Let Us Eat Cake!

There are two reasons that I decided to start off the recipes with some family favorite cakes. (Two reasons beside the fact that I really love to eat cake.) I recently had the pleasure of chatting with Elder and Sister Ahlborn on Skype. Dad mentioned that all Albanian cakes are dry. Locals will pour a mixture of sugar water over the baked cake to moisten them up, but the effect is not so pleasant to the American palette. My Dad needs some good, moist cake or at the very least some good, moist cake recipes. The second reason cake is getting such a showing is because I personally thank the dessert for my existence. In the words of Mom/Grandma Dotty/Dot, here is the true story of "The Dry Cake and the Baking Contest":

"I made my first cake from scratch when I was eight years old. Mama was expecting her eighth baby, my sister Kathy, and was very tired that day as I embarked on my first baking adventure. She was resting in her bedroom, and I would walk from the pantry to her room for instructions for each step of a basic white cake. Somewhere in the process I got the amounts for the flour and milk mixed up and wound up with a very soupy mixture. Mama got up, came in and helped me add more flour and a cup of raisins to absorb the excess moisture. It came out in a solid form and the large, hungry family ate it. Over the next eight years I perfected my skills until I became the family’s chief spice cake maker. We had an oversized sheet cake pan that provided enough cake for a family of ten children.

It was during my sixteenth year that the Ahlborn family moved into our neighborhood. Their eldest son, Ernest, had grown up helping in the kitchen and was adept and confident with any kind of food preparation. He could read instructions with ease and would tackle any project put before him.

It was a pleasant Sunday evening the end of May 1963 when I was walking down our street where my sister Joan and Ernest were waiting for a ride to a young adult fireside. I stopped to chat and Ernest suggested that I come along. I don’t remember the speaker or subject of the fireside but I do remember the chocolate cake served for refreshments and Ernest’s comment. “This is a really dry cake. A woman must have made it.” I immediately spoke up in defense of my gender and asked why he made such a comment. His answer, “Women only cook because they have to. All the great chefs are men.” Those were fighting words, and I challenged him to a duel. This was a cake baking contest I was sure to win. A day and place were set, and at the appointed time I walked the four houses down the street with my sheet cake pan and ingredients. We chose his kitchen for the contest because ours was teeming with younger siblings, and I didn’t want any distractions.

I went first, measuring the ingredients by heart because I had done this so many times before. While my cake was baking, Ernest took out his mother’s cookbook and began measuring and mixing. He chose two round pans for his cake. He finished pouring the batter into the pans just as the timer rang for my cake to come out. With oven mitts on and in great anticipation of a beautiful cake I opened the oven door. In front of my eyes was a cake kind of high on the sides and flat in the middle. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before! This was a tried and true recipe and even though our street went slightly downhill to his house that shouldn’t be enough altitude change to mess up the recipe.

While Ernest’s cake baked I carefully re-measured, mixed and had another sheet cake ready to bake when his rounds were finished. His came out beautiful, high and golden. A half hour later my second sheet cake came out of the oven as flat as the first. I was dumb struck! What could have gone wrong twice? Just then Ernest’s father came in the door. Observing the disaster his only comment was, “Didn’t Ernest tell you our oven doesn’t bake sheet cakes for some reason. They come out flat every time.” My opponent felt very bad, and I decided to plunge the dagger in deeper, offering to ice his cake. I finished it off with bold letters in dark icing, ERNEST WON! To make up, he offered to take me to a movie. One date turned into another and the rest is history. I married my opponent and have been baking him moist cakes ever since."

Look for lots of yummy cakes in the days to come. For starters, here is Mom's tried and true Applesauce Spice Cake (also my wedding cake) from her very first Betty Crocker Cookbook. It tastes divine with cream cheese frosting.

APPLESAUCE SPICE CAKE

Ingredients:
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
1 1/2 tsp. baking soda
1 1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. baking powder
3/4 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp. ground cloves
1/2 tsp. allspice
1 1/2 cups applesauce
1/2 cup oil
1/2 c. water
2 large eggs

Directions:
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease and flour a 13x9x2 inch sheet pan. In a large bowl, mix all of the dry ingredients together. In a separate bowl, whisk together the applesauce, oil, water and eggs. Add to the dry ingredients and blend until smooth. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for 40-45 minutes.