Gluten-Free Chocolate Layer Cake

A rich, devil's food style chocolate layer cake for the holidays.

Angel Food, Devil's Style

Sharing food in winter is one of life’s quiet joys. As poet Edith Sitwell noted, “Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.”

I contemplate her words and feel an ache that is dangerously flirting with longing. As we invest more and more of our (fleeting, precious!) time into our virtual lives, connecting not by touch or even by voice, but via endless shallow streams of social media- texting, downloading, uploading, scrolling through visual tidbits of other people’s lives (often strangers), privy to their breakfast, their political opinions, and goofy pictures of Fido and Kitty- I yearn to throw a party. To embrace the old fashioned ritual of baking from scratch, lighting candles, and inviting some human beings over for an evening of conversation and real time companionship.

Laughter and chocolate cake are good medicine, feeding not only our sweet tooth, but our sun deprived spirit as well. The spirit of connectivity, friendship and inclusion.

Yet for those of us living gluten-free (and dairy-free), the deep mid-winter season- with its twinkling celebrations centered around sharing food- too often feels the opposite of convivial. It feels gated. Off limits.

Look. Don't touch. Or taste. Smile graciously.

When you need not be hyper-vigilant about each and every forkful, the food centric holidays are, as the saying goes, a piece of cake. But to those of us with celiac disease and dairy allergies, a table heaped with food (glorious food) is a big steaming reminder of how different we are, a symbol of separation. Of not belonging.

This is when a gluten-free dairy-free chocolate layer cake is more than just dessert. It is a marvelous, beautiful thing. Bordering on luxurious.

Because to indulge (and share food) without worry is a true gift.

So pick a date. Text family and friends an invite. Or pick up the phone and call. Fire up your oven. Gather plates and candles.

Conviviality, connection, and cake await.


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