Great-Granny's Pound Cake

This has been a week full of celebration.  My birthday and my son's birthday fall just two days apart during this beautiful season of azaleas and dogwoods.  We both always want the same cake, so we often celebrate with it on the day between our birthdays.



The cake we both love so much is from a recipe my great-grandmother (for whom I was named) brought over from England when she immigrated.  Her daughter made it often, her granddaughter made it often, I make it often, and now my son can help continue the tradition.

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 Great-Granny's Pound Cake

3 cups sugar
1 cup butter (2 sticks)
6 eggs
3 cups flour
1 cup heavy cream
1 lemon, zested and juiced

1. Bring the butter and eggs to room temperature.

2. Prepare a tube pan or a bundt pan by greasing it with butter.  Sprinkle flour in the pan and shake to distribute.  Dump out any remaining flour.

3. Cream the butter and sugar until light and smooth.  A good stand mixer makes this process much easier, but you can do it with a hand egg beater if you are patient and strong.

4.  Add eggs, one at a time, and beat them in well.

5.  Mix in the lemon zest and lemon juice.

6.  Alternately add a little flour and a little cream and mix until all is incorporated.  Don't overbeat.

7.  Pour into the prepared cake mold, using a rubber spatula to get every last bit.

8.  Put the pan into a cold oven and set the temperature to 325 degrees Fahrenheit.  Cook for 90 minutes or until it is golden brown and smells heavenly.

9.  Let it cool a bit, if you can wait--especially if you're putting wax candles in, which will melt into the cake otherwise!

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One of the tricks that makes this cake turn out so well is to use cream, butter, and eggs from grassfed animals.  I know those are the only things my great-grandmother had access to, but it means making a decision these days.  Going grass-fed means this gastronomical splurge is a bit better for you since these ingredients will be higher in vitamin E, omega 3 fatty acids, and conjugated linoleic acid than conventional eggs and dairy would be.  (You're also reducing the chance of food poisioning if you lick the delicious batter from the bowl!)

The Nature of Togetherness

As we near the end of our holiday travels, I think about my favorite parts of our long vacation. We first visited my family in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina (where my parents grew up). We then drove down to visit David’s family in Florida.

In both places, we got to visit our parents, our brothers, and our cousins and retell stories of years past. Our 10yo son had a wonderful time seeing his uncles and grandparents. He is the only grandchild on both sides, and that seems relatively likely to remain true.

All three of us enjoyed eating foods traditional to our families and the places we grew up. For me, that was roasted oysters, soft-shelled crab, and boiled shrimp my uncle caught himself. For David, it is bagels and chocolate babka , as well as the salmon croquettes my MIL always makes. (David’s family is not made up of observant Jews, but even so, the treif feast we eat on the coast of SC always feels like a funny precursor to our visit to the southeastern part of Florida--the New York of the South.)

Two very special parts of our vacation were spending time walking at Myrtle Beach after a big storm and finding incredible shells, and walking on our favorite wildlife boardwalk in south Florida and watching birds and alligators and turtles.

After a few days in south Florida, I was struck that while waiting in line at the restaurant or milling around at the pool, the interactions between people were short and typically rude. Most people even resist making eye contact with strangers. While South Carolina has a long tradition of “southern hospitality” and friendliness to strangers, Myrtle Beach has become so large, so cosmopolitan, and so transient that many characteristics of southern culture are beginning to disappear there.

As soon as we were out in the fresh air surrounded by wildlife, everyone seemed to relax and open up to each other. On the beach, people smile at you and exchange pleasantries, even if they walk past you without acknowledgment at other times.

And at the wildlife walk, conversations start when someone spots a beautiful or unusual bird...









…especially nesting birds...






and the amazing anhingas drying their wings.



Folks continue to interact in a slow and relaxed way as they slowly circle the boardwalk together, pausing to snap photographs or look through binoculars. Sometimes someone spots a teacher bird with her students:



Or turtles lounging in the sun on the remnants of a tree…





…or even their brothers and sisters confidently hanging out with a little alligator:



Or perhaps a bird in the process of catching and preparing his dinner, a long and shining snake:



Everyone gathers in very quiet amazement, whispering intimately at times to complete strangers to keep things peaceful and to welcome the animals. Even the sounds of beeping cameras sometimes seem like an interruption to the quiet communion between humans and other animals, and between humans and other humans.

People point out iguanas--and the vivid green parrots who have found their way to the park.






Folks on their way out will tell excited children on their way in where to find the big alligator.



And a crowd of laughing (but also terrified) children calls a small crowd to visit the smaller alligator who had crawled on land right to the edge of the wooden fence.



Brave fathers bent with their cameras close enough to pet her:



And more cautious fathers bend nearby with binoculars:



Later in the evening we discovered that David’s cousins had been at the park about half an hour after we saw this alligator. By then she had backed away from the fence. Our cousins saw three incredibly tiny babies at the waterline with her! We had been so transfixed (and frightened!) by how close she was that we did not realize what treasure she was protecting.

The boardwalk is always full of new sights—every day and every hour. Today will be our last walk there before we have to pack our bags and begin our long drive home in our overly-full little red car. I’m looking forward to sleeping on my own hard mattress, to eating our usual diet, to imagining our new year together at home. Nevertheless, this has been a warm and wonderful communion with family and the world.

Self Portrait