Mrs. Wojcik) "— and I could taste Mom —" (Babcia) "— and I thought: if this is what my kid can do with a pot and a chicken, he's going to be alright."
I turned twenty-four on November 22nd. Mom's box-mix cake. Dad's twenty-dollar bill. The card said: "Love you, kid. — Dad." Three words he's never written before. Three words that almost didn't get written. I will keep that card forever.
The three-layer chocolate stout cake I made that night was built for exactly one purpose: to tell my dad, without saying it out loud, that I was glad he was still here to eat it. If you don’t have four hours and a bottle of Forest Floor on hand, these Frosted Chocolate Delights capture that same spirit — dark, rich, unapologetically celebratory — in a fraction of the time. Make them for someone who deserves a little sweetness after a hard stretch. Make them and put them on Babcia’s good plates.
Frosted Chocolate Delights
Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 35 min + cooling | Servings: 24
Ingredients
- 1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened
- 1 cup granulated sugar
- 1 large egg
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 1/2 cup sour cream
- 1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
- 1/2 cup baking cocoa
- 1 teaspoon baking soda
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- Chocolate Frosting:
- 1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened
- 2 cups confectioners’ sugar
- 1/4 cup baking cocoa
- 3–4 tablespoons whole milk
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- Pinch of salt
Instructions
- Heat the oven. Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside.
- Cream butter and sugar. In a large bowl, beat the softened butter and granulated sugar together with a hand mixer on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 2–3 minutes.
- Add wet ingredients. Beat in the egg and vanilla extract until combined. Mix in the sour cream until the batter is smooth and uniform.
- Combine dry ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking cocoa, baking soda, and salt. Gradually add the dry mixture to the wet mixture, stirring just until a soft dough forms — do not overmix.
- Portion and bake. Drop rounded tablespoonfuls of dough onto the prepared baking sheets, spacing them about 2 inches apart. Bake for 10–12 minutes, until the tops are just set and the edges are firm. Do not overbake; they should stay soft in the center.
- Cool completely. Transfer cookies to a wire rack and let cool completely before frosting — at least 20 minutes. Frosting warm cookies will cause it to slide off.
- Make the frosting. Beat the softened butter until creamy. Add the confectioners’ sugar, cocoa, vanilla, and a pinch of salt. Mix on low, then add milk one tablespoon at a time until the frosting is smooth and spreadable.
- Frost and serve. Spread a generous layer of chocolate frosting over each cooled cookie. Serve on your best plates. These keep in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 3 days.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 188 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 27g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 115mg
About the cook who shared this
Jake Kowalski
Week 242 of Jake’s 30-year story
· Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Jake is a twenty-nine-year-old brewery worker, newlywed, and proud Polish-American from Milwaukee's Bay View neighborhood. He didn't start cooking until his grandmother Babcia Helen passed away and left behind a stack of grease-stained recipe cards. Now he makes pierogi from scratch, smokes meats on a balcony smoker his landlord pretends not to notice, and writes for guys who want to cook good food but don't know a roux from a rub.