all too often, everyone takes themselves and everything else too seriously. I must be wearing haute coture, or I must have a corner office, or I must hate that person because he or she thinks differently than I. Now, I'm never one to suggest burying one's head in the sand and pretending that the economy doesn't suck or that there aren't people floating around with seriously stupid ideas...but that doesn't mean that we should not take advantage of little things that make us happy.
Everyone needs a bit more whimsy in their lives. It can be as simple as a cartoon, a silly song we sing along with, baking cookies, a pillow with a bird or woodland creature on it, or even breaking out childhood jewelry as a remembrance of when we had less troubles. I firmly believe that each day ought have a little bit of a movie musical in it and that soliloquies in fake foreign accents are a part of life.
Perhaps it comes from my father having stolen borrowed his funniest material from Mel Brooks and Monty Python and rearranging lyrics from song I never knew, but laughter and joy comes even when you're unhappy. It is something of a glorious morning outside my window, with sun shining and burning away the fog.
I often feel as though I'm living in Brigadoon, waiting for the outside world to steal in and visit me in a whirlwind day when our nightly fog lifts. It's a brilliant gem of a musical, starring Gene Kelly and Cyd Charisse and Van Johnson, directed by Vincent Minnelli. Minnelli might be known better today as Judy Garland's husband and Liza Minnelli's father, but budget constraints turned the man's fancy wild. Though he wanted to go to the actual Highlands of Scotland to film, MGM bosses insisted he make use of sound-stages instead. So, the viewer ends up with something that looks nothing like it really happened, with watercolor backdrops and heather carted in to cover humps and valleys made of plywood and dirt. It all adds to the dream-like state, increasing the wonder at a village that appears out of the mist to join the real world just once every century.
This is the sort of day where fancy takes over and suddenly deciding on a spot of afternoon tea and some dense cake seems like the best idea in the world. It is just such a cake, all moist and studded with dried fruit (not a fruitcake, I promise!), fabulous straight out of the oven and still delicious the next day for breakfast that is solid, prosaic, and perfect on a cool, warm, whimsical day as today.
I'm not entirely sure where Dad found the recipe for Moravian Cake. I'm inclined to think it's another Frugal Gourmet Immigrant Ancestors recipe, but I"m not feeling the need to get up and check the index. Suffice to say, one can just imagine Eastern European grandmothers throwing spices and dried fruits together, tossing it into a cast iron skillet, and popping the whole thing into the oven or on top of the fire.
Easily delicious with just powdered sugar on top, a little cream cheese icing, or (my favorite) lightly sweetened whipped cream. This also makes a great coffee cake, with the cinnamon and clove picking up on the best caramel and nutty flavors of the dark brew.
Moravian Cake
1 stick butter
1 cup water
1 cup brown sugar
1 1/2 cup raisins (or raisins & other chopped dried fruits)
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
vanilla
2 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
Heat the first grouping of ingredients in a saucepan, adding the second group once the butter is melted. Remove from the heat, adding the final group of ingredients. Ppur into a 9 inch cast iron skillet, greased, and bake in a preheated 350 degree oven. It should take about thirty-five minutes, with a knife or toothpick coming out clean when inserted in the center.
Allow to cool slightly in the skillet, running a serrated knife along the edge. After about to ten minutes, grasp the skillet by the handle, bang it a couple of times on a sturdy heat-proof surface (like a wooden cutting board, never the stove). Run the knife around the outside again, then place a large plate over the top of the cake within the skillet. Flip the whole thing upside down (use oven mitts on both hands!) and place it back on the counter, with the skillet on top. Wiggle the skillet a few times and gently lift it to see if the cake has dislodged from the bottom. If it hasn't at all, flip everything back over and try again in a few minutes. If it has only dislodged a bit, flip everything back over as well.
