The Great Smith Island Cake Disaster

Shock and Awe: Celtic-Roman Stonework from Neuchatel.

     It began innocently and with good intentions: food historian Michael Twitty suggested a sacrificial dish for my specific sin of over-complicating things. Making the multi-layered Smith Island Cake from Tidewater Maryland sure proved complicated for me.

     It is only a slight exaggeration to say I'd never baked a cake. The Smith Island was not the one to start, not with a strange oven with metric temperature settings, with instructions in ounces and cups, and implements in liters. Did I mention too small cake pans?

     

Still she persisted.

     If we must conduct a postmortem, the first fatal error was not measuring out the batter into ten equal portions. The second was leaving wrinkles in the parchment lining of the pans. This resulted in lovely unintended flutes around the completely uneven layers.

    On the upside, I can say that the purest darkest eating chocolate from Switzerland can be substituted for unsweetened and semi-sweetened.  

    The cake's fate should be to be fed to the fishes, helping me to dispense with my sin. Instead my husband will have a slice, and then take the rest to be shared with faculty and students at the University.

    I have only one question, and I'm afraid it suggests I'm willfully persisting in my sin. Wikipedia gives the first mention of a Smith Island Cake to an early 20th Century cookbook. Does anyone know more about it?

     

The Great Smith Island Cake Disaster.

   

Novel Food

         Novel Food, hosted by food writer and pasta master Simona Carina, is a wonderful event. You cook a food from a favorite novel.

         Les Grandes Meaulnes, the story of love lost and regained, and a mysterious chateau in the Cher region of France, has been a favorite of mine since college.

         The hero, Meaulnes, wanders into a gala wedding party and is entranced by the sister of the groom. Suddenly all the festivities end; the bride has changed her mind. Our hero resolves to find her. If you don't know the book, you should. In English, it's called The Wanderer by Alain-Fournier.

          I could not find a description of the exact food for the noces (night before the wedding) feast. I consulted sources for the period, pre-World War I France, for the upper classes. No joy.

          The novelist George Sand did describe the wedding customs for the region, including the tradition of hanging a cabbage from the highest rafter. In China, it's customary to hang a lettuce within leaping distance of the lion-dragon. I decided to pursue a cabbage recipe.  Everything at today's Wednesday Market, and sweet-sour that I love!

         

Cabbage with Apples, Walnuts and Goat Cheese

Ingredients:

2 teaspoons canola oil

2 small red onions, thinly sliced

1/4 cup walnuts

1 clove garlic, minced

1 small head red cabbage, shredded (about 4 cups)

2 Tablespoons balsamic

2 Tablespoons chopped fresh oregano

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper

1 apple (Mcintosh style) cut in 1/2 inch pieces

2 1/2 ounces or more crumbled goat cheese

Heat the oil over medium heat. Add onion, walnuts, garlic. Soften the onions, toast the walnuts. (5-7 minutes)

Add the cabbage, balsamic and oregano. Cover. Stir. (12- 15 minutes)

Salt, pepper.

Remove from heat and toss with the apples and goat cheese. 

Cabbage for Noces, Le Grand Meaulnes peasant style.

It's not that hard to find MFK Fisher, if you walk.

The Railroad Station at Chexbres, Canton Vaud, Switzerland

     Walking up the hills of Lausanne rewards me when I get to the Mon Repos swimming pool. What if, I thought to myself, I walked up through the vineyards above Saint-Saphorin. We see them from the train along the lake. I had read that M.F.K. Fisher's home below Chexbres Village and Saint-Saphorin no longer existed. Someone wrote a long post about their unsuccessful attempt.

I found a photograph of it, but wasn't at sure of the date. 

     Replicating my father's photographs of the Hudson River taught me a few things about finding the location from which a shot was taken. First, buildings, as rectangles whose lines are converging in the distance, can be captured in a simple sketch. Particular features of the landscape, such as unusual trees, sometimes outlast buildings. And finally, road signs and mile markers, which are maintained by local authorities, will remain.

Le Paquis, date unknown.

I'm on the right track.

Checking the view.

The Canton maintains road signs.

With those clues, on foot, my climb was rewarded. M.F.K. Fisher means little to the Swiss, but I wonder if the owners know that something other than grapes grew here.

Le Paquis, 2017; window treatment remains.