When I was a child, my maternal grandmother made a dessert called the One Hundred Dollar Cake for most family celebrations — birthdays, Christmas and the like. It was a chocolate layer cake topped with chocolate frosting and pecans, and members of my family thought it was a pretty special treat.

My grandmother belonged to several clubs in Dallas, and one of her fellow clubwomen had come across the recipe for this cake, which supposedly had originated at the Waldorf-Astoria in New York City. A woman had eaten the cake at the hotel and had enjoyed it so much, she wanted the recipe, she told her waiter. When her bill arrived, she discovered she'd been charged $100 for the pastry chef's words.

My mother typed the recipe on white stationery and added a small sticker of a pink flower. My grandmother's club then sold a fair number of the recipes to raise money.


My grandmother, Johnnie Birge Alexander, was born in Bowling Green, Ky., in 1880. My brother tells me the family at one time had a little money, but by the time Johnnie came along, it had disappeared. She had, at best, a sixth-grade education.

When she was 18, my grandmother caught a train to Texas, getting off in Sherman, where her brother was living. She eventually migrated to Dallas, and in the big city, she met Oscar Wilson, a first-class mechanic at a local cotton gin — cotton was big business in those days.

Not long after the 19th century had become the 20th, the two married and built themselves a white frame house with a big front porch in East Dallas. Johnnie filled the backyard with roses and crape myrtle trees. And she altered the dresses of Dallas' wealthy women to help her family earn a living.

My grandmother was one of those people who believed just about everything she owned was the best there was. And she was also a strong-willed woman who insisted her way was the only way, though I have to admit she was awfully nice to her grandchildren.

Once, when I was unhappy with my mother over some perceived slight, I announced I was going to live with my grandmother. My mother gave me a serious look. "You know," she said, "I was young once. I lived with your grandmother. And I suggest you give this move a little more thought." I was perhaps 8 at the time, but I realized my mother was trying to tell me something about my grandmother and her iron-fisted ways. I opted not to move.

Nevertheless, Mimmie — as my siblings and I called her — was a good cook, and the incredible smell of her food wafted through that East Dallas house. I remember when I was 4 or 5, standing on a chair and peering over her kitchen table, helping her make cherry and apple pies. She made a fine crust. And she served a great fried chicken with mashed potatoes, which she draped in a cream gravy to die for.

Then there was the One Hundred Dollar Cake ...


After my grandmother and mother died, I remembered that cake. My mother had tucked several of her typed recipes into her main cookbook, a loose-leaf affair that had worn a yellow polished-cotton dust cover as long as I could remember. After my mother died, my sister had wanted that cookbook. But I took a copy of the One Hundred Dollar Cake recipe for myself.

So one Sunday afternoon in Houston, where I was then living, I made the cake, frosted it and decorated it with chopped pecans. I cut myself a slice and ...

It was not the cake I remembered — it was too sweet and not seriously chocolatey. I tossed the recipe in the trash.


Not long ago, however, I found myself thinking about that cake. I no longer had the recipe. My sister had unexpectedly died a few years earlier, and at that time, no one had thought about my mother's cookbook. I doubted it still existed.

But, I figured, I should be able to find the recipe on the Internet. I typed in "One Hundred Dollar Cake" and "Waldorf-Astoria" on Google, and up came recipes for three cakes with that name. One was a chocolate cake made with mayonnaise. A second was a Red Velvet Cake, which a New York Times writer described as "creamy white icing" atop "moist layers of (light chocolate) cake the color of Dorothy's slippers." Neither of those was my cake. The third one, however, was close enough: a chocolate layer cake with chocolate/pecan frosting.

But a surprise came with the three cakes. Each was described as a hoax, an urban legend. No one — but me, it seems — believed the woman had asked for the recipe and was billed $100. Most of the written accounts indicated the woman was so angry at the cake's price tag, she duplicated the recipe and gave it to everyone she knew.

