Ellington

My Mammaw, my Momma's momma, is not a cook. She never enjoyed it, so when she was in her mid-70s, she figured she had better things to do with her time. Her kitchen was officially closed. After that, she didn't fool with anything that took more than three minutes in the microwave or a call to Lil' Ray's for take-out. Now that she's in her late 80s and living in a retirement community, she's had to retire her microwave, too.

Somehow, even with her aversion to the kitchen, Mammaw created the Cake, as it is referred to in my family. The Cake isn't a cake in the normal sense of the word. It is instead a decadent combination of sweet angel-food cake, rich custard and whipped cream. Real, homemade, sinful whipped cream. The Cake is so powerful that it still causes my momma to break into spontaneous song just at the sight of it.

My grandmother cannot recall where she found the original recipe. At first I thought it might be some type of bastardized trifle, but after doing a little bit of research I've come to the conclusion that it could possibly be a bizarre variation of a Charlotte Russe. Whatever the original recipe was, my grandmother apparently made it her own.

The Cake has been a part of family birthday celebrations for as long as I can remember. Initially, Mammaw only made it in March, the month of both my mother's and my aunt's birthdays. Later, when I moved to Jackson and my mother moved to New Jersey, Mammaw made it whenever we could all get together at her house in Gulfport, just once or twice a year.

While the Cake itself is never presented elaborately—it simply looks like a huge glob of whipped cream on a plate—the family "rituals" involving the dessert are complicated. Once everyone has their slab of Cake, the controversy begins. There is an ongoing argument between my grandmother and her daughters about why and when The Cake was made. Mammaw claims that she used to make it each year for their birthdays. They assert that it was only made for Mammaw's bridge club and that they felt slighted. My mother inevitably brings up the one and only time, decades ago, that my grandmother used Cool Whip to make the Cake, instead of real whipped cream. From the ruckus even the memory of this causes, I can't imagine what it must have been like when the inferior Cake was served.

Now, I seem to be the one that makes the Cake. I follow the tradition of making it only once or twice a year, when my mother comes to Jackson. I used to think that my grandmother made it so infrequently due to the amount of time involved in the Cake's preparation. Now, I think the real reason is that none of our bodies could take it. How often can you eat something requiring two cartons of heavy cream to temper its sweetness?

Also keeping with tradition, I prepare the Cake in the morning; the Cake would never make it through the night. Gradually, sliver by sliver, it vanishes. As my mother points out, usually after she's caught swiping a slice, you can always cover up the missing parts with more whipped cream.

Here's Mammaw's recipe:

Mix 3 egg yolks, 1 cup sugar, 1 cup milk and a pinch of salt in a pot, stirring regularly. Cook until the spoon is coated. Dissolve 1 envelope of plain gelatin into cup cold water; add to hot "custard" mixture. Add vanilla. Let the mixture cool while you whip the cream. Fold in 8 ounces of cream, whipped. Break an entire angel food cake into chunks and incorporate into the creamy mixture. Place all of this into a tube pan; refrigerate until firm. (Mammaw says that you can put it in a 13x9 inch pan, but then your piece of cake wouldn't be completely smothered in whipped cream.) Transfer chilled, firm cake onto a plate; ice with 8 more ounces of whipped cream. Garnish with grated chocolate, strawberries or anything of your choosing.

Previous Comments

ID

84512

Comment

Article aside (and it sounds like a delish recipe), that's the most hilarious column illustration I've seen yet. Kudos to this Drew Ford person! Cheers, TH

Author

Tom Head

Date

2006-03-25T23:21:07-06:00