While searching for inspiration and a fix for my sweet tooth, I dug through my recipe box and found a card I’d scribbled on years ago when I had my first panic attack.
At the age of 16, out of the blue, it occurred to me that if our house were to ever burn down, my mother’s recipe box and all the familial culinary lore kept inside would be lost to the embers. I spent that summer break watching soap operas on rainy days and copying over recipes of significance onto new cards for my own box. Never mind the fact that a scanner printer was 20 feet from me at the time.
I now held the same card in my hand for Della’s Apple Cake. I’d never eaten this cake before but I knew Della. She’s my great grand aunt and at the time I hadn’t seen her since I was six years old but I grew up hearing her name with the words “amazing” and “cake” along with phrases like, “Boy, can she cook!”
With the bite of crisp fall air outside and a refrigerator full of apples, I decided it was time to “visit” Della in my kitchen. What resulted was a pan of a time-tested apple goodness. There’s really something about eating a dish that you know family members before you have enjoyed for decades.
To me, this cake represents a great way to pay homage to the apple and the South.
Today, I’m thankful for preservation of the past, handwritten recipe cards, and a Southern woman we all call Della.
I was lucky to visit Della this past summer and if you’d like to read more about our visit, click here.