Grandma's Chocolate Cupcakes

My grandmother recently passed away. After a two and a half year long battle with cancer, it was expected, but it was still difficult for my family to say goodbye. Can you truly prepare yourself for losing someone you love? My grandmother was such a strong figure in our family, both humble and hardworking. She will be greatly missed.

During my childhood, my sister and I would spend our winter breaks on my grandparent's farm. Our early mornings were occupied by painting ceramic figurines, using leftover paints from my grandmother's days of painting alongside The Joy of Painting with Bob Ross. Our afternoons were spent building snow caves in the large snow drifts in the yard. When we could no longer feel the tips of our noses, we ran inside to be greeted by my grandmother's handmade quilts, hot from the dryer. In the evenings, we would cuddle up in the same bed and she would read us books. Even when we grew too old for bedtime stories, we would insist anyway, enjoying the familiar tales of Rabbit and Skunk, and the silly voices my grandmother gave the characters.

Most significantly, my grandmother passed down her love of baking to me. Since I was very young, I watched her create complex German meals from scratch: kneading bread dough to make buns, rolling out dough for strudels, whipping the filling for her chocolate pudding pies. As I grew, she taught what she knew about food. As a dedicated home cook, she opened her kitchen to me, letting me work alongside her. She was a no-fuss kind of woman, never minding when I accidentally ripped holes in the strudel dough or flip the frying "shoop" noodles too soon. Instead, she would guide me to do better on the next batch. In many ways, she laid down a foundation of knowledge on food, helping me discover my love and passion for baking.

When I learned of my grandmother's passing, I pulled my personal cookbook off the shelf, filled with her handwritten recipes. I paged through the book, pausing on each recipe, remembering the moments we shared making and eating those dishes together. The last recipe in the book was her recipe for chocolate cupcakes, the memories of which made me laugh. 

My grandmother was known in our family for her chocolate cupcakes, which appeared at every holiday and family gathering. It was general knowledge that her cupcakes had a secret ingredient. My sister and I would constantly beg and plead her to tell us the secret, but her response was always the same: when you grow older. Finally, when I reached my fourteenth birthday, I was deemed old enough. She took me aside and whispered the name of the mystery ingredient—a good cup of strong coffee—and told me I wasn't to tell a soul. I happily lorded this secret over my younger sister for years. 

I made her chocolate cupcakes on that sad morning, hoping to keep the memories of my grandmother close, baking them to share with my grieving family. I'm sharing her recipe—and secret ingredient—with you today. Above all, my grandmother believed food creates community; food is what brings us and binds us together. Food is love. Our recipes tell the stories of our love.

When you find a moment, bake and share these cupcakes with your loved ones. Create moments to remember and hold dear long after the cupcakes have disappeared. 

My grandmother's chocolate cupcakes have a chocolate base reminiscent of a moist, stick-to-the-roof-of-your-mouth devil's food cake. The frosting is cooked down on the stove, made with butter, sugar, marshmallows, and chocolate chips. After the frosting cools down and is whisked for a lighter texture, it's spread onto the cupcakes. My family prefers to eat the cupcakes straight from the refrigerator, where the frosting is firm and chilled, but feel free to serve them at room temperature based on your own preference (though my father will disagree with your decision on this). 

One Year Ago: Blueberry Crumble Bread
Two Years Ago: S'mores Tarts & Raspberry Rhubarb Sorbet
Three Years Ago: Chocolate Espresso Custard, Mixed Berry Quinoa Crumble, & Cookies & Cream Ice Cream
Four Years Ago:  Boozy Margarita Cake, Double Chocolate Muffins, Rhubarb Ginger Bars, & Dill Dinner Rolls
Five Years Ago: Lavender Lemonade, Vegan Chocolate Cupcakes, Cherry Almond Granola, & Vegan Chocolate Chunk Cookies
Six Years Ago: Cinnamon Raisin Baked French Toast, Chocolate Almond Oat Bars, Bizcochitos, & Quinoa Pudding
Seven Years Ago: Chocolate Chip Raisin Oatmeal Cookies

Grandma's Chocolate Cupcakes

Yields 2 dozen

Chocolate Cupcakes
2/3 cup (155 mL) vegetable oil
1 large egg
1 1/2 cups (300 grams) granulated sugar
1 cup (250 mL) buttermilk
2 cups (240 grams) all-purpose flour
1/2 cup (43 grams) cocoa powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup (250 mL) strong coffee

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (180 degrees C). Line a cupcake pan with liners.

In a large mixing bowl, whisk together vegetable oil, egg, granulated sugar, and buttermilk until uniform. Whisk in flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, and salt alternatively with the strong coffee until smooth.

Fill cupcake liners 2/3 full and bake for 18-22 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool completely before frosting.

