Chocolate Beet Cake

There are a lot of great things about having a CSA share. When you sign up for a weekly share you're supporting local farmers and sustainable farming; you get quality produce at a cheaper price than you could find in a grocery store; and each week you get to bring home delicious foods like seedy whole wheat breads, raw cheese, and sweet corn, that might not have found their way into your kitchen otherwise. For all the wonderful things that come with it, the one drawback of a CSA share is that you also can get stuck with produce that you really don't want. And then you have to find ways to use up all of the fresh fennel, or the eggplant, or the stalks of edamame that you signed up for.

For us, the greatest challenge has been finding ways to use the steady supply of red beets we've received this summer.

As a kid I had the shock of mistaking roasted beets for slices of my beloved canned cranberry sauce at a Thanksgiving dinner - that night some part of my subconscious was forever scarred by that alien root. But when they started popping up in our vegetable drawer this summer the trauma had faded from memory and I really had no aversion to trying them again. I topped a pizza with caramelized onions, walnuts, chèvre and small wedges of the roasted beet; we quickly decided that none of us liked the beets and had to pick every one of them off just to salvage our dinner. 

As beets continued to come in each week it became evident that the only way to swallow a beet was in very small portions smothered by other, better flavors. I enjoyed the same pizza with a sprinkling of grated beet and found that golden beets are nicely camoflauged inside of a muffin. So I hatched a plan to take down this weeks store in a chocolate (red beet) cake!

Gingerbread Cake

As a kid, I couldn't stand PB&J sandwiches. How did I survive my childhood? Simple. My mom drizzled molasses on my peanut butter sandwiches. It wasn't uncommon to find the molasses dripping out from the sides of the sandwich, and on some days come lunch time my sandwich bag would be a sticky, black mess; but I loved those peanut butter and molasses sandwiches nonetheless. And though I eventually moved on to other sandwich fixings, my affinity for the dark, sticky syrup has never diminished.

While baking this gingerbread cake I helped myself to spoonfuls of molasses . Sweet yet bitter, earthy yet smooth, blackstrap molasses has a complex and intriguing flavor that is not lost on this cake. The molasses, cinnamon, ginger, and cloves blend together and compliment each other so nicely that the resulting gingerbread seems like its own unique spice or flavor, than the combination of many.

As the cake came together the smell of gingerbread filled our kitchen and warmed my soul. The sweet, spiced aroma of gingerbread was enveloping and, like hearing a familiar song you haven't listened to in a while, it filled me with nostalgia.

Continuing the tradition that she had with her grandmother, my mom baked molasses cookies with my sister and I each year at Christmas when we were younger. We haven't made the cookies in a few years now and the tradition had slipped from my mind, but the smell of gingerbread in the oven reminded me of rolling out the soft, dark brown dough, cutting out christmas trees and santa clause, as well as a slightly less festive assortment of dinosaurs and dog bones.

Non-Erupting Chocolate Lava Cake

When I was younger, we lived in Maine for a couple years as my mom finished up her residency.  While she was working, from time to time my dad would take my sister and I on special lunch outings.  The trips were always fun; he would take us to the coolest little restaurants and cafés.  One of the restaurants that I loved, and that we went back to again and again was The Last Unicorn: a charming, aromatic (it had a rich cheesy, herb smell), little restaurant, that had the best cheese fondue.  Every time we went there, my dad would order the fondue plate; it came in a hot pot with sliced almonds and fresh bread and fruits on the side.  Delicious!

On one such outing, with just my dad and I, we stopped at The Last Unicorn in the late afternoon - past lunch, and too early for dinner - so my dad suggested I order something off the dessert menu.  I was happy to oblige. 

There must have been only four or five options to decide between but, being a kid and a lover of all things sweet, I couldn't pick just one!

But I must have taken a fair amount of time trying to, because I remember the waiter came to offer her suggestion: a chocolate lava cake... how could I say no?

At that age I had done my fair share of baking soda, "volcanic" experiments, so as I awaited the arrival of my exotic new dessert, I had a few expectations. And so, when the small cake was placed in front of me - a drizzle of melted chocolate on top - and I dug my fork into the soft cake, the warm chocolate lava slowly pouring out, it was delightful, but not what I had expected.  I was a bit disappointed at the absence of a fountain of chocolate streaming from the top.... But then again, how disappointed can you be with a warm, chocolate, heaven sitting right in front of you?

The answer of course is: not even a little. 

Soft and light on the outside, and warm and smooth inside, a lava cake is one of the most delightful, sweet desserts; and since that day the little cake has been top on my list.

Despite my love for these precious little things, I hadn't eaten another one since; so I was very excited to make these.  And this time around there was no disappointment at all; they came out wonderfully and I knew not to expect any chocolate geysers.