Mamaw's Pound Cake

I first posted my recipe for my Mamaw's Pound Cake as part of the Sips of the South series that I participated in, but that was months ago and I think that this is a recipe worth sharing twice. Plus I have a picture of said delicious cake this go round.

I made this cake to take to the men who are working on our new house...just a sweet treat to say thanks. (This is actually the second cake. The first one was promptly eaten by myself and family when the crew failed to show up to work on Saturday. We didn't complain about having to eat it too much though.)

I didn't make the icing for this one because it will be in the heat but I highly recommend making it, it's divine.

And a few more tips:

This cake is NOT made in a bundt pan. I use a tube pan; it looks exactly like an angel food cake pan except that it isn't two parts. If you don't have one go find one, they make the best cakes! If you can't, a bundt pan will suffice until you get a tube.

Don't you dare think of substituting margarine for the butter or heaven forbid one of those artificial sweeteners for the sugar. (I know what Splenda claims but I just don't believe it.)

Remember not to preheat your oven. And it may take a little over 1 and 1/2 hours, just let the top get a bit crusty and lightly golden.

Now go forth and bake!

Sips Of The South...Steel Magnolias

"The biggest myth about Southern women is that we are frail types--fainting on our sofas...nobody where I grew up ever acted like that. We were about as fragile as coal trucks." --Lee Smith

I think this quote sums up the strength of Southern women perfectly!

This week's topic over at Sweet Tea & Biscuits Sips of the South is to share who are the true steel magnolias in our lives. I'd have to say that the two women who have been steel magnolias in my life are my Mama and my Mamaw.

My Mama was a single mother to my brother and I and she is the best mother I could ever ask for. She sacrificed for us, provided for us, and instilled values in me that I will forever be thankful for. She has been there for me whenever I've needed her and supported every decision I've ever made. I remember her trying to get me to watch her cook when I was maybe middle school age and I couldn't have been less interested, but now I find myself asking her how she makes everything. I'm going to remind my daughter of this and sit her on the counter to watch and learn from her Nana.

I've written on my Mamaw before...most recently about her passing at 95 years old. She was one of those coal truck women referred to in the quote above. My grandfather passed away when my mother was 12, and she had two other children that she raised on her own. She was a woman who could make something out of nothing, had the cleanest house you would ever step into, and could cook a meal that would put 10 pounds on you. I have so many fond memories of living with my Mamaw and my Mama and I know that having these two strong women raise me is what made me who I am today.

My Mama and Mamaw have encouraged me to put down roots, stand tall, and blossom just like the Magnolia tree, and I thank them.

Clearly I am NOT my Mamaw

My Mamaw was known for her cooking, especially her biscuits. She constantly had a dough ball that she kept in a big tupperware bowl of flour and she would add ingredients to it to make more dough as she needed it (which was like every day). I'm not sure what I thought...maybe by divine intervention her biscuit making skills would be genetically passed down to me. I was mistaken.

It all started out well enough. I had my recipe to try: Southern Living's Stir-and-Roll Biscuits (that I blogged about on Monday).

I had all of my ingredients:


I sifted my dry ingredients together, and then stirred in my wets until it pulled together like a ball:


I gently rolled/patted my dough out, then cut my biscuits:



Into the oven they went to bake (please excuse the fingerprints, children live here):


And voila, out they came! Delicious little biscuit bricks!:


What went wrong?? They tasted quite yummy, but it was as if someone took them apart, removed all of the fluffy middle, and put them back together. They definitely don't look like the ones in the magazine (which promised them to be "high rising") and not like my Mamaw's either. If you're a biscuit maker, please help! I really want to be able to make some yummy, fluffy biscuits...it's a requirement for a Southern Mama!

Making Progress

I am steadily making progress in de-cluttering my home. Yesterday was very productive! I washed the baseboards and window sills, dusted and polished furniture in the living room, and cleaned out several drawers. I really stink at photography, and at the moment I have no desire to even learn how to take good pictures, but here's a few pics of things I love in my home.

The buffet in my dining room...probably my favorite piece of furniture I own!


A tea set my mama bought me when I was in college and one of the doilies my Mamaw crocheted.

