El's (Ersatz) Pound Cake, or, Easiest One-Bowl Pound Cake

When I was a kid, my mom made Pound Cake all the time. All the time. It just became part of the landscape for me because it was around so often, and I've always loved it. When I was in college, my mom used to make me an entire pound cake to take back to my dorm with me anytime I came to visit, and those days when I would walk into Smith Hall with a giant tin of pound cake to share with my hallmates are some pretty amazing memories. (Plus, the car ride from Raleigh to Atlanta always smelled a lot better with a cake in the passenger seat next to me!).

I've made a lot of riffs on my mom's pound cake: adding in peaches when I lived in Georgia, adding in cocoa when I wanted something more dessert-y, glazing it with lemon or dusting it with powdered sugar just to make it prettier, but my favourite way to eat it is still just plain. I haven't made a pound cake in ages-- they're not exactly cheap cakes, and they'll totally deplete your pantry if you're not careful, after all. But I was thrilled to find this recipe for Eleanor's Pound Cake in the box to see where my mom drew her inspiration from. This is definitely not the same recipe as my mom used when I was growing up (hers was sour-cream based, while this one has milk as the star ingredient), but it's delicious all the same, and it's interesting to see where my mom gained her baking knowledge from.

Weirdly, this recipe is labelled as 'El's Pound Cake,' but it's from Eleanor's own box, so I'm not sure why she felt the need to further explain it. It's also written in what could well be the sloppy predecessor to my mom's impeccably neat, font-like handwriting, on the back of a receipt for dry cleaning, which I just love. Based on the fact that the dry cleaner was in Florida (where Eleanor didn't move until the late 1950s) and my mom may have been the one who wrote it down, I'm pretty sure this one comes from the mid-to-late 1960s. While not a decade known for their culinary delights, this cake is amazing, not least of all because there is no ingredient in it that measures a pound... so why, in fact, is it even called a pound cake?

I don't know if pound cake is particularly common over here in Scotland, so just in case you haven't heard of it/had one, it's a cake traditionally made with one pound of every maind ingredient in it (flour, sugar, milk, butter/shortening). It's a dense, moist cake that goes absolutely perfectly with a cup of coffee for brunch, but can also make a perfectly fine snack or dessert. Most importantly, this one is a one-bowl recipe, which means you really have no excuse not to make it ASAP.

Additionally, I know that technically you can make a pound cake in any pan, but I grew up with my mom making it in her trusty bundt pan, so it never even occurred to me to make it in anything else.* If you choose to do the same, then note that this doesn't rise a whole lot and will only fill a standard-size bundt pan about halfway (if you have some of those adorable smaller bundt pans, this would be the perfect time to give them a try!). Even in a standard-sized pan, it still cooks up just fine, so don't worry if your pan looks only half-full. Alternately, in lieu of a bundt, you could make this in a loaf pan and it would still be just fine.

*Incidentally, my mom and Eleanor's proclivity toward bundt pans may be another sign of Eleanor's Polish heritage shining through-- in doing my research to make sure I was using the correct terminology, I learned that bundt pans originated in Germany and Poland, where they were used for making cakes called gugelhopfs.

The verdict:

4 spoons out of five. I'm really torn on this one-- it's not as good as my mom's (unsurprisingly), but it is really, really good. And so far 100% of the people who have tasted this one have voted strongly in favour of it, so it's getting 4 spoons.

Notes:

As mentioned above, you can tweak this by throwing in a handful of fresh or frozen fruit, adding a few spoonfuls of cocoa powder, a handful of chocolate chips, or (my favourite) swap the vanilla for additional lemon juice, then add some lemon zest and lavender buds, or anything else your heart desires.

We got new mugs that I'm really excited about, because they somehow match the vintage plates i bought years ago at a 1950s thrift shop.

The recipe:

El's Pound Cake

the ingredients:

3 c flour, sifted*
1 ½ c sugar
1 c shortening
4 eggs
1 c milk
2 tsp vanilla
1 tsp lemon juice

*The recipe calls for 'prepared flour,' and I didn't know how to prepare it other than to put it in a measuring cup, so I sifted it. This is probably optional.

The directions:

Preheat oven to 176C/350F.
If your pan is not non-stick, grease and flour it lightly.
Beat all ingredients for at least 5 minutes.
This will seem much longer than necessary, but the original recipe calls for 20 minutes. I compromised and beat mine for 10 because I figured today's mixers are probably infinitely stronger (and, because I use a transformer with an American mixer in my expatriate kitchen, I get nervous about leaving the mixer running for too long because it starts to sound funny).
Batter should be very smooth, light-coloured and have the texture of a can of paint.
Pour evenly into your pan, smooth the top and bake 40-45 minutes, until a wooden pick inserted all the way in comes out with just a crumb or two.

