Lucindy with Grandparents (Galveston, 1955)
I only knew one of my grandmothers, and I adored her. She passed away when I was 21 and in all that time, a cross word was never shared.
Every summer, my mother would drive me to Shreveport, Louisiana so I could stay with Gran for 2 weeks. My job was to water her plants—hydrangeas and gardenia bushes--each morning and afternoon. Much time was spent resting and reading the hundred library books I checked out, as I lay under the back porch window-fan.
In the afternoons, we played Rummy. At night, Gran and I would take turns reciting poetry to each other until we fell asleep. Saturday evenings were devoted to Lawrence Welk with Gran regaling me about the personal lives of the stars of the show.
Gran had been a seamstress and made nearly every dress I ever wore until I started college. She also taught me sewing basics on her Singer treadle sewing machine. However, my favorite teaching moment came when she taught me how to make her famous pound cake.
This was a MAJOR event. I never cooked with her, but on this visit, she had a “plan.” Every day . . . for FIVE days, we made "the" pound cake. We went through every step . . . fluffing the butter, sifting and adding confectioner’s sugar. Then more fluffing (no such thing as too much fluff). Then adding one egg at a time and beating till fully incorporated (and fluffy). Then the lemon juice and orange extract and finally the sifted and resifted flour.
Carefully, we scooped the batter into the prepared pan and baked it until just done (still a little moist on top). It was perfection and was part of my cooking repertoire until I forgot the recipe! I had never written it down.
Two days ago, on the phone with my son and his wife Kendall, I asked my new daughter-in-law about her favorite dessert. With no hesitation, she quickly replied: vanilla pound cake!
To make the situation worse, my son boasted, “Mom makes the BEST pound cake.” I gasped and whined, “Oh my God! I have no idea how to make a pound cake anymore. Allen, you were probably five when I last prepared one.” Allen replied, as is typical of my children, “Well, you have a week to figure it out.”
This is not to say that I hadn’t tried to make my gran’s pound cake over the decades, but it always turned out dry. I couldn’t turn to my aunt or mother since theirs were never up to the level of mine and gran’s. So . . . I gave up.
I try never to turn down a challenge by a loved one, be it from my grandson Austin to make turducken or from my son wanting his great grandmother’s pound cake for his new bride. So, this morning, I marched into the kitchen, then fell to my knees, crying out to my grandmother’s spirit: “Gran, you have GOT to help me remember how we did this!” Despite my bravado, I couldn’t imagine how my feeble mind would be able to recall memories from sixty plus years ago.
As I do with every challenge I face, I broke the process down into tiny steps or, in this case, “memory moments.” I moved slowly, channeling my grandmother, pretending she was watching me, just as she did when I was eight years old.
Room temp butter, fluffed and fluffed. Sifted confectioners sugar. I remembered!! 3 sticks butter and 16 oz. confectioners sugar, not granulated. Fluff . . . fluff . . . fluff. A gentle squeeze of lemon juice and a little vanilla. Fluff.
Next came the six eggs, room temperature. “Don’t rush! (I heard her say) One at a time and beat until the egg is completely incorporated.” “Yes, Ma’am,” I replied to Gran’s spirit, her hand resting on my shoulder.
Cake flour was used this time since 21st century flour is not the same used in the late 1950s. I mixed 3 C in, then poured the batter into 2 prepared loaf pans. “Gently!! Don’t bang the pan down like you do when you make macarons! Lightly spread to the corners of the pan by gently shaking.”
Interesting note. I had found a recipe that seemed really close to what I remembered but it was still off. Of course, confectioners replaced the granulated. Interestingly, instead of adding the blog recipe’s directive of 4 C of flour, I accidentally added just 3, only realizing my mistake after the cake was in the oven. Then I remembered that Gran used 3 C!
As the cake slowly began to rise, my grandmother whispered: “3/3/6/box. Three sticks of butter, 3 C of flour, 6 eggs, a 16 oz. box of confectioner’s sugar.” And the flavoring. Gran used orange extract and vanilla.
3/3/6/box was how I remembered the recipe all those years ago! Eureka!
Thanks, Gran. I miss you so much.