In my grandmother's story, however, the woman wasn't angry. I had always assumed she was wealthy — she was staying at the Waldorf-Astoria, wasn't she? — and paying $100 for the recipe was no big deal.


Last Thursday morning, Emily Swantner, who cooks the foods the two of us write about, baked an altitude-adjusted version of the One Hundred Dollar Cake. After I arrived at her house, Emily swirled the frosting onto the cake. And as she worked, she made it abundantly clear this was not her favorite dessert.

She told me she had wanted to add cocoa to the cake batter as she mixed it and to use bittersweet chocolate instead of the recipe's unsweetened, the only kind of chocolate available in Dallas when I was young. And the frosting was much too sweet and didn't have enough chocolate in it, she added.

"But I can understand why you liked this cake as a child," she said, referring to its sweetness.

Eventually, Emily asked an important question: "Was your mother a good cook?"

"When I was a child," I answered, "she prepared a few dishes I thought were incredibly good. She made what I thought was a fantastic brisket. She baked a pecan pie we all thought was terrific. But she used the recipe on the back on a Karo syrup bottle. And she had a great chocolate pie. But would we think today they were really good?

"In retrospect, did my grandmother make a fine pie crust? Was her fried chicken with cream gravy wonderful? I just don't know."

And did the fact that my mother and grandmother both baked the One Hundred Dollar Cake count against them?


Because Emily and I knew this cake would not be sensational, we looked for a couple of other chocolate/pecan cakes or adaptations of chocolate/nut cakes to recommend to Santa Fe bakers. I am a big fan of tortes, rich cakes that contain little or no flour and are usually made with eggs and ground nuts or bread crumbs. Not only do they taste wonderful, they are relatively easy to bake at Santa Fe's altitude.

So I inundated Emily with various recipes, mostly for tortes, that called for chocolate and nuts.

She selected two recipes. One was the Gâteau Fondant au Chocolat from Pascal Rigo's The American Boulangerie: Authentic French Pastries and Breads for the Home Kitchen.

The French-born Rigo moved to San Francisco a few years back and opened a wholesale bakery, Bay Bread; a retail bakery, Boulangerie at Pine Street; and a restaurant, Le Petit Robert.

Emily added chopped pecans to the batter of his flourless cake, which wasn't a real torte.

The second cake was the Torta Barozzi from Lynne Rossetto Kasper's The Splendid Table: Recipes from Emilia-Romagna, the Heartland of Northern Italian Food.

The author is one of America's top experts on Italian cooking, and both the James Beard Foundation and the International Association of Culinary Professionals named The Splendid Table as their book of the year after it was published.

The first cake out of the oven was Rigo's gâteau, and Emily, her husband, George Haddad, and I quickly chomped down our slices. We all agreed: This was one magnificent cake.

The torta was no match for the gâteau, which can outshine just about every chocolate cake around. Emily, however, reports the torta had improved significantly two days later, its flavors — including peanut butter — had melded, becoming more intense, and the cake more moist.

Now the strange part: Last Thursday, after the photographs were shot, I took the One Hundred Dollar Cake to The New Mexican, hoping my colleagues would scarf it down. "That's a pretty good cake," one of them said, brushing crumbs from his lips. "Of course, that icing was particularly sugary. But it was a good, moist cake."

Ah, well.




For this recipe, Emily Swantner used Ghirardelli unsweetened chocolate for both the cake and the frosting, but any brand of unsweetened chocolate will work.

To toast pecans, bake in a 350-degree oven for about 10 minutes.

