Pomato Revival

I baked something for you. I think you’re going to like it. It’s sort of a cake, sort of a pudding, with more butter than I’d ever admit to using in one small dish.

The first time I made this, Joe and I had recently moved to our new apartment. We were finally getting around to hanging things: pictures, shelves, kitchen hooks, and most exciting of all, a knife magnet. He’d been pining for a knife magnet for years. It was one of those little things you dream up for your ideal kitchen that never happens for arbitrary reasons—limited wall space, paranoid landlords, crumbling drywall in your century-old building. It was always something.

But we were in our new place now, with a bare, newly renovated wall begging to host Joe’s dream magnet. He charged up the drill. I moved my clutter from the countertop. He put on his shoes for better leverage. We had no idea what we were doing. Between the two of us, we’d probably used a drill three times. We’d usually have my dad on the phone at this point during a project if he wasn’t over doing it for us. But not this time. We were set on installing this thing tonight. We’d be one step closer to our perfect kitchen. Two screws, one strip of metal. It was happening.

Then the blood emerged. The drill had been going for a good four seconds when I heard the slip, the “AGH!”, and the tinny crash of falling metal. I guess you’re supposed to find out what a wall is made of before drilling into it, huh? Well, this one is made of concrete. We can definitely tell you that. And it doesn’t take well to drilling.

Joe was fine after a speedy first aid session, and this brownie pudding. This was the sort of injury that could only truly heal with butter, sugar, flour, cocoa, and eggs. Throw in a little of my brother and sister-in-law’s homemade Kahlua, a scraped vanilla bean, and the importance of knife magnets starts to quickly fade. My dad did end up installing it, giving us a much-needed Drilling 101 session in the process. We still need work.

Meanwhile, I’ve mastered the art of healing minor flesh wounds with this dessert. I’m sure I’ll use this superpower many times over. Try it. Don’t underestimate its influence in any situation.

Meanwhile, sift the cocoa powder and flour together and set aside.

 

When the egg and sugar mixture is ready, lower the speed to low and add the vanilla seeds, liqueur (if using), and the cocoa powder and flour mixture. Mix only until combined. With the mixer still on low, slowly pour in the cooled butter and mix again just until combined.

 

Allow to cool and serve with vanilla ice cream.

My puny kid hands are far less helpful. It’s laughable, really, watching me try to knead dough. Or at least, it makes her laugh. When visiting family in Sicily a few years ago, we spent a day making pizzas and bread. I tried to join the master dough ladies, rolled up my sweater sleeves and threw my whole body into it. Turns out, I looked like I was having a seizure, aimlessly thrashing and bumping around. They promptly shooed me out of the way. I understand. You can’t let the dough get too cold or it will lose its elasticity (or something…). You need to get in there and pull, flip, push, and turn with nonstop, purposeful gusto. But dough won’t cooperate under my watch—it laughs at me, unyielding, sticky, and limp. I heard later that they called my mom in New Jersey and recounted my sad attempt, cackling and hooting and asking why she’d never taught me how to knead. She’s tried. Really. 

I’ve developed different goals for my kitchen. I do want to master every one of my mom’s techniques, but I can do it my way, right? Well, my way involves the Cadillac of all kitchen appliances. The KitchenAid Pro 600 (insert choir of angels). This shiny red beauty is the reason I’ve refused my mom’s 1990, lower-end model. It just didn’t have the oomph and gleam I’d dreamed of during my years of wimpy kneading. It makes up for so many of my kitchen inadequacies, puny hands be damned. She is my strength, the steroids my inner peasant girl always needed. Together, we kick ass.*

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 ½ teaspoons salt

3 cups whole wheat flour

1 egg white1 tablespoon water 

1. Combine the yeast, all-purpose flour, and salt in the bowl of a stand mixer with the dough hook attachment. Mix until well combined, regularly scraping the bowl to catch any flour hiding at the bottom.

2. When the dough is sticky, add the whole wheat flour one cup at a time. You’ll know it’s doing well when the dough looks like it’s getting the crap beaten out of it. The scene reminds me of a playground brawl, the dough boy not standing a chance as the mean hook throws it around. Keep beating until the dough is smooth and elastic, but still slightly sticky.

3. Shape the dough into a ball and place in a lightly oiled bowl. Turn it once so the surface is coated. Cover and let rise until at least doubled. All my big bowls were in use, so I plopped it in a Dutch Oven and put it in the oven (off, of course).