Some of my fondest childhood memories are of time spent in my grandmother's kitchen. She and I had a very special bond, and I could talk to her about anything. Nanny was a fabulous cook, and we had many meaningful conversations in her little kitchen while she chopped and stirred and I watched and learned. Many of her recipes stemmed from her Southern roots, but she also tried her hand at many ethnic cuisines. Her spaghetti with meatballs was fabulous (my uncle and aunt requested it every time they visited, and she always had it waiting for them when they arrived). My sister and I frequently requested that she make chop suey when we were visiting, and I also remember several occasions of sitting on her countertop watching her and my grandfather flip delicate crepes before filling them with delicious almond/chicken/cream or seafood fillings. Her very best dishes, though, the ones that family and friends requested time after time, were things like chicken and pastry (what she called her version of chicken and dumplings, because she rolled out the dough and dropped it into the pot in long strips rather than making little dumpling shapes), a meat (usually roast chicken or pork chops) with three or four vegetables and fried cornbread, gumbos, and creoles (she must have had a little Cajun in her blood somewhere!).
My job, from the time I was tiny, was to "sit and watch." Whenever we were visiting, I'd ask, "Nanny, can I help?" and her reply was always, "No, but you can sit and watch." When I was very young, she'd plop me on the counter next to her. As I got older, I'd pull up a stool. And watch I did. I wanted to learn how to make all of these wonderful foods. Nanny taught my own mother, her daughter-in-law, how to cook, and I wanted to learn too. I was an avid pupil, asking questions and taking furious mental notes. "Why doesn't the pastry fall apart when you stir it?" "Because you don't stir it dahlin', you just give it a little push down with the spoon so the ones on the bottom can float up and have a turn on the top every now and again." ... "What's the secret in your spaghetti sauce?" "A dash of Worchestershire and a little sugah, Sugah." ...
In that tiny galley kitchen, I learned many things. Now, many of my husband and children's favorite dishes are things Nanny taught me how to cook. In addition to cooking, though, boy, could she bake. Every year, each of her three children (even into adulthood until she died two years ago) asked for a homemade, from scratch, red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting. And she made the three cakes every year (nevermind the fact that their birthdays fell on March 26, April 10, and April 11 -- that's a lot of cake in a two-week time period!). She made pound cakes that were the envy of the church ladies. For a long time, she had a sourdough starter going and made bread a couple times a week -- three loaves at a time, shared with friends and neighbors. My favorite, though...the cake that brought me to my knees and that had my husband exclaim "Holy S!#t that's good cake!" the first time we tried it, respectfully, was her carrot cake. After that particular incident, "Nan's Carrot Cake" was re-named "Holy S!#t Carrot Cake," which, thankfully, was re-christened once again when we had to censor ourselves in front of our children. We called it "Holy Mackerel Carrot Cake," which they remember and request as "Hodey Mackel Cake." It's delicious, by far the best carrot cake you'll ever put in your mouth. I keep three copies of the recipe -- one in my recipe folder, one online, and one in my safe deposit box -- that's how important it is. It's well worth the time and effort (and expense) involved. I hope you'll try it. Nan will smile down on you if you do...
Nan's "Hodey Mackel" Carrot Cake
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking soda
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 large eggs
2 cups sugar
3/4 cup vegetable oil
3/4 cup buttermilk
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 cups grated carrots (about 3 large carrots)
1 (8-ounce) can crushed pineapple, drained
1 (3 1/2-ounce) can sweetened flaked coconut
1 cup chopped pecans or walnuts
Buttermilk Glaze (DO NOT SKIP THIS)
Cream cheese frosting
Stir together first four ingredients.
Beat eggs and next four ingredients at medium speed until smooth. Add flour mixture, beating at low speed until blended. Fold in carrots and next three ingredients. Pour batter into a greased and floured 9x13 inch pan.
Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes; cover pan loosely with foil to prevent excessive browning, and bake 13 more minutes or until a toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Poke 20-30 holes in top of cake with toothpick or wooden skewer. Drizzle buttermilk glaze over cake; cool completely in pan. Spread cream cheese frosting evenly over cake.
Buttermilk Glaze
1 cup sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
1/2 cup butter or margarine
1/2 cup buttermilk
1 tablespoon light corn syrup
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Bring sugar, baking soda, butter, buttermilk, and corn syrup to a boil in a Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Boil, stirring often, 4 minutes or until mixture is golden brown. Remove from heat and stir in vanilla extract.
Cream Cheese Frosting
1/2 cup butter or margarine
1 (8-ounce) package cream cheese, softened
1 (3-ounce) package cream cheese, softened
1 (16-ounce) package powdered sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
Beat butter and cream cheese at medium speed until creamy. Add powdered sugar (a little at a time) and vanilla extract; beat at high speed until smooth.
Enjoy!
(C) 2010 Lisa Kuebler
*Originally published on Open.Salon.Com, May 9, 2010.
Recipe adapted from an ancient issue of Southern Living.
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