Zucchini Nut Bread, or, Courgette Walnut Tea Cake

I found Eleanor's wartime ration books recently while looking through some old family photos. I'm fascinated by the way her young adulthood was completely transformed by the onset of World War II-- she dealt with rationing, a fiance at war, a manufacturing job... all things I will never face, and she did it with aplomb. The ration books, especially, are completely foreign objects to me: I don't understand how they work or how they were used, and most of all I don't understand why she was able to save two mostly-full books. Didn't she need the coupons inside? These were the conditions under which Eleanor learned to cook when she was in her early 20s. Eleanor was 18 when World War II began, and nearly 25 when it ended. That means that her formative cooking years were characterised by rations, Victory Gardens, and the complete lack of many 'luxury' ingredients that I consider staples. I think her style adapted accordingly: if you learn to cook during times of hardship, then maybe that becomes a skill you'll always have.

This recipe for Zucchini Bread (or, as it would be known here in Scotland, Courgette Tea Cake) has made it through three generations in my family: Eleanor made it for her family, my mom made it for me, and now I make it for us. It's easy to see why this recipe persists across generational boundaries: it's simple, affordable, and the ingredients are nearly always in season. Even during World War II, this recipe would have been more straightforward than many others because it contains no butter and no milk, and the courgettes included can easily be grown in most climates, so they wouldn't need to be transported very far. Plus, even though there's a large amount of sugar contained in this recipe, it also makes a huge amount of bread, so the payoff is definitely worth it.

Judging by the stains on this recipe, Eleanor must have made this bread many times, and I'm glad she did, because it was one of my favourite treats when I was growing up. (Right up there with my mom's pound cake and her macaroni and cheese... both of which she also nicked from Eleanor's collection). This bread is the kind of thing you can make on a Sunday and enjoy all week as a quick breakfast before you go to work. Or the kind of thing you can take to a sick friend to help them recover. It's just as good no matter whether you enjoy it with your bowling league (like Eleanor), with a cup of coffee and a crossword puzzle (like my mom), or at your desk with a latte during an early work morning (like me). I love adaptable recipes like this one, and I love that I can trace this recipe through three generations of my family. I may never have been able to make this recipe with Eleanor, but it's still special to me to know that I'm cooking the same things she did, seventy years later on a different continent.

I think that's the beauty of family recipes: they unite us across time and place, making our family history into bite-sized pieces that we can share across generations. My passion for family cooking is why I'm so glad to be participating in Project STIR, a cool new cooking project developed by fellow blogger Sarah Shotts. Project STIR is a series of documentary films launching this fall on Kickstarter. The films will follow Abuelitas, Nans & Mamaws passing down heirloom recipes in kitchens around the globe including countries like: Panama, New Zealand, Turkey, Croatia & England. Click here to learn more about how to be involved.

The verdict:

5 spoons out of five. This recipe is easy, versatile, and nearly foolproof. It's delicious as breakfast, a snack, or even as dessert. Best of all, it exemplifies everything I love about this project: it's a recipe passed down through the generations of my family that I'm now cooking in my Scottish kitchen under a totally different name... but still tasting just as delicious!

Check out Project STIR and all the cool stuff they are doing to make sure family recipes like this one are preserved for the future, and while you're at it, try this courgette bread-- you'll love it!

The recipe:

Courgette Walnut Tea Cake

the directions:

Grease and flour two medium loaf pans, or, like me, one large and one small loaf pan.
Preheat oven to 176C/350F.
Chop or break nuts into medium pieces.
Beat eggs, then gradually beat in sugar and oil.
In a separate bowl, combine flour, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, and baking powder.
Add dry ingredients to egg mixture, alternating with zucchini/courgette.
Stir in nuts, vanilla, and raisins (if using).
Pour into loaf pans and cook on the bottom rack of the oven for 55 minutes or until a wooden pick inserted in the middle comes out clean.
Remove from oven, let cool for 10 minutes, then turn onto a rack to cool.

the ingredients:

1 c walnuts
4 eggs
2 c sugar
1 c vegetable oil
3 ½ c flour
1 ½ t baking soda
1 ½ t salt
2 t cinnamon
¾ t baking powder
2 c zucchini/courgette, grated
1 t vanilla
1 c raisins (optional)

Crab Soufflé

I know what you're thinking: this is gonna be some kind of weird knock-off of a soufflé made with canned soup and Velveeta. But you are wrong.