Chocolate Frosting
1/4 cup (56 grams) butter
1 cup (200 grams) granulated sugar
6 standard or 60 mini (42 grams) marshmallows
1/4 cup (60 mL) water
1/2 cup (85 grams) semi-sweet chocolate chips

In a large saucepan over medium heat, whisk together butter, sugar, marshmallows, and water. Bring to a boil, stirring constantly, and remove from heat. Whisk in chocolate chips until melted. Cool the frosting in the refrigerator, whisking energetically every few minutes until it reaches a spreadable texture (approximately 15-20 minutes).

Frost cooled cupcakes and serve. Store in an airtight container at room temperature or in the refrigerator, depending on preference. 

Chocolate Peanut Butter Pie

My early twenties were a period of movement. I lived mainly out of a suitcase, shuffling between college dorms, internship accommodations, and my parents' house. In a year's time, I would call as many as four different beds my home. I loved the unpredictable nature of my life, this liberating feeling that I could go anywhere and do anything. It was freeing.

As the years passed, the pillow beneath my head grew fixed and my feet stayed in one place for a greater length of time. I moved to a small town of three thousand for two years; then I moved to a city of three million and that's where I still remain today. Though I resisted it in the beginning, I began to settle down, to find a community, to grow roots.

I closed on a beautiful house two weeks ago. The whole process still feels unreal; the understanding that I live here now is slow to set in. After years of living out of a suitcase, the lessons of minimalism stayed close to heart. Several rooms still sit empty after unpacking the boxes from my one bedroom apartment and will certainly sit empty for a while longer. The home is a blank slate, both exciting and intimidating at the same time.

I have dreamed of this moment for a long time. Now that it's here, I'm spending my time trying to take it all in, to savor this experience.

After baking in cramped apartment kitchens for a number of years, a large functional kitchen was one of the top elements I was looking for in my home. This new kitchen checks all the boxes, with enough counter space for several people to prep comfortably (or, in reality, enough space to support multiple messy, flour-covered projects). The new kitchen also features gas appliances. After using electric appliances my entire life, this particular adjustment has already become an adventure of trial and error.

For this Chocolate Peanut Butter Pie, I gave the gas oven a spin for the first time. The graham cracker crust bakes only long enough to set before it is cooled and filled with a rich, creamy peanut butter filling. Covered with a thick chocolate glaze and a smattering of salted peanuts, the pie is a simple homage to the candy bar of similar flavors.

I enjoyed a slice while sitting on the floor of my empty dining room. Between bites, I imagined the memories that would be made in this room someday.

This Chocolate Peanut Butter Pie is a rich, chilled dessert that has a flavor reminiscent of a favorite candy bar. A crisp graham cracker crust is filled with a peanut butter filling made from creamy peanut butter and coconut cream (but don't worry, it tastes nothing of coconut). Spread with a thick chocolate glaze and garnished with salted peanuts, the pie is shaped into its final form. Serve chilled, with a tall glass of milk.

One Year Ago: Dulce de Leche Cake
Two Years Ago: Strawberry Layer Cake & Blueberry Oat Crumble Muffins
Three Years Ago: Berry Topped Angel Food Cake, Mango Margarita, & Chocolate Cacao Nib Banana Bread
Four Years Ago:  Buckwheat Pancakes, White Chocolate Espresso Cake, Vanilla Chia Pudding, & Rhubarb Vanilla Pound Cake
Five Years Ago: Multigrain Bread, Blueberry Lemon Crumble, Vanilla Cupcakes, Toffee Chocolate Chip Cookies, & Coconut Nutmeg Pudding
Six Years Ago: Roasted Cherry Brownies, Whole Wheat Chocolate Chip Cookies, & Garlic Parmesan Pull-Apart Bread
Seven Years Ago: Lemon Tart, Chocolate Sherbet & Tapioca Pudding

Chocolate Peanut Butter Pie

Yields 8-10 servings

Graham Cracker Crust
2 cups (285 grams) graham cracker crumbs (about 12 crackers, crushed)
1/4 cup (50 grams) brown sugar, packed
Pinch of salt
6 tablespoons (85 grams) butter, melted

Peanut Butter Filling
14 oz (414 mL) can full-fat coconut milk, chilled overnight in the refrigerator
1 1/2 cups (405 grams) creamy peanut butter
1 1/4 cups (140 grams) powdered sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Chocolate Glaze
6 ounces (170 grams) semisweet or milk chocolate, coarsely chopped
1/2 cup (120 mL) heavy cream (or full-fat coconut milk)
1/4 cup (35 grams) salted, roasted peanuts, coarsely chopped

Preheat oven to 325 degrees (160 degrees C). 

In a medium bowl, stir together graham cracker crumbs, brown sugar, salt, and melted butter until uniform. Press evenly into a pie pan and bake for 10-12 minutes to set. Cool before filling.

For the filling, open a can of chilled coconut milk and scoop the solid cream from the top into a mixing bowl. Leave the liquid in the bottom of the can and reserve it for another use (smoothies, baked goods, etc). Add the peanut butter, powdered sugar, and vanilla extract to the solid cream and beat until whipped, about 3-5 minutes. Spread evenly into the cooled crust.

