Thursday, November 29, 2012

a slice of cake



There were only three of us for the holidays - me, mama and daddy. In fact, it was always just the three of us. And that was just fine by me. 

As each year came to a close and the north Georgia mountains took on its icy glaze, I was certain of a few things. 

First, it was time to kill the hog, and that meant, all the fresh sausage I could hold. Biscuits and thick, bubbly sausage gravy with tidbits of meat weighing it down as only mama could make. Daddy preferred the red-eye gravy, and mama would make it for him. I would turn up my nose and reach for the creamy goo instead. 

Then, there were fried pies. In the fall, mama would dry the apples on tattered, discarded front door screens. After a few days, she would gather, then freeze them in the little quart boxes for a winter treat. I couldn't stand it. Inevitably, within a couple of weeks of stacking the boxes neatly in calculated rows in the freezer, I would drag out a box and beg for fried pies. She'd roll out a dough, cut it hap-haphazardly, stuff it with cooked apples, and with bubbling oil in the iron skillet, she'd drop them in. I'd hold my breath until I finally saw the edges turning brown. She would scoop each ready one onto a towel and simultaneously give me the evil eye. I had to wait. Not long, but I still had to wait. Finally, she'd nod and I'd grab. The taste of that first bite would hold me all winter.

Finally, her orange slice cake. We hated fruit cakes, but there was something about this cake - even though it had most of the same ingredients - that had the perfect crunch, the perfect flavor. I honestly can't remember taking part in the baking, but I do remember the moment she took it out of the oven. She'd pour the glaze onto the steaming cake, and it inhaled the orange juice mixture. I'd watch puddles form on the plate, and it took all the strength in me not to run my finger around the plate's edge. Again, it was the evil eye. 

For those fruit cake haters, here's a variation that just might turn into a tradition. A couple of things to keep in mind: it takes forever to cook and it weighs a ton. As for the evil eye, you will have to work on that one yourself. 

Juette's Orange Slice Cake

For the cake: 

1 cup butter
2 cups sugar
4 eggs
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 cup buttermilk
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 (12-ounce) box dried dates, chopped
1 pound orange slice candies, chopped
2 cups pecans, chopped
1/2 cup flour for dredging
2 cups sweetened coconut flakes

For the glaze:

2 cups powdered sugar
1 cup orange juice


Preheat oven to 250 degrees. Grease and flour a tube pan.

For the cake: In a large bowl, cream butter and sugar together until fluffy. Add eggs one at a time, mixing well after each addition. In a separate bowl, dissolve baking soda in buttermilk. Add flour to butter mixture alternating with the buttermilk mixture, beginning and ending with flour. In another bowl, toss dates, nuts and chopped orange slices in 1/2 cup flour until coated. Stir in coconut until well-combined. Add to batter and mix until well combined.
Bake in a prepared pan for about 2 hours or until a toothpick inserted in center comes out clean.

For the glaze: Meanwhile, combine powdered sugar and orange juice in a small bowl until smooth. Remove cake from pan and cool cake completely. Drizzle glaze over cake. Or, when cake comes out of the oven, use a toothpick to poke holes and pour glaze on cake. Let cake stand in tube pan overnight before inverting. 




Saturday, November 17, 2012

traveling full circle

Gone November 16, 2012
Can it be? No more Twinkies? No more Ho Ho's? Why do all the things that we love - and cake and goo are at the top of love list - disappear and fade away? Albeit greed, in my opinion, that erased this icon from the grocery store shelves, it seems to be following the lead of most everything in life.

My daughter's new do.
What became of the classics? The Huckleberry Finns and the Tom Sawyers replaced with vampires and werewolves? The Louis Vuitton Speedy or a string of glass pearls fall behind Juicy or Vera Wang? The classic and sleek bob has been replaced by mountains of gel and long locks trimmed in green (I know the picture is side-ways. It doesn't look any better the other way.). My grip of reality is slowing slipping.

It's those things that are steadfast, consistent, resilient, that we come to appreciate most of all. We know that in the morning we'll wake up and there will be coffee brewing in the kitchen, the cat will be cuddled on my legs, and my slippers will be just a leg drop away. This assurance, I suppose, is something we all take for granted until the world turns on its axis rather unexpectedly. I don't like it when this happens. I like to know that if I eat my black-eyed peas on New Years, I will definitely accumulate thousands of pennies during the coming year. This is so. I have a waist deep plastic cola-cola shaped container that holds mountains of concrete proof from 2012. See, I ate my peas and I have pennies.

I guess everything comes full circle. Things begin with contagious hope, run their course, and then in the whirl-wind of life, they lose a bit of steam after they have given it all they've got, they slow down and bow out with a graceful good-bye. With lots of successes, lots of memories and lots of stories.

Those stories - of a life cycle well traveled - are those I want to tell and record. There are people and places and things that must not be forgotten. Like, the normalcy I felt when mama opted for my first store-bought dress instead of a hand-made one. The teenage tears that poured upon cutting my waist long hair up to my shoulders. Touching my children for the first time. Holding my breath as the gavel fell.

Tell me your story, so I can tell your story. I am looking for those who have lived a long life, those that have wisdom and advice that should not fade away. Stories of hardship and triumph, war heroes who went to war and those who waited at home, lovers, dreamers, brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers. I want to find you. Help me find you.

My full circle journey begins now, and I'm proud you're going with me. The website will be launched the first of the year and you'll get to meet some great people that will change your life. In the meantime, please help me find the stories before they fade.

Contact me at seeingsouthern@gmail.com