Patience

Patience is a hopeful practice. It looks to the future and anticipates what might be and figures it is well worth the wait. Patience knows an outcome cannot be rushed and will be savored all the more with the passing of time.

Each autumn, I have to remind myself to be patient with the two ancient Japanese maples in front of NOLD. After a summer dressed in leaves of burgundy, the pair of trees undergoes a slow transformation. Their color evolves incrementally from crimson to brick to cardinal red or from eye catching to blazing to breathtaking.

When I think the Japanese maples could never surpass such beauty, one more day passes and proves me wrong. The morning comes, and the intensity of red in the sunlight cannot be matched anywhere else I look despite the ample color that dots the wooded hills all around our community in early November. I have learned to appreciate this process of coloration in our midst, a gift of evolution for the patient observer.

Yesterday, it rained, sleeted, snowed, and blew nearly every single red jewel from our grand dames. The trees let go of their vanity and gave in to the power of this planet's yearly elliptical revolution around the sun on tilted axis that shortens our days and will shortly bring winter to the northern hemisphere.

Baking has taught me patience as well. Beat and scrap. Beat and scrape. For pound cake or Bundt, the addition of air and the process of emulsion cannot be rushed anymore than a Japanese maple. So, I choose my largest mixing bowl and begin with butter, so soft and willing it surrenders to the will of the mixer. The cream which was churned into a solid block transforms again into something light and fluffy.

Add sugar first, then eggs one at a time, and finally vanilla, always beating and scraping and feeling the rhythm of the beaters. The ingredients get to know one another, to expand and snake up the sides of the bowl. When the raucous party seems like it is about to lose control and spill over the edge, I stop and immerse my forefinger deep into the batter. I lick and the heavenly combination melts in my mouth.

Really, I am practicing patience right now while I wait and plan for the holiday cookie baking season to begin, a yearly ritual I anticipate and enjoy to the fullest, In the meantime, I made a new Bundt cake that I wanted to share -- so dense and rich a small slice satisfies.

Mocha Chocolate Chip Bundt Cake with Chocolate Glaze

1 ⅔ cups unbleached all-purpose flour

½ teaspoon baking powder

½ teaspoon salt

1 ½ cups unsalted butter, softened

2 ½ cups granulated sugar

5 large eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 cup unsweetened cocoa

1 tablespoon finely ground deep-roasted coffee

1 cup buttermilk

¼ cup water

1 cup mini chocolate chips, preferably bittersweet

1. Grease a 10-inch Bundt pan and dust with flour, tapping out excess. Set aside.
2. Combine flour, baking powder, and salt in a medium bowl. Set aside.
3. Beat butter until light and fluffy. Add sugar and beat for 5 minutes. Add eggs, one at a time, and vanilla; beating until fluffy and scraping down sides of bowl as needed. Add cocoa and coffee and blend well.
4. Add dry ingredients, alternating with buttermilk and water, until the batter is fully combined and smooth, scraping the bowl as needed. Fold in mini chocolate chips.
5. Pour batter into prepared Bundt pan and smooth top.
6. Bake at 350°F until cake pulls away from the sides of the pan and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, or about 70 to 80 minutes
7. Transfer cake to wire rack to cool for 30 to 45 minutes, allowing cake to deflate a bit.
8. Invert cake onto a serving plate to cool completely.
9. Pour chocolate glaze over top of cake, if desired, and allow to set for 10 to 15 minutes before serving.

Yield: 12 to 16 slices of one 10-inch bundt cake

Chocolate Glaze

1 tablespoon unsalted butter

1 ounce unsweetened chocolate

1 cup confectioners’ sugar

½ teaspoon vanilla extract

2 to 3 tablespoons hot milk

Melt butter and chocolate together. Whisk in confectioners’ sugar, vanilla, and enough milk to make a smooth glaze – thick and pourable to stick and coat but not runny or it will run right off.