Texas Sheet Cake

Here it is. The dessert of my dreams. I thought I knew what chocolate cake was, but I was wrong. So, so wrong.

This is honestly the best cake I've ever eaten. In my life. Ever. I would be lying if I didn't say that I had a piece on a plate in the kitchen that I get up every few minutes to take a hidden bite out of... It is that good.

The cake is chocolate-y. Soft. Crunchy. Fudge-y. Buttery. Thin. Perfect. Huge I mean, just look. How can this cake be bad?

Please, no comments from the weight watchers gallery. This cake is made for bad, rebellious people who eat what they want and you can't do anything about it. Don't judge me. It was my birthday and I'm in love.

The thing I really liked about this cake was that that it was easy. And I had most of the ingredients. And it was good. Did I say thing? I meant there's nothing about this cake I don't like, which is quite annoying.

The starting lineup. For the cake: 2 c. flour, 2 c. sugar, 1/4 tsp. salt, 4 heaping tbsp. cocoa powder, 2 sticks regular butter (no unsalted), 1 c. boiling water, 1/2 c. buttermilk (which can be created from adding vinegar to regular milk... who knew?), 2 eggs, 1 tsp. baking soda, and 1 tsp. vanilla.

WHEW. I know its a lot, but think - you actually know what those things are! No crazy, fancy ingredients that require specialty stores or a french accent to pronounce. Butter-milk. Buttermilk. You're good.

Melt the butter.

Add 4 heaping tablespoons of cocoa powder. Allow it to boil for about a minute and turn off the heat. Set it aside.

Mix together the flour, sugar, and salt.

Powder. Good.

Dump the chocolate mix into the flour mixture to help cool the chocolate off a bit. You'll be adding milk and dairy soon and no one wants cooked eggs in their cake!

Add two eggs to your buttermilk.

Add the vanilla and baking powder.

Mix it all up.

Add this to the chocolate/flour mixture and stir it all together.

It should look something like this when you're done.

Dump the mixture in an ungreased jelly roll pan (which I learned is a cookie sheet with edges). Spread it out so it's even.

Place it in the oven at 350 for 20 minutes. Be sure to take a before/ after smell test right now.

While this is cooking, take a moment or two to do some clean up and wash the saucepan you used to melt the butter earlier.

You need to because while you wait you're going to make the frosting!

I don't have a separate frosting line-up picture. I'm sorry. I'm new to this. You need 1 3/4 sticks regular butter, 4 heaping tbsp. cocoa powder, 6 tbsp. milk, 1 tsp. vanilla, 1 lb. powdered sugar, and 1/2 c. pecans (Optional, but only if you have nut allergies. If not, you really must put them in.)

Melt the butter y'all. Nothing bad has come from butter. Do not tell me otherwise.

Take your pecans and chop them up. Chop 'em up reall good and tiny. (Something about this cake makes me want to speak in a southern accent. Maybe it's all the butter and the Paula stuff in the news...)

Use a big knife. I promise it helps. Plus, you feel safer from robbers and murderers.

 See this. Those are tiny chopped pecans. Those are well chopped. That chopping takes skill. Just kidding, it just takes patience which I don't often have much left of when I get around to cooking!

When the butter's all melted, add your cocoa powder. Let it bubble for a minute before turning the heat off.

Add your milk and vanilla. 

Add the powdered sugar and realize you probably should've used a bigger saucepan. Oh well!

Stir slowly (since your pan is just a wee bit small until the sugar dissolves!). Keep stirring and stirring until it's smoooooth.

Throw your pecans right on in the vat of chocolate goodness.

Stir. Sigh. Stir. Sigh. Use a spoon to taste test for quality control. Sigh.

After the cake is out of the oven and the frosting is done, dump the warm frosting on the warm cake. The frosting pretty much spreads itself.

It needs a little help. But the pecans make it look rustic, so it doesn't matter too much if it isn't perfect!

Sit, stare, smell, and wait a few minutes until the frosting sets. (If you don't wait, the fudgey frosting will pool up in the missing piece's spot)

Do a favor for me? Eat a piece while it's warm. Know you're a bad, bad, rebellious human being and throw diets to the wind, for one piece.

Or a few pieces... Gahl, look at that texture.

I highly recommend a nice cold glass of milk with this cake. The cake is so rich that the milk does an excellent job making it even better, which you didn't know was possible until right now.

The question I haven't answered, which I know is on everyone's mind, is "Why is it called Texas Sheet Cake?" Well, let me tell you blogosphere, it's a cake as big and over-the-top as Texas and can have no other name. Except maybe Heaven, but God still hasn't responded to the copyright usage yet.