The chocolate cake of my dreams is a Swedish one called kladdkaka, which I ate in Stockholm, where I lived one spring. It was sticky, rich and barely able to contain itself: when cut, it oozed out on to the plate. I’d eat it with fruit, for balance (and decency) – the sharper the better. Although this cake isn’t quite that one, it is just as rich, a little fruity, and a sweet little throwback to that springtime in Stockholm.
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Hmmm... asf
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