Costillas con alubias, chicharrones en taco aguacatoso, tostadas de pata, carnitas de cantina, tocino en el desayuno, tocino en el quiche, tocino en la ensalada. Se acaba el año del cerdo (del jabalí, para los puristas) que, si bien fue celebrado con alegres consumos porcinos, fue también el año de no postear por acá. Pero los relatos candentes de manjares salivables regresan al aire desde ya. Fotos varias serán rescatadas del archivo; recetas propias y ajenas serán documentadas cual solía ser la tradición.
Teobromina is back.
I’m one of those girls who didn’t start appreciating the delicacies of wine and spirits until my late twenties. Was it lack of curiosity, not finding interesting at all the “we’re teenagers, let’s get plastered for the sake of it” hype, the tiniest bit of prudery –or prudence–, all of the above? No idea. I guess I just was fulfilling my spirit’s monthly quota with something other than cheap party beer: I always liked all kinds of alcohols in my food, ever since I was a little child. Christmas fruit cake, beef stew with wine, pork marinated in beer, borrachitos poblanos, coq-au-vin, onion soup, hot chocolate with a dash of mint liquor, even those tasty sugar pills infused with alcohol and mysterious medicinal extracts that came with my family’s homeopathic doctor prescriptions, you name it.
As soon I was old enough to safely handle fire, pans and knives by myself, I started asking my mother for bottles of cheap wine to start experimenting with what I’d already classified as cocina ebria, “drunk food”. And so were born the “drunk cow” (my take on the boeuf bourgignon) and “drunk chicken” (coq-au-vin with apples and mushrooms). More on those two on my next posts.
Today’s drunk food, the first on a hopefully long series, will be one of the sweet and chocolate-y all-time classics of my kitchen: I’m writing this post to join a Sugar High Friday hosted by David Lebovitz, a Paris-based chocolate lover and blogger. Go take a look at his entries, you’ll surely have fun.
And, without further ado, let me introduce you to the sickeningly easy and sweet world of the Chocolate & Rompope Drunk Cake. It has been praised in this blog before (here and here, in Spanish), but its recipe has been kept secret. Until now.
The Chocolate + Rompope drunk cake combines the very alcoholic sweetness of rompope (an eggnog-like Mexican drink) with the bitterness of cocoa. And LOTS of eggs.
This recipe has a rather forgiving personality (as some drunks do); you can tweak the quantities, substitute the ingredients or change the baking time, and you’ll still end up with a tasty cake. There’s one particular ingredient, however, that cannot be changed without significantly altering the balance of flavors: you must use unsweetened cocoa. Mine has always been Hershey’s cocoa: there was an old can lying around in my mother’s pantry fifteen years ago, when I started to bake this particular cake, and I’ve been using this brand since. It’s widely available in Mexican supermarkets –which is very convenient– and I just can’t find any other cocoa that’ll work with this recipe, even if I’m not a fan of Hershey’s chocolate bars; I strongly dislike their artificial vanilla flavoring. Go figure.
You start by preheating your oven to 180 degrees Celsius.
Then you go gather the ingredients:
1 1/2 cup all-purpose flour 1 cup sugar 3 tsp baking powder 3 tbsp Hershey’s unsweetened cocoa 4 eggs 1/2 cup rompope 1/2 cup milk 1 cup unsalted butter, melted –bless the microwave
Throw them all in your mixer, blender, Kenmore-thingy, or whatever machine you have available. Sift the dry ingredients first, if you feel like it. Or not. It really doesn’t make that much of a difference. (See? A forgiving drunk!)
Of course, if you’d rather enjoy some elbow-grease fun –as I usually do– you can grab your bowl and mix your batter with a large fork or spatula, adding the ingredients in the same order they’re listed here.
One way or another you’ll end up with a nice and shiny batter (and believe me, with all that butter, it does shine). Pour it in a square pan (about 25x25 cm), or a couple of loaf pans properly greased and dusted. Bake it (or them) for about 30-40 minutes; use the the dry-toothpick method to tell you when they’re done.
Take the pan out of the oven, let it cool for 15 minutes before your impatience gets the best of you and makes you cut a slice and start eating it; then make a solemn vow to yourself and repeat several times “I shall not eat any more slices today”. Remember that, like all drunk foods, this cake tastes a lot better if you do let it rest for an entire day; all the rompope’s alcohol will soak in properly. Then eat some more slices with cold milk. Re-vow. Eat some more. At some point, you’ll go to sleep and the cake (or at least, a few slices) will be there next morning, ready to be enjoyed in all their alcoholic greatness.
Oh, and if you substitute the rompope and use eggnog, please let me know how it comes out.
