Not much to look at, but I hope it will taste good. And maybe its appearance will approve when I put it on a plate and dust it with confectioner’s sugar.
I’ve been trying to write a story about stolen recipes ever since I read this NY Times article about Dora Charles, the complexities of her relationship with Paula Deen, and ownership of kitchen secrets. My story is only sputtering along, but today I decided to make the Lost and Found Lemon Poundcake described in the article.
At best I’m only a serviceable cook, but I’m a very marginal baker. I love sweet baked goods but rarely attempt them, discouraged by the rocklike cookies, gummy cakes, greasy piecrusts, and leaden biscuits I’ve turned out over the years.
This cake packs more butter and eggs in it than I would normally consume in two months. David and I are setting out for Joshua Tree tomorrow, so I’ll bring some of it despite the fact that it’s very unlikely and impractical camping fare.
I had fun making the cake, even though the strenuous mixing wore out my arm. If it tastes decent, it will be because the essence of my mother, my sister, and David’s great-aunt Marie helped me along. I used a cake spatula, electric mixer, and mixing bowl belonging to them respectively.
And if it’s a flop, it’s OK. Some more ideas on how to fix my story came to me as I stirred.