For the glaze, heat the heavy cream in a small saucepan until steaming. Immediately remove from heat and pour over chopped chocolate, allowing the chocolate to melt for 5 minutes before stirring until smooth and uniform. Spread evenly over the filling. Sprinkle with chopped peanuts.

Chill in refrigerator to set before serving. Store pie in an airtight container in the refrigerator.

Rhubarb Almond Cake

Pastry Affair turned seven this week—a milestone I never imagined when I started this blog so many years ago. 

Blogging has evolved since I began sharing my own recipes and stories. This year more than any other I have felt the pressure to do more and be more. The list of things I "should" be doing to improve this space stretches the length of a page. It is easy to get caught up in comparisons, to feel as if my voice is not enough when it's not coming from a professionally designed website and broadcast across a half dozen beautifully curated social media accounts. At the same time, these comparisons feel so silly. Blogging was never meant to be a competition. There is a place for every voice; our diversity only strengthens us.

I spent time this year reflecting on this space. Pastry Affair has meant very different things to me at different times—a reprieve from reality, a creative haven, a community. I have shared recipes as many as three times a week when I was seeking a sense of purpose, and as little as once a month when I found that purpose as a teacher in a high school classroom. This past year I also did something unusual by taking an unannounced break. I spent a weekend building up a few recipes to share during my absence, and turned off my oven for a solid month. I learned we sometimes need vacations even from the things that bring us joy—when we return, it is with a new energy and excitement.

Though my relationship with this space is ever-evolving, I have enjoyed the journey and the company I have had along the way. Thank you, dear readers, for being the loving, supportive constant that makes this space feel like home.

In the past I've celebrated the blog's anniversary with bold layered cakes, but this year I opted for a simpler, seasonal cake. Growing up, there was an immense rhubarb plant in the backyard. Around late May, the first stalks were ready to harvest; the clean, tart flavor of the rhubarb holds a special place in my memory.

This rhubarb almond cake allows both the tart rhubarb and rich almond flavors to shine. The fresh rhubarb lends moisture to the cake and the almonds provide a grounding profile. The cake is most reminiscent of a pound cake once it has had a chance to cool. The top of the cake is sprinkled with almonds and raw sugar, which provide a sweet contrast to the produce. I adore that the rhubarb carries a tartness after baking, but if you prefer a sweeter cake, cut back on the amount of rhubarb and sprinkle a little more raw sugar over the top. 

Rhubarb Almond Cake is a seasonal snacking cake that balances flavors both sweet and tart. The cake starts with a rich, almond cake batter infused with almond meal and almond extract. Rhubarb is cut and layered in the center and on the top to provide a tart contrast. With a sprinkling of sliced almonds and sugar, the cake bakes up into a treat that is a delight to share. For a better finished product, I suggest cutting the rhubarb into smaller pieces than shown in the photographs. The smaller pieces fit nicely on a fork and provide a more balanced flavor between sweet and tart from bite to bite. 

One Year Ago: Chocolate Banana Baked French Toast
Two Years Ago: Perfect Pie Crust (tutorial) & Berry Balsamic Pie
Three Years Ago: Roasted Strawberry Red Wine Popsicles 
Four Years Ago:  Fresh Strawberry Cake, Whole Wheat Almond Waffles, Pineapple Rum Cocktail, & Nutella Banana Bread
Five Years Ago: Rhubarb Custard Tart, Chocolate Almond Ice Cream, Rhubarb Muffins, Coconut Waffles, & Mocha Granola
Six Years Ago: Parmesan Crackers, Pina Colada Cupcakes, & Strawberry Rhubarb Lemonade
Seven Years Ago: Chocolate Coconut Granola & Sour Cream Sugar Cookies

Rhubarb Almond Cake
Adapted from Floating Kitchen

Yields 10-inch cake

1/2 cup (113 grams) butter, room temperature
1 cup (200 grams) granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1 cup (225 grams) sour cream
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon almond extract
1 1/2 cups (180 grams) all-purpose flour
1/2 cup (50 grams) almond meal
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
12 oz (0.75 lb or 340 grams) rhubarb, sliced into 3/4-inch pieces (roughly six 15-inch stalks)
1/3 cup (30 grams) sliced almonds
1 tablespoon raw or turbinado sugar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (180 degrees C). Grease a 10-inch spring-form pan and set aside.

In a large bowl, beat together butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add in the eggs one at a time, mixing well between additions. Beat in the sour cream, vanilla extract, and almond extract until uniform. Gradually add the flour, almond meal, baking powder, and salt, mixing until uniform. 

Spread 1/2 of the cake batter in the prepared pan. Layer 1/2 of the rhubarb pieces in concentric circles. Spread the remaining batter evenly over the top. Layer the remaining rhubarb pieces in concentric circles. Sprinkle evenly with sliced almonds and raw sugar.

Bake for 55-65 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool in pan for 10 minutes before removing spring-form and cooling completely. Serve with a dusting of powdered sugar.