Eirene:
Love in the Form of Angel Food Cake
It is Saturday afternoon. My husband is away doing overtime for work, and I am surrounded by three small children, all clinging to my dress. The oldest, a five-year old, keeps demanding, “Where is Daddy? He should be home now!” The two girls, 3 and 2 years old, cling to me fussing with post-nap blues. Meanwhile, I bustle around trying to prepare for an expedition we had planned for later in the afternoon.
My mother-in-law had recently arrived from the USA, and today would have been her husband’s birthday. He had passed away seven months before, and my husband and I wanted to make this day special for her. We knew that Grandpa, my husband’s Dad, liked nature, sports…and angel food cake. We had planned an excursion with friends and family to a nearby homestead where could relax and celebrate Dad’s life and birthday. The problem was the angel food cake. I had never made one before, and from all I’d heard, they were challenging to make well.
For Mom’s sake, I stepped up to the plate and make my first angel food cake. Thanks to the children taking a long nap, it worked without stressing me out too much. Amazing! It was fluffy and high and looked elegant. I whisked up some thick, creamy chocolate icing as that was how Dad liked his cakes. (NB: I like mine with sliced fruit and cream, but either way they are delicious!)
As I try to maintain calm and cheer up the kids, I rush around packing everything for our outing – sharp knife, plates, cups, tablecloth, candle, drinks, and last but not least, the icing and the cake, which I perch on top of the overstuffed picnic basket.
Then I herd the children into the sitting room and read to them to pass the time until their Dad shows up. Finally, we hear his footsteps. The children make a beeline out the door and into their Dad’s arms, exclaiming and exulting that the afternoon can continue! I seize their moment of distraction to put the kettle on to make a thermos of tea, and in those few precious moments, catastrophe strikes. Our youngest, as she toddles to her Dad, notices the basket and plunks herself down right on top of the cushion of cake. As I round the corner to welcome my husband, I see a pudgy face looking up at me from the basket, grinning. There was no grin on my face! I yelp, “No! Horrors!” and yank her up, but the damage is complete: two large, crater-sized indents are gouged right in the middle of my precious cake.
I am mortified: not only is this the first anniversary we are celebrating with Grandma, but the friends we have invited along are food connoisseurs. Here I was, with a murdered cake to serve for this special occasion. But I couldn’t do anything about it: Grandma was on her way, and our friends were waiting. Absolutely no time to make a new cake; so the crushed one came with us.
And would you know, once the icing was added you could hardly tell, and the afternoon was a complete joy (once I got over my chagrin and realised everything would be OK if I quit worrying). We sat under the pines and watched cricket and sipped G&Ts and remembered Grandpa. Then, when the moment came for the cake, Grandma had tears of appreciation in her eyes. The cake was delicious and tasted perfectly fine, even if the pieces looked misshapen and hilarious.
Now, years later, those two little girls are almost teenagers (11 and 12), and they make angel food cakes for any and every special occasion there is to celebrate – a new baby, a birthday, an anniversary. These cakes have become part of our family’s vocabulary for joy and celebration without fear of perfection. Angel food cakes are such a fluffy, delicious way to show joy and appreciation, and they aren’t that difficult to make, actually!
Here is the actual - very worn and thumb-printed - recipe: