Dessert to Die For
A few months ago, before all this “quarantine” stuff started, I was sick. Deathly sick. All I wanted was something sweet, but I couldn’t even keep saltines down.
I had already been to Urgent Care once with a laundry list of symptoms. Three days later, I was even closer to death. My statistical performance was worsening like Brett Favre when he hit 40. I had lost 12 pounds in under a week. My body temperature could be mistaken for a hot tub thermometer. I was sleeping less than Navy Seals during hell week. Dante’s Inferno looked like a Hello Kitty birthday party.
I went back to the same Urgent Care, with the same administrator working reception. She made sure to let me know that coming back “was only a recommendation,” and “really not necessary.” This is the sage wisdom that comes with dropping out of high school and deciding that you could still find a “career.” I told her I would let the doctor decide what was necessary.
I was called back to see the Physician’s Assistant, which is basically a doctor but with less malpractice liability if I were to die. She wrote down everything she thought I could have, crossing them off the list as I described my symptoms and lifestyle in excruciating detail. Not an STD, not a fungus from Peru, not something I made up to get out of a math test. She ordered the same golden shower test from the week before, as well as a blood test, chest X ray, and finally, the golden goose of every medical examination, a stool sample.
The way it was described seemed daunting even without the issues I was facing at the moment. I was given a large plastic bag with the necessary ingredients; three test tubes, two pairs of non latex gloves, one plastic cereal bowl, and a partridge in a- I mean, instructions documenting how this awful puzzle was to be assembled. The PA told me to do this myself the next day, as the medical facility didn’t have a refrigerator for my sample, which would be needed to preserve the integrity of my results. I was told I would have thirty minutes from the time of my “deposit” to drive myself and my bacterial copilot to the testing facility, as if doing the trading game sequence from Ocarina of Time. Except this version of Link was sleep-deprived and fever dreaming, and noticeably without a “Save and Exit” option.
Soon after returning home, I got a call from the PA. Again, “nothing abnormal,” but I would have to wait for the specialist to look at my chest X ray, and it would still be best to bring in my stool sample. Ok fine, no news is good news. Maybe this thing would finally work itself out, and I would wake up feeling magically better.
No such luck. I woke up the next morning feeling like four pounds of excrement in a two pound bag. Up to this point I was lucky enough to have my girlfriend chaperoning all these Urgent Care visits, but my next adventure would have to be my own. Through bleary eyes and a foggy mind, I wished her a good day at work, and went to do my job in the bathroom.
I don’t want to get into all the details, but some are important. The instructions said if my bowel movements were “somewhat liquid,” I would need to make a “slurry” out of the solids and liquids, to get the full effect of the test. It met those requirements. I did what was necessary. Each vial had a lid with a small spoon to facilitate combining my “assets” with their test tubes, each already containing an amount of solution that would be needed for specific tests. I have never felt so excited to reach a “fill to this line” mark in my life. I put what was necessary in the large plastic bag, and threw everything else into the trash. Thankfully it was garbage day, and they hadn’t yet stopped at my house. Good riddance.
Believe it or not, there are a million more painful details of that story that I will bless you by not including. You’re welcome.
I hopped in my car with more culture than a street fair, and deliriously drove myself to and from the test facility. Thirty minutes after I got home, I got a call from the lab. There was an issue. The vials with solution already in the tubes were the wrong ones for the tests I needed. Since the “assets” were mixed with the incorrect chemicals, I would need to redo the sample. Now I could finally pinpoint the lowest moment of my life. Move over getting broken up with via AIM chat, we have a new rock bottom. I quickly entered the first stages of grief and hung up the phone, dejected.
I stewed for an hour until I received yet another phone call, this time from the PA. The specialist had looked at my chest X ray and found that I had asymptomatic bacterial pneumonia. She told me I needed a prescription for antibiotics, or this infection would eventually take my life. Finally, some good news! I told her where she could send the script, and then asked if I needed to go back and give a stool sample. She said no! I felt like a Thanksgiving turkey getting the presidential pardon. I don’t know if I believe in God, but I do believe this woman’s phone call was a miracle. I am alive today because she made the right diagnosis, and saved me from having to poop in yet another cereal bowl.