I love the shelves in my kitchen...the perfect place to display my favorite glassware, pottery and flower pots.

There's a New Angel In Heaven

I haven't posted anything lately, mostly because I didn't have anything to say. I've been at the hospital with my Mamaw a lot; she fell last week and broke her leg and it was her time to pass. I felt better that she was being kept comfortable, but I could just see how tired she was. I thought that I had said my goodbyes, but then yesterday evening something told me to go see her again. I stayed for several hours, thought I was going to leave, but again I had the feeling that I should just stay. So I lay there with my Mama and my uncle and we were "still and quiet" (as my Mamaw would say) and she took her last breath. It was a special moment, quite close to God, and I am thankful that I listened to the feeling that told me to stay.

I am re-posting an entry that I posted back in August.

Dreams

Lately I've been having a lot of dreams about my Mamaw. I'm not sure why these memories are invading my dreams, but they are there (at least a little snippet) each night. My mother, brother and I lived with my Mamaw for about 3 1/2 years after my parents divorced and even when we moved into our own house we spent a great deal of time at my Mamaw's. She is a woman I've always looked up to, aspired to be like, and who helped shape my childhood. These are my dreams at night:

I dream of sitting on the stepstool in the kitchen watching her make homemade biscuits and leaving a bit of dough out for the "rat" to eat. I loved that salty sweet dough.

Laying on her bed, the cool clean sheets, and looking at her curtains covered in red roses.

I dream of warm baths with a bar of Ivory soap.

Sitting on the porch swing drinking sweet tea or snapping beans.

I dream of her feeding me "soaky bread" which is toast dipped in coffee (I personally attribute my love of coffee to the fact that she started me on it when I was only 3!)

My Mamaw sitting in her chair crocheting a beautiful doilie.

I dream of days when it stormed and we had to unplug everything and go lay on the bed. "Be still and quiet" she would say.

The multitude of switches that woman had hid around the house...in her chair, on top of the fridge, they were always within her reach.

I dream of her giving me a dustrag and a can of Pledge and setting me to work dusting/polishing the furniture.

Watching HeeHaw...enough said.

I dream of her sweeping the sidewalk, vacuuming every day, hanging sheets on the line, ironing baskets of clothes. This woman could clean.

Most of all I dream of her and her house. The way she smelled and the way she looked. I dream of the way I knew her house, how no other place has ever felt more like home. I don't know why I'm dreaming of these things, but I'm sure glad I remember them.

Dreams

Lately I've been having a lot of dreams about my Mamaw. I'm not sure why these memories are invading my dreams, but they are there (at least a little snippet) each night. My mother, brother and I lived with my Mamaw for about 3 1/2 years after my parents divorced and even when we moved into our own house we spent a great deal of time at my Mamaw's. She is a woman I've always looked up to, aspired to be like, and who helped shape my childhood. These are my dreams at night:

I dream of sitting on the stepstool in the kitchen watching her make homemade biscuits and leaving a bit of dough out for the "rat" to eat. I loved that salty sweet dough.

Laying on her bed, the cool clean sheets, and looking at her curtains covered in red roses.

I dream of warm baths with a bar of Ivory soap.

Sitting on the porch swing drinking sweet tea or snapping beans.

I dream of her feeding me "soaky bread" which is toast dipped in coffee (I personally attribute my love of coffee to the fact that she started me on it when I was only 3!)

My Mamaw sitting in her chair crocheting a beautiful doilie.

I dream of days when it stormed and we had to unplug everything and go lay on the bed. "Be still and quiet" she would say.

The multitude of switches that woman had hid around the house...in her chair, on top of the fridge, they were always within her reach.

I dream of her giving me a dustrag and a can of Pledge and setting me to work dusting/polishing the furniture.

Watching HeeHaw...enough said.

I dream of her sweeping the sidewalk, vacuuming every day, hanging sheets on the line, ironing baskets of clothes. This woman could clean.

Most of all I dream of her and her house. The way she smelled and the way she looked. I dream of the way I knew her house, how no other place has ever felt more like home. I don't know why I'm dreaming of these things, but I'm sure glad I remember them.