Nana’s Chocolate Fudge Cake

I’ve lost my son’s birth certificate. There! I’ve said it. It’s been missing for a while but being a positive person who genuinely believes everything works out in the end, I honestly thought it would turn up with a more concerted effort on my part to hunt it down. He called from the outback on his adventure around our big island recently asking if I’d found it, plotting adventures further afield. “No problem,” I assured him, “it’ll be here somewhere.” Spontaneously, one morning recently, I set about pulling my room and closet apart convinced I’d be imminently victorious. As the morning dragged on and the mess of my efforts grew it became painfully obvious that my positive attitude may well have been misplaced on this occasion. A birth certificate is perhaps the most important document we carry through life, A document denoting the moment in time of our entry into the world. Whilst I’m not the first mother in the world to lose one and certainly won’t be the last after, what was stretchin out to a full day of hunting, I was becoming deflated and frustrated and frankly very disappointed.

Always one to look for silver linings however, I was spring cleaning (in Autumn) as I went through things. The piles of donate, keep, dispose of were growing and if nothing else that alone would make the search worthwhile. As the hours ticked by and I moved from one shelf to the next box my focus was waning and the effort to keep searching methodically leaving me rapidly, until I opened a camphor chest that sits in a corner. One of those big, in interior decorating in the late 80’s early 90’s, that I’ve hung onto for its practicality if nothing else. It’s filled with my Nana’s recipe collection amongst other curio. It’s one of those piles carefully stored though, if I’m honest, in desperate need of curating. Easily distracted particularly at this point of the search, I sat down to have a little peruse through the collection. Small snippets from magazines and newspapers fell from books heavy with text but scant with imagery. Retro recipes featuring ingredients and concoctions not enjoyed readily today brought a smile to my face. I scooped up all the little cuttings as they fell from the well thumbed pages replacing them from where they tumbled except for one small frail piece of blue notepaper. As I reached for the faded scrap of paper the old fashioned handwriting caught my eye enveloping me in nostalgia. I could imagine her in her humble kitchen sitting at her table, back warmed by sun through the kitchen window as she jotted down the recipe on a small piece of paper possibly cut into note paper size from an old envelope or other packaging, a habit from her frugal ways. She could never have imagined, at the time, the jou this quicky penned list would bring me so many years hence. Though acutely unwell she left us quickly and unexpectedly. I wrote about her here and the legacy of memories she left us and indeed reflected on the lost recipes and regret I carry not having spent more time in the kitchen with her as an adult. I wish we’d cooked together as women, my young sons at our feet, her instructing me and imbuing me with her wisdom both food and life. I wish I hadn’t been consumed with misplaced confidence that we had time and that I truly appreciated the hands of time taking moments from us. Seeing this little slip of paper fluttering from between the collected pages of other clippings she’d accumulated was like pennies from heaven, life a feather fluttering down gifting me this sweet creation of hers and a gentle hand guiding me, one I miss immensely.

The irony of this find is not lost on me, while looking for the birth certificate of my first son, born 14 months before my Nana’s premature departure a handwritten note of hers finds it’s way into my hands serendipitously. As excited as I was to find her little note from the past, I couldn’t remember having enjoyed chocolate cake at that white laminate table. None the less, following her instructions to the letter that first time I cooked her cake making sense of some measurements and instructions translating them to modern quantities and techniques. After a not so patient wait for the completed cake to cool I took my first bite of the buttercream topped cake and was flooded with memories of a flavour and texture as familiar to me as the handwriting that had guided me to this point. It’s a strange thing the memories our senses carry and the visceral feelings and emotions they evoke, almost like the familiarity long seen handwriting carries, the knowing and identity ever present.

I’ve followed and shared Nana’s recipe to the letter, though I’ve doubled the cocoa and increased the butter a little. Unlike her suggestion I’ve cooked it in a loaf tin rather than a lamington pan, doubling the cooking time. She’s a sturdy loaf with a rich fudgy centre and sweet crisp crust. I have taken nana’s suggestion of a butter cream adornment though have added some melted dark chocolate for a smooth luscious frosting. It’s a meeting of the minds if you will, across the decades, her delicious creation with my embellishments.

Now to make a cuppa and have a slice of cake while I contemplate what to do about that missing birth certificate.

**If you’re lucky enough to still have a treasured elder in your life maybe you could make them a chocolate fudge loaf, take it with you to visit and ask them all the questions you’ve wondered about. Trust me It’ll be an afternoon well spent xx**

Ingredients:

80 gm butter softened

1 c caster sugar

½ c milk

1 egg beaten

1 ½ c self raising flour

2 Tb coco ( dutch process, unsweetened)

¼ tsp salt flakes

¼ tsp bicarb soda

¼ tsp baking powder

1 tsp vanilla paste/extract

¼ c boing water (I leave the kettle to cool slightly while I’m mixing. Adding that boiling water to a mixture containing an egg still scares me)

Method:

Preheat oven 180c. Grease and line a loaf tin with a few cms overhang each side to lift cooked cake from pan later.

In stand mixer with paddle attachment beat butter until colour is beginning to lighten and it’s starting to turn fluffy. Add sugar mixing on low until just combined, increase speed to med-high and cream until light in colour and fluffy. Pour in milk, vanilla and egg mixing on low until combined to prevent splashing, increase to medium for a minute once it looks like it wont splash out of the bowl. Stop mixer, tip in dry ingredients and again mix on low until everything’s mostly wet then increase to med-high and pour in boiling water. Whip for a minute until it reminds you of the smooth creamy consistency of a packet cake mixture. Pour into prepared tin and bake for 40 minutes.

Do not open the oven door before the 40 mins. If left alone this cake with rise to a pleasing even rounded top with a fine crack down the centre when ready. Open the door too early and she’ll collapse slightly in the middle. Still delicious but lacking that smooth satisfying top.

I’ve topped mine with a butter cream recipe adapted from Emelia Jackson’s most excellent book Frist Cream the Butter and Sugar. You might like to try it with a Ganache or even a simple chocolate glaze

Buttercream:

40 gm dark chocolate melted and cooled. Do this first an allow to cool while completing the other steps. It needs to be properly cooled with setting as it may set into fine grain like pieces of chocolate when combine with cool butter.

80 gm icing sugar

1 scant Tb cocoa

60 gm soft butter

2 tsp of full cream milk.

Pinch of salt flakes

Like the cake whip the butter to lite and fluffy. Add the dry ingredients, melted chocolate and milk, mixing on low until combined then increase heat to high for one minute or until increased in volume, fluffy and spreadable.