Anyways, here’s my recipe for Chocolate Lava Cake.
Ingredients:
This is ridiculously easy. It takes 20 minutes to prepare everything and only 5 minutes in the oven. I adapted this recipe from Jean-Georges Vongerichten, the apparent creator. There is a dispute about who should get credit for inventing this dish, but to me it's far more important that I get credit for teaching you. And then you can take credit for making them and impress that special someone. And that special someone can take credit for having you as a friend. Or maybe more than friends. But first, go make a cake. And leave the story out of it. It’s gross.
4 oz Unsalted Butter
4 oz Unsweetened Chocolate
4 Large Eggs
½ Cup Sugar
1 tsp Salt
Cocoa powder to line pan
Powdered Sugar (optional)
Ice Cream (optional)
Equipment:
I try not to buy additional equipment to make recipes, because I want to be versatile. I don’t want to be afraid of a recipe because it calls for a “tagine.” I WILL FIGURE IT OUT. For this recipe, I used my only muffin tin which is fairly small, but you can use bigger ones too. Maybe YOU should learn to adapt, you fossil.
Medium Bowl
Small Pot
6 cup, 3 oz Muffin Tin
Kitchen Brush
Sheet pan
Active prep total: 25 minutes
Bake time: 5 minutes
Clean up: 15 minutes
Instructions:
This takes so little time and effort, you will wonder what you’ve done wrong. NOTHING. Conjure up your inner Scott Pilgrim, lose the self doubt, and replace it with a little self respect.
Melt the butter in the small pot on the stove at LOW temperature. One click up MAYBE, but low and slow is your best bet.
Use your kitchen brush to line the muffin tin with the melted butter. You won’t need much to line the tin; the rest will be used in the cake itself.
Now you need to add the chocolate in with the butter to melt. Again, keep it low, or this stuff will burn and ruin everything. Low and slow. Stir occasionally, until the butter and chocolate soul bond.
While the butter and chocolate in the pot get to know each other, put a little cocoa powder into each cup of the muffin tin. Hold the tin and swirl it in circles to spread the powder. The butter and cocoa will create a layer that keeps the cake from sticking to the tin. Dump out the excess powpow, and preheat the oven to 450°F.
Crack 2 whole eggs and two egg yolks into your medium bowl. Add ½ cup sugar and stir until it becomes pale, which should take a minute. It took me three separate twenty second bursts, because I’m weak and have bad lungs. You can do better. Prove it.
Hopefully your chocolate and butter are melted together, and unburnt. Pour it into the egg/sugar mixture and whisk that dreamy batter. Oh yeah. Now you see it all coming together.
Pour the batter equally into each cup of your muffin tin. Take a picture, post it on Insta. Make that one ex jealous. Sorry, Tabrina.
Put the tin into the oven. Set a timer for 5 minutes. In my oven, this made the perfect interior of oozing molten chocolate. If you are using a different size tin, you can be sure that the exterior is cooked when it loses the shiny, oily surface. That is all you need.
When you pull it out, you don’t have to rush, but you don’t want to futz around either. Place your sheet pan on top of the tin, and flip the whole thing over so that the cakes come out onto the sheet. Now you have perfect little chocolate volcanoes.
Here comes the magic moment. You can serve these as is, or you can sprinkle a little powdered sugar on there, add a scoop of ice cream, maybe even drizzle caramel on top. It's your life, live it your way. But please, you worked hard. Cut in and watch the chocolate lava ooze out. Be proud, you made that.
Now you’ve added an amazing dessert to your repertoire, one that’s easy enough to remember after one try, and that you can whip up at a moment’s notice. And you learned way too much about pneumonia! Now, if life ever throws you into a nasty situation, you will be more than prepared to handle them yourself. And with a little chocolate and sugar on top. Delicious.
