Monique's Magic Cake

My friend Monique shared this recipe with me many years ago.  It brings back a lot of good memories of time together when our kids were very small; she made the most incredible homemade chai from scratch and we would drink mug after mug of tea and talk and eat and the kids would play and for that brief time, all the interrupted sleep, toddler tantrums and piles of laundry would fall into the backdrop. I'm not sure what she calls it, but we call it Monique's Magic cake.  I can't really recall why the magic...perhaps because it comes together quickly with a few pantry staples?  Perhaps because of the potion like reaction the baking soda produces when the vinegar is added to the batter?  Perhaps because it tastes magical with its chocolate-studded goodness? This cake tastes delicious as is, and next level sprinkled with powdered sugar and a scoop of vanilla ice-cream or topped with whipped cream and sour cherries a la deconstructed black forest cake.  You can bake it in an 8 inch pan or in a muffin tin. Magic.

1 1/2 cups flour
1/3 cup cocoa
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup vegetable oil (I use melted coconut oil)
1 cup water or strong coffee
2 teaspoons of vanilla
2 tablespoons of vinegar
chocolate chips

Combine the dry ingredients and set aside.  Combine the oil, water or coffee and vanilla and add to your dry ingredients mixing until just combined.  Stir in the vinegar.  Pour batter into a greased 8 inch pan or muffin tin and sprinkle the surface with chocolate chips. Bake at 375 for 25 minutes or until knife inserted comes out clean.  Call your friends and share the magic.

I must admit, I picked Lost and Found initially for it's cover; I loved the art and of course because I have a fascination with debut novels. This is a very sweet and in the words of Millie Bird, "happy-sad" novel that will resonate with anyone who has experienced a sudden or unexpected loss... any loss really.  I once read that grief is an expression of how deeply we have loved and at a time when most everything well-meaning sounded quite hollow, I found comfort in this particular sentiment. The notion that our grief is so great because we have loved so well somehow makes it bearable.

"All changed, changed utterly: a terrible beauty is born.--Yeats