I'm feeling hard pressed, as my gram used to say. I go to work, wash dishes, bake a cake, sometimes go to yoga or another activity, come home and clean the kitchen AGAIN, try to make dinner, frost the cake, and try to write riveting bloggy stuff. Often, some of those steps are missed. Like my husband's dinner. I look at blogs like I Am Baker and Sally's Baking Addiction and wonder if there is something seriously wrong with those people. How can someone be so freakin cheerful about baking all the time? It's like work!
As I washed dishes this afternoon, splashing water all over myself cause I just don't have the energy to do it without flinging soap and water everywhere, I thought about my gram. She was a farm wife for many years. Ever met real farm wives? Those women who run the house while the men are out breaking their backs over cows and horses and such? Gram said she worked like a dog from the time she woke up until the time she went to sleep, along with her mother in law and any other women in the house. Think women here are at home a lot? Gram joked that she had to be back home before she left the house, and Grampa used to hide her shoes. Weirdos. Farm wives woke up at dawn (or before) and started a wood fire in the stove, in order to cook for a LOT of men. Hired hands, husbands, sons, and fathers. Winter and summer. Bisquits, bacon, eggs, sliced tomatoes....those men had a full day ahead with a dairy herd and they put away loads of food. The pantry with the cookstove was very cold in the winter time...no insulation and their legs would freeze "near to death" Gram said. That meal came off the table, dishes were washed, laundry started, and lunch cooked. Laundry was done in a machine with a roller attached so the water extracted. It was fun to use when I was a child, but I shudder now when I think of what could have happened if small hands got caught in those rollers. And those darn clothes were hung on a line, even in the dead of winter. No dryers. The day continued like that with babies and children tended to in between. Dinner hit the table, then bed. Early.
Once my great grandfather got old, the animals were sold, the barn torn down, and grampa got a job driving a dump truck. However, my grandmother continued to shingle her own roof, bake cake, and took real pleasure in cleaning her 12 room farmhouse from the moment she woke up. She was a hard taskmaster, forcing her children to scrub any dirt from cracks and crevices with an old toothbrush. None of them remember those days with any particular fondness or nostalgia. When she finally got too old, at 91, to clean all the time, she'd give my aunt and I a list of chores in the morning. We developed some pretty macabre humor in order to deal with the situation, joking about whether or not "today was the day." Horrified my daughter, but you kinda had to be there.
I miss her. She drove me nuts and was a crazy old thing, but her work ethic was second to none. She'd wake me up at midnight for a snack of turkey and gravy on toast. There was always a chocolate mayonnaise cake in the pantry, and every damn one of that family are now diabetic.
I did NOT inherit that work ethic. Like I said, I feel hard pressed. I told my yoga class I feel like crap on a cracker, and I do. Next week, yogis. Next week. For now, I have to make banana cake and try to be an attentive wife for five minutes. If I were a farm wife, I'd have been put out to pasture like an old mare years ago.
As I washed dishes this afternoon, splashing water all over myself cause I just don't have the energy to do it without flinging soap and water everywhere, I thought about my gram. She was a farm wife for many years. Ever met real farm wives? Those women who run the house while the men are out breaking their backs over cows and horses and such? Gram said she worked like a dog from the time she woke up until the time she went to sleep, along with her mother in law and any other women in the house. Think women here are at home a lot? Gram joked that she had to be back home before she left the house, and Grampa used to hide her shoes. Weirdos. Farm wives woke up at dawn (or before) and started a wood fire in the stove, in order to cook for a LOT of men. Hired hands, husbands, sons, and fathers. Winter and summer. Bisquits, bacon, eggs, sliced tomatoes....those men had a full day ahead with a dairy herd and they put away loads of food. The pantry with the cookstove was very cold in the winter time...no insulation and their legs would freeze "near to death" Gram said. That meal came off the table, dishes were washed, laundry started, and lunch cooked. Laundry was done in a machine with a roller attached so the water extracted. It was fun to use when I was a child, but I shudder now when I think of what could have happened if small hands got caught in those rollers. And those darn clothes were hung on a line, even in the dead of winter. No dryers. The day continued like that with babies and children tended to in between. Dinner hit the table, then bed. Early.
