Apple Cake

Our running has been impacted for several days by Winter Storm Diego and its aftermath.  I managed to complete only two runs last week, both of them down here on Sassafras Gap Road where the lower temperatures dried the road surface more than up in Town.  This morning I ran in Town for the first time, jumping over the occasional pile of snow still lingering by the sidewalks.  The roadside is still littered with debris, fallen limbs and trees pushed to the side, testifying to the difference only 1200 feet in elevation makes; what fell as rain and snow down our way fell as ice and snow up in Town, taking out electric service for many.  Now the slow process of cleanup is underway.  It was nice to be able to run the usual three-mile loop to which we are accustomed, good to get out of the house even though the northerly wind was a little sharp.

This afternoon, I decided to do some baking with the last of our apples.  I made apple turnovers on two occasions early this month, but there are still plenty of apples left, so today I pulled out a treasured old recipe from my Grandmother ("Gram"), written down at my request by my mother years and years ago when I first began to take an interest in baking the old recipes:  Gram's Apple Cake.

You can tell it's an old recipe because it calls for butter or "oleo," or oleomargarine, an ingredient rare to find in most supermarkets today but used frequently by my frugal mother.  "Bake 375 til done."  That "20 min +-" is in my own hand.  Mom (and Gram) simply knew when it was done without the need to time it on a running watch.

I happened to be talking to Martha's aunt Lizette on the phone while they were baking; she is a very good chef responsible for memorable Thanksgiving dinners and scrumptious bakes.  She has been having some health problems but is doing better now, and we have been calling to check on her.  "I wish I could send you this aroma over the phone!" I told her as I stepped into the kitchen to take them out of the oven.  Is there anything, indeed, that can better sustain body and soul this time of year than the aroma of apples, sugar, and cinnamon, freshly taken from an oven?  It is something I always associate with the holidays.  My Mom would often make Gram’s Apple Cake on Christmas morning.

So these simple old recipes, and the memories they bring to mind, live on for us today.  I felt as if my Mom was in the room, nodding her approval, and perhaps my grandmother as well.

There’s more snow predicted for Friday night and Saturday morning, so perhaps it will be a good snowy weekend, time to pull some more dusted and splattered index cards from the venerable filing box.