ONE HUNDRED DOLLAR CAKE
(Serves 10)

For the cake:
4 ounces (1 stick) softened unsalted butter
1 cup plus 14 tablespoons granulated sugar (2 cups minus 2 tablespoons)
4 (1-ounce) squares unsweetened chocolate melted over hot water
2 extra-large eggs, lightly beaten
1-1/2 cups whole milk
2 cups plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon kosher salt
2 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
1 cup pecans, lightly toasted and chopped
For the frosting:
4 ounces (1 stick) softened unsalted butter
1 (16-ounce) box powdered sugar
2 (1-ounce) squares unsweetened chocolate, melted over hot water
2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
1 extra-large egg, lightly beaten
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 tablespoons half-and-half, if needed
1 cup pecans, lightly toasted and chopped, divided

Make the cake: Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Butter and flour two 9-inch round cake pans. Set aside.

Cream the butter and sugar in a standing mixer or with a hand mixer until light and fluffy. Add melted chocolate and incorporate well. Add the eggs one at a time, beating after each addition.

Sift flour, salt and baking powder together in a medium bowl. Add one-quarter of the milk to the butter/sugar mixture, alternating with one-quarter of the flour, beating after each addition. Add the vanilla and beat 30 more seconds. Fold in the pecans.

Divide the batter evenly between the two cake pans. Bake for about 30 minutes or until a toothpick, when inserted in the cake, comes out clean. Remove from the oven and cool on a wire rack.

Make the frosting: Cream the butter and sugar in a standing mixer or with a hand mixer. It will look rather lumpy, not smooth. Add the melted chocolate and incorporate into the butter and sugar mixture. The frosting will still look lumpy. Add the lemon juice to the egg and stir to combine. Add to the butter and sugar and beat until smooth. Add the vanilla and beat to incorporate. If the frosting looks a little dry, add
2 tablespoons half-and-half. Fold in half the pecans.

Carefully remove one cake layer to a plate or cake stand. Frost the top of the first layer with about one-quarter of the icing. Top with the second layer. Ice the sides of the cake, then the top. Sprinkle with pecans.

This is the only chocolate cake Pascal Rigo makes at his San Francisco bakery. "Its stroke of genius," he says, "is marbling ganache into the ultra-chocolatey cake batter." It may not be the most spectacular-looking cake when it comes out of the oven, but once it is sliced and presented with a big dollop of whipped cream, it is beautiful. Rigo recommends warming each slice for a few seconds in a microwave just before garnishing and serving. "The ganache will soften and the flavors will become even more intense," he says.

GÂTEAU FONDANT AU CHOCOLAT
(Makes one 10-inch cake; serves 12)

12 ounces bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped (approximately 2 cups)
4 ounces (1/2 cup) unsalted butter.
2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
4 extra-large eggs, separated
2 extra-large egg whites
Pinch of salt
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup chopped pecans
1/2 cup Chocolate Ganache (recipe below)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Spray a 10-inch springform pan with vegetable-oil spray and line the bottom with a circle of parchment paper. Set aside.

In a large, heat-resistant bowl set over a pot of simmering water, melt the chocolate and butter, stirring occasionally. Remove the bowl from the heat and whisk in the cocoa powder. In a small bowl, whisk the egg yolks to break them up, and then whisk into the chocolate mixture. Set aside.

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, whip the eggs whites and salt on medium speed until foamy. Increase the speed to high and gradually add the sugar. Continue to whip to medium peaks — the peaks will droop slightly when you lift up the whisk. Stir the egg whites, rather vigorously, into the warm chocolate mixture, until no white streaks are visible. You need not be gentle. This cake is best without a lot of air incorporated into it. Stir in the pecans. Transfer the batter to the prepared pan, smooth it out, and pour the ganache on top. Using a spoon or your fingers, marble the ganache into the batter.

Bake in the center of the oven for about 45 minutes or until the center of the cake no longer looks shiny. The cake will be puffed up and wobbly in the center but set on the edges. It's a soft cake that will firm up as it cools. Cool the cake completely on a wire rack before removing the side from the pan.

To slice the cake (easiest when it is chilled), run a long knife under hot water, then wipe it off with a towel and cut the cake into 12 slices. The cake can be kept three days at room temperature or up to five days if refrigerated.

