The day is almost upon us and really, I am fairly well bummed out. Thanksgiving is a puzzler to people outside America (and possibly Canada). It isn't a religious holiday; it is a day to be thankful for what you have. It is a day to eat shocking amounts of food, possibly go shoot a deer, and watch a football game. And no, I don't mean a soccer game.
My kids will be rounded up at tables heaving with food. There has to be a turkey front and center. Stuffed, and not with any weird tasting, Saveur magazine recipe crud. Gravy is critical, as is pumpkin pie. My mother used to make candied yams, a truly revolting mixture. Picture yams (already a questionable vegetable) smothered in small marshmallows, then baked. She also made some yacky thing from the 1950's with whipped cream and cocktail fruit, and MULTICOLORED mini marshmallows called "ambrosia." Twasn't ambrosiac atall. We wouldn't eat that either. We teased her mercilessly about cutting up the turkey innards into the gravy (called giblets) until I just took over the whole process.
My mom worked her butt off at Thanksgiving, once she moved back to Maine.We ate off paper plates at the table...none of the fancy china for our crew. Washing up was too much work. Of course we helped, but it was her show. Then my mother got a little tired. Then she got cancer. She recovered from that cancer, and planned a move to Florida. We had a last Thanksgiving dinner at her place, after she married her high school sweetheart (long past the point when he was sweet I might add) and I waved goodbye to her in Clinton, Maine on a late November day, I think it was. She seemed fine. One the way to Florida, she suffered a massive stroke. My siblings and I flew to Florida in shifts, and during my turn, once she was out of the hospital, she tried to cook a turkey.
She put it in the oven raw and frozen the night before, and cooked it for a couple hours. Then she left it there, thinking she could finish it the next day. I'd just arrived from Maine and she was really excited about her sister and brother in law coming over for a very late in the season turkey dinner. What do you say to someone who is brain damaged, and can no longer cook the dinners she's done all her adult life? I quietly called my aunt and we went out and bought a couple pre-cooked chickens, and I teased her a bit about trying to kill us all, just to make her laugh it off.
Mom got a little better, but now has Parkinson's disease, lung cancer, and dementia related to the Parkinsons. She has a great outlook on her situation much of the time. I suppose having dementia helps, in a perverse way. And here I am. I honestly try not to think about it very much. I haven't had a real Thanksgiving dinner for a few years now. I've tried. An American friend and I had a fun Thanksgiving last year, with friends from all over the world. My mom and her husband went to Cracker Barrel. I guess I am thankful that Thanksgiving isn't a huge deal here. I am insulated from all the stresses the holidays bring; unfortunately I am also insulated from much of the joy.
By the way, my mom knows how to cuss. If she knew about this cake challenge, she'd tell me I'd gone bats**t crazy!
My kids will be rounded up at tables heaving with food. There has to be a turkey front and center. Stuffed, and not with any weird tasting, Saveur magazine recipe crud. Gravy is critical, as is pumpkin pie. My mother used to make candied yams, a truly revolting mixture. Picture yams (already a questionable vegetable) smothered in small marshmallows, then baked. She also made some yacky thing from the 1950's with whipped cream and cocktail fruit, and MULTICOLORED mini marshmallows called "ambrosia." Twasn't ambrosiac atall. We wouldn't eat that either. We teased her mercilessly about cutting up the turkey innards into the gravy (called giblets) until I just took over the whole process.
My mom worked her butt off at Thanksgiving, once she moved back to Maine.We ate off paper plates at the table...none of the fancy china for our crew. Washing up was too much work. Of course we helped, but it was her show. Then my mother got a little tired. Then she got cancer. She recovered from that cancer, and planned a move to Florida. We had a last Thanksgiving dinner at her place, after she married her high school sweetheart (long past the point when he was sweet I might add) and I waved goodbye to her in Clinton, Maine on a late November day, I think it was. She seemed fine. One the way to Florida, she suffered a massive stroke. My siblings and I flew to Florida in shifts, and during my turn, once she was out of the hospital, she tried to cook a turkey.
She put it in the oven raw and frozen the night before, and cooked it for a couple hours. Then she left it there, thinking she could finish it the next day. I'd just arrived from Maine and she was really excited about her sister and brother in law coming over for a very late in the season turkey dinner. What do you say to someone who is brain damaged, and can no longer cook the dinners she's done all her adult life? I quietly called my aunt and we went out and bought a couple pre-cooked chickens, and I teased her a bit about trying to kill us all, just to make her laugh it off.
Mom got a little better, but now has Parkinson's disease, lung cancer, and dementia related to the Parkinsons. She has a great outlook on her situation much of the time. I suppose having dementia helps, in a perverse way. And here I am. I honestly try not to think about it very much. I haven't had a real Thanksgiving dinner for a few years now. I've tried. An American friend and I had a fun Thanksgiving last year, with friends from all over the world. My mom and her husband went to Cracker Barrel. I guess I am thankful that Thanksgiving isn't a huge deal here. I am insulated from all the stresses the holidays bring; unfortunately I am also insulated from much of the joy.
By the way, my mom knows how to cuss. If she knew about this cake challenge, she'd tell me I'd gone bats**t crazy!
My mother's youngest sister, me, and Mom, at 20 years old.
Tonight's cake was a special order, a yellow cake with chocolate frosting. I have a yellow cake recipe on hand, which you can double. Even better, go buy a box of cake mix. Hah! I've also figured out another angle these cake makers use. The cakes pictured are three layers, not two. When the heck did three layer cakes become the done thing! Crimanitly. (Pronounced crime-ah-nit-lee).
Her Cake
1½ cups butter (3 sticks), softened
1 cup unsweetened cocoa
5 cups confectioner’s sugar
½ cup milk
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
½ teaspoon espresso powder
- Add cocoa to a large bowl or bowl of stand mixer. Whisk through to remove any lumps.
- Cream together butter and cocoa powder until well-combined.
- Add sugar and milk to cocoa mixture by adding 1 cup of sugar followed by about a tablespoon of milk. After each addition has been combined, turn mixer onto a high speed for about a minute. Repeat until all sugar and milk have been added.
- Add vanilla extract and espresso powder and combine well.
- If frosting appears too dry, add more milk, a tablespoon at a time until it reaches the right consistency. If it appears to wet and does not hold its form, add more confectioner’s sugar, a tablespoon at a time until it reaches the right consistency.
This recipe really does make a great deal of frosting. You can frost three layers with this, and not be stingy with the coating. I will post my pic later. I dropped my crappy tablet and it broke to smithereens, so we will all have to wait until my husband returns home. It really looks yummy.
Love,
Felicia El Aid
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