“Domestic Sensualist” Laurie Colwin - Christmas 2010 and Black Cake

Laurie Colwin who authored two books of short stories, five novels and two cookbooks coined the term “domestic sensualist”. For me, I found a label that fit my life in the kitchen. She wrote in “The Lone Pilgrim”,
“Oh domesticity! The wonder of dinner plates and cream pitchers. You know your friends by their ornaments. You want everything. If Mrs. A has her mama’s old jelly mold, you want one too and everything that goes with it—the family, the tradition, the years of having jelly molded in it. We domestic sensualists live in a state of longing, no matter how comfortable our own places are.”

What she gave me in her writing is the approval of my “state of longing” for the old instead of the new. My family would say that I collect things. In my heart, I long for them. The Desert Rose dishes that my Grandma gave me for a wedding present and I just started using this year, 31 years late. The colorful Pyrex bowls of my Mom’s, especially the yellow one that held potato salad. My mother-in-law’s rice paddle and soy sauce cruet that was part of every meal we ate with her. Those pieces of family that adorn my table describe who I am.

Laurie Colwin blessed my cookbook collecting passion that fills bookcases when she wrote in “More Home Cooking”,
“Cookbooks hit you where you live. You want comfort; you want security; you want food; and you want to not be hungry; and not only do you want these basic things fixed, you want it done in a really nice, gentle way that makes you feel loved. That's the big desire, and cookbooks say to the person reading them, 'if you read me, you will be able to do this for yourself and for others. You will make everybody feel better.'

How many times have I picked up a cookbook just for comfort…?
My path to her was through the book “Simple Abundance” by Sarah Ban Breathnach.
I searched a good used bookstore and found “Home Cooking” devouring it in an afternoon. I couldn’t wait to read her fiction and when I did, I found a friend. The kind of friend I wanted sitting at my dining room table sharing conversation and Black Cake. When I read that she was born 11 years before me and died suddenly at age 48, in 1992. I felt a profound loss.

So finally, I reach the topic of this blog. Black Cake. I decided to make it for Christmas. I have Nigella Lawson’s book, “How to be Domestic Goddess” which has a version of Black Cake. On the Internet, I found an original recipe that dated back to Emily Dickinson, adapted by Margery K. Eagan. So with three versions in hand, I began the process in early November 2010. I went to Pedrick Produce on I-80 between Dixon and Davis and picked out the fruit. Stopped at BevMo! picked up the bottle of dark rum and Manischewitz Concord Grape wine and I was ready.

It took 90 minutes to chop the fruit by hand. I loaded it into my sun tea jar and poured in the rum and wine. I felt a sense of accomplishment and a huge dose of expectation. Then I set it on my kitchen counter for 7 weeks. I opened the lid occasionally to make sure it didn’t blow up! It smelled strong. My family wanted to know why on earth, I was making fruitcake. I told them it was for my Mom since I promised to make Black Cake for Christmas. The refrain was, “Why? No one will eat it.” I did not care about that part. I was in for the long haul.

It has been described as not like fruitcake. “There is fruitcake and there is Black cake, which is to fruitcake what the Brahms piano quartets are to Muzak” wrote Laurie Colwin in “Home Cooking”.

On December 14th, I began the cake. It was an opportunity for me to use the giant oversized stainless steel bowl my husband bought I forget how many years ago for the first time. It is a daunting recipe to attempt. It made two 8” rounds, two 10” rounds and a 12” springform pan.

I failed the first step but went forth fearlessly. The first step is to boil brown sugar syrup to the burning point but not farther. I was in fear of burning. Therefore, my cake was brown, not black. I also chose not to cover the baked cake in marzipan or fondant. I used buttercream frosting with some of the almost burnt sugar syrup for flavor.

I wrapped the cooled cakes in parchment and set them out to do what fruitcakes do. Age.
The first taste was on Christmas Eve. I was proud when Mom said she liked it. As for my family, no way. But then, I took one to my Dad’s. It was a huge success. He said everyone that tasted it, liked it. I am not sure if the alcohol content was the reason but his was gone first. I mailed one to a friend of Mom’s. I gave one to a friend of my daughters and then realized I had become that crazy lady with a table full of fruitcakes who sat there trying to decide who she could give them to.

I liked the cake too. It did not taste like fruitcake but was rich, moist, and alcoholic.
Laurie Colwin described it here:
“Its closest relatives are plum pudding and black bun, but it leaves both in thedust. Black cake, like truffles and vintage Burgundy, is deep, complicated and intense. It has taste and aftertaste. It demands to be eaten in a slow, meditative way. The textureis complicated, too – dense and light at the same time.’

I will make it again next year. I will look for the burnt sugar essence since I don’t have it in me to burn sugar. I will mail you one Mom, I promise.