CHOCOLATE GANACHE

1 cup plus 2 tablespoons heavy cream
4 ounces semisweet chocolate (approximately 3/4 cup)
4 ounces bittersweet chocolate (approximately 3/4 cup)
1 tablespoon light corn syrup

In a small saucepan, bring the cream to the scalding point over medium-high heat. In a medium-sized heat-resistant bowl, combine the semisweet chocolate, bittersweet chocolate and corn syrup. Pour the scalded cream over the chocolate mixture and gently whisk until the chocolate is completely melted and smooth.

This recipe will make considerably more ganache than you will need for the gâteau.



"A sensational specialty, made only in the castle town of Vignola outside Modena (Italy), Torta Barozzi is to chocolate cake what a diamond is to zircon," Lynne Rossetto Kasper writes in The Splendid Table.

Working ahead: The Barozzi can be baked ahead and has admirable keeping qualities. It can be frozen for two months. Serve at room temperature.

TORTA BAROZZI
(Makes one 8-inch cake; serves 6 to 8)

For the cake:
1/2 cup (2 ounces) pecans, toasted
2 tablespoons confectioner's sugar
4 tablespoons cocoa (not Dutch process)
1-1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter
3 to 4 tablespoons cocoa for dusting pan
8 tablespoons (4 ounces) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon (4 ounces) sugar
4-1/2 tablespoons smooth peanut butter
4 extra-large eggs, separated
6 ounces bittersweet chocolate, melted and cooled
2-1/2 tablespoons instant espresso coffee granules, dissolved in 1 tablespoon boiling water
1-1/2 teaspoons dark rum
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
For decoration:
1 tablespoon cocoa
1/2 tablespoon confectioner's sugar

Making pecan powder: Combine the pecans, 2 tablespoons confectioner's sugar and 3 tablespoons cocoa in a food processor fitted with a steel blade. Process until the pecans are a fine powder.

Blending the batter: Butter the bottom and side of an 8-inch springform pan with 1 tablespoon of butter. Cut a circle of parchment paper to cover the bottom of the pan. Butter the paper with 1/2 tablespoon butter and line the pan with it, butter side up. Use the 3 to 4 tablespoons cocoa to coat the entire interior of the springform pan, shaking out any excess. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees, and set a rack in the center of the over.

Using an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment or a hand-held electric mixer, beat the butter and sugar at medium speed for 8 to 10 minutes, or until almost white and very fluffy. Scrape down the sides of the bowl several times during beating. Beating the butter and sugar to absolute airiness ensures the torta's fine grain and melting lightness.

Still at medium speed, beat in the peanut butter. Then beat in the egg yolks, two at a time, until smooth. Reduce the speed to medium-low, and beat in the melted chocolate, the dissolved coffee, and the rum and vanilla. Then use a big spatula to fold in the pecan powder by hand, keeping the batter light.

Whip the egg whites to stiff peaks. Lighten the chocolate batter by folding a quarter of the whites into it. Then fold in the rest, keeping the mixture light but without leaving any streaks of white.

Baking: Turn the batter into the baking pan, gently smoothing the top. Bake 15 minutes. Then reduce the oven heat to 350 degrees and bake another 15 to 20 minutes, or until a tester inserted in the center of the cake comes with a few streaks of thick batter. The cake will have puffed about two-thirds of the way up the sides of the pan. Cool the cake 10 minutes in the pan set on a rack. The cake will settle slightly but will remain level. Spread a kitchen towel on a large plate, and turn the cake out onto it. Peel off the parchment paper and cool the cake completely. Then place a round cake plate on top of the cake and hold the two plates together as you flip them over so the torta is right side up on the cake plate.

Serving: Just before serving, sift the tablespoon of cocoa over the cake. Then top it with a sifting of the confectioner's sugar. Serve at room temperature, slicing it in small wedges.