A Fuss Over Sweet Rewards
From the way some of my recent efforts in the kitchen have turned out, you would never guess that I was recognized as my high school’s “Betty Crocker Future Homemaker of the Year.” That was in the days before building self-esteem in students was even thought of, so not much fuss was made over the award. It was the same with my being named valedictorian (of my class of 35 students). My father was so pleased, and told me to start writing my speech. But when he went to talk to the principal, he was told there would be no speeches. He protested and emphasized the significance of my accomplishment, but the nun downplayed the achievement. “Ann is just good at taking tests,” she explained dismissively.
It’s no wonder years later when I started working for landscape architect Fred Lang, he told me, “You really need more self-confidence.” Nothing builds self-confidence like being told you need it.
Nevertheless I persistently bumbled forward, applying my Catholic school training in a search for excellence with a good conscience attached. I became a pretty good cook and a landscape architect too.
The problem with all those delicious recipes I used to make—the desserts from grandma’s note cards, and the butter-laden dishes from Julia Child—is that we’re not allowed to eat much of those foods any more. It’s one thing to order a single portion of crème bruleé in a restaurant. It’s another to make a whole pie or cake when there are just two of us to eat it.
So the recipe cards stay in the box waiting for a special occasion. It’s then that I find out I am completely out of practice and out of ingredients as well.
I invited our friends Bob and Vicki over to celebrate his serious decade birthday. I decided to make “Aunt Ethel’s Chocolate Dutch Oven Cake” with whipped chocolate frosting. I should have known this was not going to be as simple a project as I remembered when I found that the squares of baking chocolate in the back of the cupboard had become a wildlife habitat. Tiny insects had eaten through the aluminum foil and were quite happily turning the chocolate squares into cocoa dust.
When I found the jar of cake flour I saw that the top inch or so was brownish. I attributed that to “oxidation.” I’m a real chemist. So I carefully spooned off the top questionable layer and scooped below for the amount I needed for the cake batter. Shortening was in a can in the back of the refrigerator. That hadn’t been there too long, had it? Fresh eggs and recently purchased sugar went into the batter. Stir. Stir. Hm. The batter didn’t smell quite right—didn’t taste quite right either. Was it the flour or the shortening? I didn’t know, but the whole batch went into the compost along with the rest of the cake flour. I started over, this time using newer regular flour and butter. The double recipe went into the two Dutch ovens for baking.
This was Saturday. Fortunately the dinner wasn’t until Sunday, leaving plenty of time to make the frosting. This involves melting (the new) chocolate squares and butter and then adding those to sugar and eggs and emulsifying it all in a mixer, using an outer bowl of ice water to make it set up. Well, after the melted mixture was ready I discovered that my 1930s mixer was making some alarming noises. So Alfredo and I spent about a half an hour taking it apart, oiling and putting it back together again. Runs beautifully. On with the frosting. The bowl of ice was ready. The inner bowl with eggs and sugar was mixed. Time to add the butter and chocolate, which was still liquidy. “Still okay,” I thought rustily. But it had cooled too much and the ice had had too much time changing the temperature of the eggs and sugar. The chocolate and butter began congealing on the side of the bowl. Soon there were chips of chocolate floating around the soupy frosting mix. It would never set up, I knew.
Back to the store for more chocolate and butter to start the frosting all over again. Reset. Repeat. This time the frosting was whipped and stiff and had the bittersweet taste I remembered. The cake and layers came together just fine.
And so did the dinner. A great deal of fuss was made over the cake. Bob recalled that I had shared another Aunt Ethel’s cake with him when we first worked together in 1970. He took some to share at his office.
Striving for excellence despite silly obstacles has its sweet rewards.
- Recipes for the above cake and frosting are available in return for a generous donation to the South Laguna Community Garden Park (southlaguna.org/garden).
Landscape architect Ann Christoph is a former council member.
