One of my former sister-in-laws called the first six weeks of the year "Cake Days". Mom and Pop's wedding anniversary was January 20 and we always celebrated with a cake. Then my birthday falls nine days later. Again with the cake. As soon as our glucose levels fell back to earth, Mom's birthday comes along on February 13th. Yet more cake!
We would mix them up. White sheet cake for anniversaries, devil's food is my favorite birthday cake and yellow cake with chocolate frosting for Mom.
Pies are great during the holidays. Cherry, Apple, pecan and mincemeat at every Christmas. Pumpkin and lemon meringue at Thanksgiving. Whew!
But the mid winter Cake Days took the.... Oh hell, it's too easy!
There are three cakes that I only ever liked; Pineapple upside down cake, Carrot cake and Black Forest cake (the real German kind not the crappy, sickly sweet American versions).
I like a nice spice cake with the cream cheese icing. I can't do German Chocolate due to the coconut. Angel food during strawberry season is indispensable.
I saw a show called Cake Boss. It was generally pretty silly, but they used something called fondant. It looked like spackle wrapped around a cake. I wonder what it tastes like?
Black Forest cake is not German Chocolate cake though it is German chocolate, no coconut, two different cakes.
I know. Black Forest has cherries, or at least cherry liqueur, right? Anyway, I can explain the snot out of a Ho-Ho!
Presumably the authentic European recipe for Black Forest Cake is here:
Authentic Black Forest Cake Schwarzwald Kirsch Kuchen) Recipe - Genius Kitchen
And I would imagine it would be pretty rare here in the USA as I had never heard of 'kirsch' and would imagine that even professional chefs don't stock it in their kitchens.
They gave me kirschwasser as an aperitif when I was in Germany. Cherry brandy is the stuff. So points to peach for recognizing the stuff.
The German waiters and waitresses would bring a shot of liquor with the menus and another shot with the bill. In the meantime they would ply you with tankards of beer during the meal. Eating out meant also staggering out!
I was there during the May Day celebration. The town I stayed in was a charming village called Anneweiller. The place looked like a pastiche of Germany, even though it was actually Germany. Women swept the sidewalks and curbs in front of their homes using brooms with long tapered bristles made of green nylon. The brooms were in the style of what we Americans would recognize as witche's brooms.
I was driving around sightseeing one Saturday morning on the back roads. I saw a big maintenance truck with a curious looking hydraulic arm springing from the right rear corner. The arm had at its working end, a barrel shaped and sized brush rotating and cleaning the guardrail. The Germans are fastidious.
But on May Day they go ape shot nuts! Kids egged houses, litter was strewn about and even the phone booth suffered broken glass. I guess you can pen up all that tidiness just so long before something blows.
There was a May Pole duly danced around and woven with colorful ribbons courtesy of the grammar school kids. They pitched a great tent where two or three hundred villagers gathered to drink beer and sing and hobnob with each other.
One of the villagers wore a confederate kepi, the gray cap with a cheese box shaped crown and patent leather brim. In my broken German (them damn Germans got a different word for everything!) I tried to explain the Rebel yell.
"Yee! Haw!" I shouted in my best
Red River imitation.
My Teutonic friend answered "Yahoo!"
"No, not 'Yahoo'. It's 'Yee Haw!" I explained.
"Yahoo" he shouted back.
The whole rebel yell concept was lost on him. But he loved to yell! We drew a few admonishing glance our way from the reserved Germans. They may have excused me because I was a foreigner. But I have a feeling my rebel yell buddy was just the village character who was being tolerated for the holiday's sake.
I will admit to making a few faux pas during my visit there. The first morning I went down from my room above a local bistro and went into the dining room. There was a lavish buffet spread on one of the tables for breakfast. Thinly sliced ham, cheeses, hard rolls, boiled eggs sat surrounded by carafes of fruit juices and baskets of apples and pears. One guy sat at the table eating away. I helped myself to some fruit and rolls with some tasty lingonberry jelly. A cup of strong black coffee and a tumbler of orange juice and I took a seat at the far end of the room. The lone diner at the table gave me an incredulous look. I said "Morgan!" as that is how I heard Germans greet each other at the start of the day.
When I got back to my room later that evening there was a note pinned to my door.
"If you would like a breakfast, please alert the staff and they will prepare one for you."
It seems that the breakfast buffet was laid out for that one lone diner. I just walked up and took food away that was rightfully his.
God bless the ugly American!
Took three days to make and the kirsch was easy to find - I was young and didn't stop to think that a liqueur is more than mere 'flavoring', it is alcohol (buying it at a liquor store should have been my first clue). A very nice lady took me aside and gently asked, Honey, is there alcohol in that cake? I was horrified. btw - Kirsch is a type of brandy, but not sweet. I know these things now.
