Every once in a while a dessert is so good that it disappears before you get to serve yourself. This is exactly what happened to me earlier this week. I’ll get to why I can’t take full credit, but first here’s what happened.

I work with people who celebrate birthdays. Despite their highly ritualized, overtly saccharine trappings, these periodic office events are a custom worth preserving and not just for the inevitable food. Every once in a while we stop what we’re doing for few minutes and acknowledge together that there is more to us than the work we that we’ve been hired to do. Each of us has a history, an identity, and a future that includes, but is so much more than what others see on the job. Not only that, but workplaces have hierarchies. Some are explicit in titles and reporting structures. Others operate through social networks and not infrequently in the Jewish world through kinship ties, as well. Our birthday celebrations are egalitarian. Everyone gets one with a personal card signed individually by all.

We had a triple birthday bash, such as it is, planned for the end of a staff meeting this week. My offer to provide cupcakes was graciously accepted. Unfortunately, when it came down to it the night before, I was still working on a project that needed to get finished and wasn’t in the frame of mind to bake, frost, and pack a couple of dozen cupcakes for the trip downtown in the morning. Not wanting to disappoint entirely, I made an Apple Cake from ingredients that I had in the kitchen. By baking it in an easily transportable five-pound loaf pan, I solved my carrying dilemma, too.

Admittedly, I felt a little sheepish presenting a giant apple cake loaf instead of the promised cupcakes. The party planner seemed unconcerned when he took it from on top of the file cabinet in my office. It reappeared several hours later still in the pan, but sporting a dozen or so little birthday candles. The kind usually reserved for children’s parties and cupcakes. The overall effect was sufficiently loopy to make the discussion of the war in Gaza that we’d been having for the last hour retreat just enough to allow a brief, but genuine celebration.

apple-cake-_6.jpgThe strangest thing happened. The cake disappeared. In less than two minutes, it was entirely gone save for two small bites at one end. I was standing a few feet away, but had no idea where it went. Then a few people started talking about how good it was. One is a former caterer, another never eats desserts. The next day, someone else ended a business an e-mail, “That cake was amazing!” Word of the apple cake quickly spread across the bay to the Marin office. So I made two more (a smaller loaf and an 8-inch square), one of which was enjoyed at seudah shelishit (the third Shabbat meal) in Berkeley earlier today.

I can’t take full credit for all of this fast disappearing, very delicious cake. Recently, I met Carol Koenig at Hazon’s third annual Jewish food conference. Carol is food writer Leah Koenig’s mom, though she rightfully wants the world to know that she is a person in her right. I’m very proud to publicize right here that Carol is a fine baker. She graciously shared the parve apple cake recipe with me that’s led to all the rave reviews. Her cousin brought this cake to her house one year for Rosh Hashanah. Ever since, it’s been Carol’s recipe, too.

Being myself, I couldn’t help but change it a bit by substituting whole wheat pastry flour for half of the all purpose flour and adding small amounts of nutmeg, mace, and cloves to the cinnamon. This is still an easy cake to prepare. Don’t be put off by the stiffness of the batter which is almost as thick as soft cookie dough. During baking the juice from the apples suffuses the batter producing a moist tender crumb. Carol’s cousin uses Golden Delicious apples with good results, but I agree with her that tart Granny Smiths are a better choice.

Warning: This cake is sweeter than usual for my baking, but dessert mavens all over the Bay Area like it that way. Who am I to disagree?