There are things we all have irrational cooking fears about: my mom was terrified to make lasagne until she was well into her 30s, I was nervous about making crepes until my 29th year when I learned how easy they were, mussels always alarmed me until my dear husband bought me an entire cookbook of Italian seafood recipes, and Judson always had a phobia of making crackers until I convinced him to do it for a New Year's Eve party one year... but those are all irrational fears, because, eventually, we made the dishes in question and learned that they were insanely easy (crackers literally only have two ingredients!).

On the other end of the spectrum are the rational cooking fears: things like soufflés, molecular gastronomy, crème brulée, and anything with foam go on this list. It's not often that I attempt things from this list. Don't get me wrong, I make complicated recipes in my non-blog life (and occasionally in my blog life), but I tend more toward long and arduous recipes with lots of ingredients rather than recipes that require specific techniques. (That's probably a failing on my part.) As it turns out, though, Eleanor's cooking style must have mirrored mine-- at least somewhat-- because most of her recipes, even the difficult ones, are only difficult because of how many ingredients they have-- not because of the techniques required.

Which is why I was as surprised as you were when I found the recipe for this soufflé in the box-- and I was anticipating a massive failure. I've only made a soufflé once (and as such, I remain the youngest/only person I know who has ever made one), but it was under the tutelage of an elderly French woman and so it wasn't exactly a solo venture. This one, though, I attempted on my own and it still came out a total win (though, alas, not particularly beautiful).

Cheese + Milk=Together forever.

The texture gets ickier after adding the yolks, but it'll be worth it!

If you've never had a soufflé, might I encourage you to try this one? If you don't like seafood, you can just leave out the crab for a ragingly awesome cheese soufflé that would be perfect for lunch or even weekend brunch. The crab, though, is easy to get since you can use canned crabmeat, and it's also less expensive than using fresh would be. (Though seriously, if you made this with lump crabmeat, I might just invite myself over for dinner because yum.) This is the kind of recipe to make when you've got company coming. It's easy, delicious, cheap, and everyone will be so impressed. You'll be The Girl (or Guy) Who Makes Soufflés. No one has to know that it uses two canned ingredients and the recipe came off a blog that nabbed it from the 1959 edition of Kraft Cookery. If there's one recipe in this box that proves some things are just timeless, it's this one.

Some technique advice (not that you need it):

• Whip 'em. (Whip 'em good). Those egg whites are what's going to make this a soufflé and not just a quiche, so whip them until they are super stiff. (Like, when you pull your beater out, they should stand straight up and be nice and shiny. Not foamy, and not slumped over like waves at the beach).

• This would be amaaaaazing with a tiny sprinkle of chili powder for heat, or nutmeg for spice. Or even some dried dill to make it more like a crabcake.

• As written below, this makes 2 main-course sized portions or 3 petite side dishes. Easily doubles to feed 4-6, but then you'll need a standard loaf pan instead of the silly wee one I used. As with any soufflé, it's best eaten fresh, so scale according to your needs.

The verdict:

5 spoons out of five.Even Judson, who doesn't dislike seafood but would never go out of his way to eat it, loved this. It's super easy, even on a weeknight, and you don't need any special equipment. An electric mixer is super helpful for beating those egg whites, but not technically necessary. This is as close to a foolproof recipe as I've come across in the box (except for the 3-ingredient bread recipe, because come on).

The recipe:

Crab Soufflé

the directions:

Preheat oven to 160C/325F.
Heat evaporated milk over very low heat until bubbles form around the edge of the pot.
Add cheese, salt, pepper, and any other herbs and stir until melted and smooth. (Try not to dig in at this point.)
Allow to cool to lukewarm.
While cooling, beat the egg whites until very stiff and glossy, then set aside.
After cheese mixture has cooled, stir in egg yolks, one at a time, stirring until smooth.
Fold egg whites into cheese mixture with a spatula, using spatula to 'turn' mixture very gently.
Mixture should not be smooth, but egg white should be thoroughly blended into batter.
Place crabmeat in bottom of loaf pan.
Gently top with cheese mixture and smooth the top with spatula.
Bake for 35-45 minutes until risen and brown and crisp on top.

Serves 2 as a main course, or 3, petitely.

the ingredients:

¼ c evaporated milk
½ c sharp cheddar cheese, grated
½ tsp salt
½ tsp black pepper
3 eggs, separated, both parts reserved
1 c crabmeat