If not, allow the cake to fall onto the plate. Usually a bit in the center will stick. just peel it off the skillet with a spatula and replace it on the cake. Next, put a plate on the "bottom" of the cake and flip the cake right side up. No one will ever see the stuck bit, especially once the cake is cut as it can be a little messy at times. Serve with powdered sugar or whipped cream, tea or coffee. See if it doesn't brighten your day!
PS this method works well with skillet cornbread, too.
"Be well. Do good work. Keep in touch." - Garrison Keillor
Everyone needs a bit more whimsy in their lives. It can be as simple as a cartoon, a silly song we sing along with, baking cookies, a pillow with a bird or woodland creature on it, or even breaking out childhood jewelry as a remembrance of when we had less troubles. I firmly believe that each day ought have a little bit of a movie musical in it and that soliloquies in fake foreign accents are a part of life.
I often feel as though I'm living in Brigadoon, waiting for the outside world to steal in and visit me in a whirlwind day when our nightly fog lifts. It's a brilliant gem of a musical, starring Gene Kelly and Cyd Charisse and Van Johnson, directed by Vincent Minnelli. Minnelli might be known better today as Judy Garland's husband and Liza Minnelli's father, but budget constraints turned the man's fancy wild. Though he wanted to go to the actual Highlands of Scotland to film, MGM bosses insisted he make use of sound-stages instead. So, the viewer ends up with something that looks nothing like it really happened, with watercolor backdrops and heather carted in to cover humps and valleys made of plywood and dirt. It all adds to the dream-like state, increasing the wonder at a village that appears out of the mist to join the real world just once every century.
This is the sort of day where fancy takes over and suddenly deciding on a spot of afternoon tea and some dense cake seems like the best idea in the world. It is just such a cake, all moist and studded with dried fruit (not a fruitcake, I promise!), fabulous straight out of the oven and still delicious the next day for breakfast that is solid, prosaic, and perfect on a cool, warm, whimsical day as today.
I'm not entirely sure where Dad found the recipe for Moravian Cake. I'm inclined to think it's another Frugal Gourmet Immigrant Ancestors recipe, but I"m not feeling the need to get up and check the index. Suffice to say, one can just imagine Eastern European grandmothers throwing spices and dried fruits together, tossing it into a cast iron skillet, and popping the whole thing into the oven or on top of the fire.
Easily delicious with just powdered sugar on top, a little cream cheese icing, or (my favorite) lightly sweetened whipped cream. This also makes a great coffee cake, with the cinnamon and clove picking up on the best caramel and nutty flavors of the dark brew.
Moravian Cake
1 stick butter
1 cup water
1 cup brown sugar
1 1/2 cup raisins (or raisins & other chopped dried fruits)
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
vanilla
2 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
Heat the first grouping of ingredients in a saucepan, adding the second group once the butter is melted. Remove from the heat, adding the final group of ingredients. Ppur into a 9 inch cast iron skillet, greased, and bake in a preheated 350 degree oven. It should take about thirty-five minutes, with a knife or toothpick coming out clean when inserted in the center.
Allow to cool slightly in the skillet, running a serrated knife along the edge. After about to ten minutes, grasp the skillet by the handle, bang it a couple of times on a sturdy heat-proof surface (like a wooden cutting board, never the stove). Run the knife around the outside again, then place a large plate over the top of the cake within the skillet. Flip the whole thing upside down (use oven mitts on both hands!) and place it back on the counter, with the skillet on top. Wiggle the skillet a few times and gently lift it to see if the cake has dislodged from the bottom. If it hasn't at all, flip everything back over and try again in a few minutes. If it has only dislodged a bit, flip everything back over as well.
If not, allow the cake to fall onto the plate. Usually a bit in the center will stick. just peel it off the skillet with a spatula and replace it on the cake. Next, put a plate on the "bottom" of the cake and flip the cake right side up. No one will ever see the stuck bit, especially once the cake is cut as it can be a little messy at times. Serve with powdered sugar or whipped cream, tea or coffee. See if it doesn't brighten your day!
PS this method works well with skillet cornbread, too.
"Be well. Do good work. Keep in touch." - Garrison Keillor
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