Source: To Kill A Mockingbird. It’s set in Depression-era small town Alabama, mostly in the genteel neighborhood where people can afford extra food. We all love it. We all have mixed feelings about the sequel.
Context: Miss Maudie is a family friend of the main child characters, who’s known for her cakes and gives the kids a adult perspective from time to time.
My friend at The Next Betz Thing actually suggested several weeks ago I try to recreate Maudie’s pound cake. The timing here isn’t completely cynical.
Betz has this to say about that:
For me, some of the most memorable moments in To Kill a Mockingbird were Scout’s interactions with Miss Maudie. And while Miss Maudie had numerous wonderful qualities as a character, for some reason, the thing that always stuck with me most was the passion with which she guarded her cake recipes from the other neighborhood ladies.
I like to think the reason it stuck with me most is due to the contrast of a Southern lady’s concern over her cake recipes with the darker backdrop of the Great Depression. But considering I first read this book when I was in fifth grade, I’m pretty sure it’s more likely that I remember these scenes because I’m really into cake.
When I was a kid, I don’t think I could have imagined a better ending to a conversation with an adult than “How’d you like some fresh poundcake to take home?” Really, it’s no wonder that Scout and Jem considered Miss Maudie to be a friend
At some point, I’ll also revisit this book for Miss Maudie’s Lane cake. But, just as in the book, she saves this for big-time company and thanking a neighbor who helped out with her burning house, I’ll save it for a major personal celebration, or Easter. Whichever comes later.
Meanwhile, I’ve got an okay grasp on pound cake. So, for everyday use/for the neighborhood kids with big new questions about society and life:
Recipe: Pound cake is pretty classic. It doesn’t vary a whole lot from recipe to recipe. Miss Maudie’s is probaby so good less because she has a secret ingredient and more because she’s got her technique down like that.
I used a recipe from the 1920s, which wouldn’t be far off hers. A full-pound cake would of course have a full pound of everything, but this one stretches a long way with a little.
And if that marshmallow lemon cake below piques your interest…
I’ve always been scared to try that one myself.
But to the pound cake: look how simple the Ingredients are.
If you can afford to make any cake during the Depression, you can afford to make this.
Equipment: I cheated here in a couple of ways. First is the scale. Miss Maudie’s probably looked like this:
Mine, pictured with ingredients, does not look like that. It was a Christmas gift during the 2010s, used during the leaner years for an authentic vintage appliance budget. I think Miss Maudie would approve of the thrift
The other way is the pan. Non-stick cookware wasn’t even a twinkle in anyone’s eye until 1938 and beyond, which is why our friend Ida C. the recipe writer uses oiled paper in hers. I will buy an old non-non-stick pan when I find one and can determine it’s actually food safe by today’s standards.
Meanwhile, non-stick is what’s already in the cupboard. I greased it, but didn’t use paper. I think Miss Maudie would have saved trees, too, if she’d had the option.
Process:
Cream butter and sugar. Do it properly.
Then added the sugar a little at a time, to be manageable:
Remember to beat this for a solid five minutes. Everything follows from well-creamed butter and sugar, which should be a nice, fluffy cohesive mass that’ll take a fourth of the flour with no problem.
Weigh the flour before sifting it with the salt:
Be careful adding the flour, so you don’t tamp down the fluffy siftedness. It doesn’t hurt to sift a second time when adding it.
Beat gently, again to preserve the fluff.
This is probably the best time to add flavoring. I used vanilla, plain and simple, but I’d imagine Miss Maudie has a dynamite secret combo, akin to rose and almond, that makes her cake so special.
Speculations are welcome. That’s what this blog’s supposed to be about.
Here, this recipe always throws me. For space’s sake, the steps aren’t in chronological order: you have to read the whole thing to know how to start (like, how hot to preheat the oven).
I’m bad at reading recipes all the way through in the best of times, so if you’re anything like me, your eggs aren’t beaten until thick right now either.
If you rinse your beaters now, this will take a minute or two. It’s about twice as long by hand, plus one or two sore biceps.
Slowly combine the eggs into the batter. Again, those bubbles are what makes your cake not an inedible brick, so be careful not to flatten them.
It doesn’t hurt to sift the flour/salt mixture again before adding it. It’s had time to settle by now, after all.
By now, folding the dry ingredients in with a rubber spatula is pretty easy, and the most fool-proof method.
Rubber spatulas, incidentally, would have been in use in an experienced cakemaker’s home in the 1930’s. It took at least six Google searches to come to that conclusion. Soon I will get myself to the library and do this properly.
Anyway, be strong but gentle. Scrape the sides of the bowl, lift the batter up from the bottom, and keep scraping, lifting, and swirling until you don’t see any more white.
Eventually, the batter should pull away from the sides of the bowl on its own. It should all hold together. I’ve learned that when you see this, you’ve done right, and you’re on your way to a nicely risen cake.
It should just fall into the pan in one big fall of pale gold goodness, and not leave much into the bowl to lick.
You need a free morning or afternoon for this cake. The good news is, once it’s in the oven for it’s hour and forty five minutes, you’re tied to the house with nothing to do but that project you’ve been putting off. Clean the bathroom, read a few chapters, sketch out the next blog post, reassure the kids on your porch who wondering why some people are so mad about what their dad’s been doing at work lately, etc.
I confess my oven was too hot to start with, and I didn’t have time to let it cool down. So this is a little dark and dense on top.
But it slid out of the pan nicely, even without oiled paper.
And has that singular pound cake glow inside.
Ready to serve.
Coming soon: for Pizza Week 2015, a post that’s not about cake.
Cheers,
The Wednesday Woman