This year, once again, we’ve had several weeks of artic weather, and y’all know what that means, right? 

This past weekend, according to the forecast, would be the last deep cold of the season. Saturday was brutal with high winds, but the next day was supposed to be calm. It’d be perfect, I decided. 

Even though I plunged twice last year (first, second), I was still nervous. The night before, I dreamed I was an Olympic swimmer who didn’t know how to turn and push off the wall.

I tried to rally the troops (friends, children, spouse), but everyone demured. Except my older daughter — and Eucefe!

At the start of winter, I’d showed Eucefe pictures of last year’s plunge. When I asked if he’d want to do it with us, he was like, You bet, and I’m gonna stay in for 5 minutes, too!\ Considering he hates cold weather and had never even been on a frozen pond, I figured he was bluffing.

But then Sunday morning, the day of, I checked in with Eucefe to see if he was plunging.

Yeah, he said.

I thought perhaps he wasn’t understanding my English, but he assured me he was gonna do it. Even then, I still wasn’t sure he fully understand what was gonna go down, but hey, if a guy from Mozambique could get in an ice-covered pond, than I could, too! 

One of our friends had marked our plunge spot before we arrived (he and a bunch of friends would be playing on the ice later and wanted to make sure we didn’t mess up their ice), and my husband did the chainsaw honors.

It was a good 10-inches thick! 

My daughter was first.

She warmed herself up with pushups, and then slipped in.

Last year she stayed in for a minute.

This year, a minute thirty. 

Then it was Eucefe’s turn.

In the car, we’d explained the gasp reflex and how it’s important to enter slowly and breathe evenly. Eucefe lowered himself in, and my husband started the stopwatch.

After he’d been in for a few seconds, we gave him the time. “Don’t tell me,” he said.

So we just hung out, watching him.

After a couple minutes, my daughter whispered, “Are you still alive?” He nodded slowly, and grinned. 

At three minutes, my husband and I started giving each other looks. This guy seemed capable of staying in for hours. At what point would he turn into a popsicle? We didn’t want to crush his dreams, but we also wanted him to remain alive.

At four minutes, we told him he should probably get out, and he hoisted himself out like he’d been doing cold plunges in ice-capped ponds his whole life. 

Then, my turn. 

My biggest fear isn’t the cold water — it’s whether or not I’ll be able to pull myself out — so I opted for the rope.

My only goal was to try to stay calm and put my head under.

I did both, though I didn’t feel calm (and in comparison to Eucefe’s stoic performance, I was positively hysterical). 

My kneejerk reaction is to exit the water by hoisting my body up with my arms and then pulling my legs up under me. But that’s super hard on wet ice. So my daughter helpfully instructed me to lean forward onto the ice, and then lift my feet out behind me. PSA to all ice-plunging hopefuls, this is the exiting method of choice. Future, Jennifer, remember this. 

Bonus of exiting on your belly: once you’re out, you can just lay on the ice and bask in the fact that you are no longer about to die (until your daughter tells you you’re gonna stick to the ice if you don’t get up now).

Almost as soon as I was back home, I was wishing I could do it again so I could practice staying calmer, staying in longer, and getting in and out several times in a row to get over my fear of not being able to get out, etc.  

I know it sounds crazy to want to plunge again just minutes after, but hey, endorphins are no joke.

This same time, years previous: doping, the spiced onyx, a new project, what we ate, the quotidian (2.10.20), snake cake, crispy baked hash browns, a horse of her own, a taste, eight, school: the verdict, addictive and relaxing.

Quotidian: daily, usual or customary;
everyday; ordinary; commonplace

Grapefruit yogurt loaf cake.

Boy lunch.

PB&J: grape crumb and peanut butter cream.

Pies, the backstory.

Kitchen chaos.

Sisters.

Father and son.

Inside: warm (kinda).

Outside: cold (very).

King (heifer) of the mountain (manure pile).

Dumb calf’s done this twice now. Burger, anyone?

This same time, years previous: muesli rusks, spiced Irish oatmeal, labor pains, a family milk cow, all things Thursday, chicken and sausage gumbo, roar, object of terror, the quotidian (2.2.15), lemon creams, how we got our house, wheat berry salad.