Once my great grandfather got old, the animals were sold, the barn torn down, and grampa got a job driving a dump truck. However, my grandmother continued to shingle her own roof, bake cake, and took real pleasure in cleaning her 12 room farmhouse from the moment she woke up. She was a hard taskmaster, forcing her children to scrub any dirt from cracks and crevices with an old toothbrush. None of them remember those days with any particular fondness or nostalgia. When she finally got too old, at 91, to clean all the time, she'd give my aunt and I a list of chores in the morning. We developed some pretty macabre humor in order to deal with the situation, joking about whether or not "today was the day." Horrified my daughter, but you kinda had to be there.
I miss her. She drove me nuts and was a crazy old thing, but her work ethic was second to none. She'd wake me up at midnight for a snack of turkey and gravy on toast. There was always a chocolate mayonnaise cake in the pantry, and every damn one of that family are now diabetic.
I did NOT inherit that work ethic. Like I said, I feel hard pressed. I told my yoga class I feel like crap on a cracker, and I do. Next week, yogis. Next week. For now, I have to make banana cake and try to be an attentive wife for five minutes. If I were a farm wife, I'd have been put out to pasture like an old mare years ago.
Gramma Dot, issuing orders for me to weed the flower bed. She was a mad old thing, but funny.
My Nanny. Farm wife extraordinaire. She could hunt deer and kill a chicken with a swift thrust through the beak. I loved her excessively. Pictured with yours truly when she was 95. Her donuts are a family legend, made with a soft touch and a warm heart.
2 1/2 cup(s) cake flour
2 1/2 teaspoon(s) baking powder
1/2 teaspoon(s) baking soda
1/2 teaspoon(s) salt
1/2 cup(s) unsalted butter, softened
1 1/4 cup(s) granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1 1/2 teaspoon(s) vanilla extract
1/2 cup(s) buttermilk
1 cup(s) (about 2 bananas) very
ripe, mashed bananas
1 recipe Caramel Icing
Make the batter: Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Using a
small brush, lightly coat two 9-inch cake pans with softened butter or
vegetable-oil cooking spray. Dust with flour, tap out any excess, and set
aside. Over a surface covered with a large sheet of waxed or parchment paper,
sift the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Into a medium bowl,
resift the flour mixture and set aside. In a large bowl, using a mixer set on
medium-high speed, beat the butter until light -- about 1 minute. Add the sugar
and continue to beat for 2 more minutes. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating
thoroughly after each addition, and mix in the vanilla. Reduce mixer speed to
low and add the flour mixture by thirds, alternating with the buttermilk and
bananas and ending with the dry ingredients. Mix just enough to blend the
batter after each addition.
Bake the cake: Divide the batter equally between the pans
and bake on the middle rack of the oven until a tester inserted into each cake
layer comes out clean -- 25 to 30 minutes. Cool in the cake pans on a wire rack
for 15 minutes. Using a knife, loosen the cake layers from the pan sides and
invert the layers onto the wire rack to cool completely.
Ice the cake: Use a serrated
knife to trim the mounded side of the cake layers, if necessary. Line the edges
of a cake plate with 3-inch-wide strips of waxed or parchment paper and place a
cake layer, trimmed side down, on top. Place 1 cup Caramel Icing on top of the
layer and spread evenly. Place the second layer, trimmed side down, on the
first and cover the top and sides with the remaining icing.
3 cup(s) light brown sugar
1 1/2 cup(s) heavy cream
1/2 teaspoon(s) lemon juice
5 tablespoon(s)
butter, cold, cut into pieces
Make the icing: In a medium
saucepan with a candy thermometer attached, stir sugar, heavy cream, and lemon
juice together. Cook the mixture, without stirring, over medium-high heat to
soft-ball stage (238 degrees F). Remove from heat and cool the caramel mixture
to 140 degrees F. Place the butter on top of the cooled caramel mixture. Remove
the thermometer and, using a handheld mixer set on medium-high speed, beat the
caramel until it thickens enough to hold its shape, lightens in color, and
changes from translucent to opaque -- about 5 minutes. Apply icing immediately.
Their cake.
My cake. I swear it's the camera.
My cake. I swear it's the camera.
Don't make this icing. It's a pain in the neck to spread. I don't have a candy thermometer, but I do know, thanks to one of my grandmothers, how to determine soft ball stage. But when they say spread immediately, you'd better. And use a wet knife...basically soft ball means fudge, and fudge drags.
Perhaps I will get back to life in Salalah in tomorrow's post. For now, I have more dishes to wash.
Love,
Felicia El Aid
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