2K1R: The Mava Response

Katie: I feel like you're daring me to talk trash because you really want to but you don't want to be the one who starts it. I'm not saying that this plan of yours won't end up working eventually, I'm just saying that I see through your plan and won't be tricked by it right this moment.

So, how about this freaking mava? I was prepared for it to take a long time, but MY GOODNESS. I was so bored that I made a list of the things I did to occupy my mava time:

• I listened to the new Avett Brothers album on nprmusic.org—it's great. You can listen for free until the 29th.
• I went through old food magazines and cut out recipes, but this was a little too distracting because a skin kept forming on the mava and then I'd have to stir it and feel like I was ignoring it too much.
• I got restless and texted you, but you didn't really respond quickly, so that wasn't a good plan.
• I realized that in order to know when a liquid becomes thick it's really helpful to know how thin it started out.
• I listened to Science Friday on the radio and realized that, in my head, with certain things, I am a scientist. (!) For instance, I read a cookbook and was happy to learn that creaming butter and sugar together to make a cake is not a step to take lightly because that is where all the air bubbles are going to get into the batter. The baking powder in a cake recipe (like this one) doesn't make bubbles, but only makes existing bubbles bigger. So now I don't skimp on beating until light and fluffy.
• I despaired and turned the heat up to medium and promised myself to not stop stirring.
  
• Science Friday ended and I listened to a sad story: "When We Were Nearly Young."
  

And then, finally, I was done. I went until mine was really thick, like pudding. The next day, I baked those cakes and they're pretty good. They remind me of Salvadoran quesadilla, which isn't like a Mexican quesadilla at all because it's a CAKE with some cheese in it. Salvadoran quesadilla and mava cakes are good in the same way in that they're just barely into sweet territory and they are, like you say, dense and moist.

The biggest surprise about mava cakes: they are excellent drunk food. The density gives a good soaking-up feeling and the not-sweetness is handy after a few margaritas. So, an excellent offering at my 3rd Annual Mexican Cage Thumb Wrestling Tournament. (I placed 2nd in the all-around, but am both the female and left-handed champion.)

And now, your questions, my answers:

Would you make this recipe again?

You make a good point about having a bunch of leftover mava. And, knowing now that mava cakes are excellent drunk food, I might.

But would I make mava again? Unlikely. It is the most disappointing dulce de leche in the world—and that's not really mava's fault, because it's not dulce de leche, but it's just so close to be being dulce de leche that it seems a shame that it's not. In my head I have this scenario where I'm the mother and dulce and mava are my kids, and I'm totally unreasonable to mava and ridiculously supportive of dulce de leche—I'm totally picking favorites because, you know what? Mava and dulce de leche aren't kids, they're condiments. And dulce de leche is better.

What else would you serve in the meal?

I'm going to slightly change the question I'm going to answer to: what kind of meal would you serve this at? Answer: a boozy one that's a little light on food. Like, a mimosa brunch that starts around 11 a.m. and ends around dusk. Or a wine/cocktail and cheese/appetizer sort of thing that starts at happy hour and ends the next day. You get the picture: marathons of the eating and drinking variety.

How would you change this if you were going to make it again?

More cardamom. 1/4 teaspoon isn't doing enough. I'd also put in some vanilla, maybe some pistachios...and maybe a frosting that's just slightly sweetened whipped cream with rosewater because even though I'm not a big fan of roses or rose flavor, the whipped cream with rosewater is fantastic—it somehow makes the whipped cream taste rounder and light and fresh and planty without being weird.

What was your favorite part of making this recipe?

Writing about it to you.

Least favorite?

The mava. See despairing list above.

Did you mess up any parts of this recipe?

Yes. I almost forgot to add the eggs. So I put in the flour mixture and milk before the eggs. I think it was ok.

If you were going to serve this to one of your friends, who would you choose?

I already served it to drunk friends, high from the joys of Mexican cage thumb wrestling. It was a pretty appreciative crowd, but not the sort of appreciation where praise comes without you asking for it. What I mean to say is that I had to ask people if they liked it and then they said they liked it a lot, but I prefer to make things where people tell me they like it without me asking, you know?

For sober people, I would serve it to people who think they don't like sweet things. Because this is so dense and borderline savory that I think they could be tricked.