A week ago, I made Samin’s chocolate cake.

That evening, when I cut slices for my husband and me, the cake was so fresh it was still warm, but just barely. I took one bite, and moaned. Another bite, and then in a hushed voice, sticky with fudgy chocolate, I said, “This is the best chocolate cake of my entire life.”

It was so soft, so incredibly tender, and so entirely and completely and irrevocably chocolate-y — the chocolatey-est of chocolate chocolate cakes.

Another bite, and I took my glasses off and hurled them across the room.

My husband gaped.

So then I had to explain to him about the trend where people eat something good and then throw their glasses. (I think it started here, but I only became aware of it when I started getting comments on my YouTube channel, such as:  “Thought you were going to throw your glasses against the wall there for a second.”)

After I got done crawling around on the floor in search of my glasses, I sat back down and finished the piece. The tender crumb and fudgy velvety frosting was better than any cake I’d ever eaten, but, despite my glass-throwing, it wasn’t perfect. Specifically, it was much too salty.

This was my fault. The frosting recipe called for unsalted butter and then a teaspoon of salt, but I’d used salted butter and the full amount of salt, oops. So I made notes for next time. 

Sunday afternoon, in the middle of the Giant Snowstorm That Wasn’t, I made the cake again, this time with my adaptations. 

It’s perfection. I double dog dare you to contradict me.

(Mother, I know you are skeptical of my newfound chocolate cake crush, and I know you are deeply attached to your favorite chocolate cake [which is very, very good], and I know I gave you a taste of the dried-out-and-too-salty first version so I can’t really blame you for having doubts, but I do think you oughta at least try this one so you can understand what I mean when I say it’s more tender-dense — because it is.)

P.S. Just make sure you take off your glasses before forking that first piece into your mouth. 

The Best Chocolate Cake of My Entire Life
Adapted from Samin Nosrat’s new cookbook, Good Things

Samin claims this is a one-bowl cake. It is not. Many dishes got soiled in the making of this cake but: no regrets. However, this entire recipe is measured in grams (minus the teaspoons), so no measuring cups are needed, simplifying things dramatically. 

Samin says to use Dutch process cocoa powder. I used what I had in my cupboard.

The frosting is wildly delicious. It’s official name (if searching for it in the recipe index) is Sour Cream Fudge Frosting.

This cake is best eaten as soon as it cools, or within 24 hours. If you can’t manage that, then freeze the cake layers. OR! Horizontally halve the layers to more evenly distribute the luscious frosting. Thisaway, if the cake gets a little dry, it’ll never even cross your mind.

for the cake:
236 grams flour
75 grams cocoa powder
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1¾ teaspoon salt
150 grams brown sugar
150 grams white sugar
2 eggs
180 grams sour cream
110 grams oil
2 teaspoons vanilla
240 grams hot coffee

Sift the first 4 ingredients. Add the sugars and salt and stir. 

In a separate bowl (see? I told you!), whisk together the eggs, sour cream, oil, and vanilla.

Add the sour cream mix to the dry ingredients and whisk just a little. Add the hot coffee and whisk vigorously until super velvety. 

Divide the batter between 2 greased and parchment-lined cake pans — about 625 grams batter per pan. 

Bake at 350 for 25-ish minutes. Cool in the pans for 10 minutes before running a knife around the edges and inverting onto a cooling rack. Cool completely and then ice.

for the frosting
If using unsalted butter, increase the salt to ¾ teaspoon — and then add more as needed, to taste.

228 grams salted butter
114 grams chocolate chips
240 grams powdered sugar
68 grams cocoa powder
¼ teaspoon salt
320 grams sour cream
2 teaspoons vanilla

Melt the butter and chocolate chips in a double boiler. Cool to room temp.

Sift the powdered sugar and cocoa into a bowl. Add the salt and then whisk in the melted chocolate and butter. Whisk in the sour cream and vanilla. It will look like ganache at first, but within minutes, it will set up into a spreadable frosting.

This same time, years previous: one drunk pig, banoffee pie, eight fun things, launching, the quotidian (1.27.20), butter dumplings, vindication, omeletty egg bake, crispy pan pizzas, sour cream and berry baked oatmeal, about a picture, swimming in the sunshine.