The hunt began in mid-1988 for the chocolate cake with white frosting recipe. My mom started the search after my grandma died in April of that year, but had found no written copy of the from-scratch recipe when she helped clean out "the farm" in south San Diego county where my dad had grown up. I was away at college, finishing my freshman year, oblivious to what I wanted, if anything, from my grandma's home.
But then came my 20th birthday in early 1989 and I desperately wanted Grandma's cake. Truth be told, my dad craved it as much as I did. We both adored the cake-to-frosting ratio. Two layers of cake were separated by just enough of a vanilla buttercream to mellow the dark chocolate cocoa cake without overpowering it with sweetness. The top and sides were covered in only a slightly thicker layer of the same frosting.
The search took years and several birthdays filled with hope, only to tell my mom truthfully that it wasn't quite THE one. She never complained, though she did give in a few times to fancying up the cake. It was just too plain for my mom, a woman with flair in everything she does. For my part, I just could not stomach the raspberry filling between the layers, nor the pink frosting.
We hit pay dirt when my mom finally tried the recipe that had been on the back of the Hershey's cocoa can for years. Probably decades. The same recipe is still on that can.
Then something quite unexpected happened this morning. My grandma smiled down on me in a way she hasn't in years. Perhaps she was chuckling about the conversation my former partner and our youngest son had yesterday about what is now also his favorite cake. His birthday is in just over a week and he has asked for The Cake.
That printing on the back of the cocoa can, that's not actually my cake, Grandma said loud and clear, as I turned the delicate pages of a cookbook originally published in 1894 and given to me seven or eight years ago. I was searching for a gingerbread recipe that I hoped might be in there.
My stepmom also worked to clear out my grandma's house and Mary clearly had me in mind as she gathered keepers, slowly gifting them to me for various occasions, or sometimes randomly, on my visits to her's and Dad's house in Los Angeles.
Records of historical events (the Cuban Missile Crisis; gas shortages), death dates of her siblings, hospitalizations (of her and my grandpa), her state of mind when my dad moved out and when she broke her hip.
And so, I have kept my distance from the cookbook in all the years it has been perched in the cupboard above my stove.
April 15- 1986 - US bombed Libya. Wonder what will happen now. Need rain. I'm real lame, and lonesome.
Bud (my dad) married Valentine's Day 1965.
1975 - Bud alone again so sad. (My parents divorced in 1974.)
June 22- 1982 (my grandma's birthday) am alone and lonely.
The loneliness seeped into my bones this morning while I read more of the cookbook diary than ever before. But eventually some of the entries tempered my sadness. Very slightly.
Jan 26- 1969 - Baby Kimberly born (my parents started calling me Jill a week or so after I was born) - so sweet. Still miss her Daddy at home. So lonesome.
July 29- 1974 Jill's first day at school. Rainy.
Jan 26- 1977 - Jill's birthday - she's so sweet - had her eyes operated on Jan 21 - took care of her yesterday.
Jan 27- 1969 - saw baby for the first time she's so beautiful.
Two pages ahead of the note above, on a page printed only with ADDITIONAL RECIPES, Hot Supper Dishes, Grandma had written in her tidy script
Cocoa Delight Cake. Jill's favorite.
Holy cats! THE RECIPE! It's been in my cupboard for close to a decade. Somewhere in the nooks of Mary's kitchen for nearly 30 years before that. My mom must not have ever seen the cookbook before it was added to Dad and Mary's stash.
This little spiral notebook is a history - of my country, my family, the life of a woman born in 1898, a member of the Lost Generation.
Grandma was a farmer's wife at heart. Long after my grandpa died in 1957, she wrote often of the need for rain. She tracked her life in a book she turned to nearly every day to feed her family, then just herself.
Her words suggest she often felt lost. I hope that in some small way I helped Grandma set that feeling aside the once a week or so that I went to her house, or called her for a gab session, for most of the 19 years we both walked this planet.
And today, for mysterious and beautiful reasons, she has led me to the longed-for cake recipe. It was never actually lost, just waiting.
Now excuse me while I go make the best Hot Supper Dish ever!!!!
Comments
Post a Comment