This is a lonely image.
This second image is almost conceptually identical to the one above, yet somehow much more comforting. And that’s because I’d just eaten a portion of the (boozy) cake you see before you.
These are samples of my friend Alice’s marvelous, ridiculously scrumptious handiwork. They are tiny (mighty) whiskey-soaked chocolate cakes with Guinness ganache on top–we’ve started calling in Guinnache (©, p.s.). Anyhow, the tin is nearly empty, which is naturally a good sign. I thought I might brag a bit before they were totally gone, just in order to accomplish a couple things:
1. to confirm Alice’s divinity
2. to give you the opportunity to improve your life, and
2. to do so on St. Patrick’s Day, a day on which there always seems to be a plenitude of whiskey.
Alice and I have both made this recipe before and, accordingly, it’s become one of our favorites (the Guinnache is all her doing, though–I wouldn’t dream of taking credit for her ingenious creation). The cake recipe is from an amazing food blog which you may have heard of: Orangette, written and operated by Molly Wizenburg. She and her husband recently opened a restaurant in Seattle named Delancey, she has a relatively new cookbook out, and she writes monthly columns for Bon Appétite–in short, she’s a food goddess. This cake is further proof.
I first made it a little over a year ago with another wonderful friend, Brian; he’s off in Washington now, doing big bad research in the field of nuclear proliferation. But back then, when life was simple, we made cakes. Cakes with Bulleit in them.
That’s Brian, working magic; and that’s the final, heavenly product, with its tasty benefactor in the background.
If I remember correctly, we made that cake to blow off some stress. We particularly wanted to alleviate some of Brian’s, since he was embarking on his second semester of Reed College Thesis Hell and also being a SB senate mastermind (don’t ask me how he does/did it). We accomplished our goal and got a ridiculously amazing cake out of it to boot. I certainly remember the day fondly (that much is obvious if you click the “About” tab up above). To insure that your own cake-making experience is ridiculously happy and appropriately decadent, I recommend you put the full cup of bourbon on into the batter. Then sprinkle a little more on top, just for good measure. It’s so natural and so worth it.
Anyhow, one year later, this cake is doing its job once again, this time coming from Alice’s incredibly able hands, alleviating the aches and pains of a new generation of cracked-out, under-slept seniors. It has powers. It works magic, I tell you (and don’t you try and tell me it’s just the boozy aroma). So my words of advice to you are: quit pussyfooting around and make your life better–make this cake. Now. And listen to some Pogues while you’re at it.
Oh, and as far as the Guinnache goes, you might have to improvise. I think ours is destined to become a secret house specialty…