The Story Of The Coconut Cake
If you checked out my facebook page this week. You’ll see what some thought was a big hash brown. Well it is not, it’s a cake. Let me explain…
My grandmother lived in rural Virginia. The limit of her indoor plumbing was that water can into the house, cold spring water. We had to heat the water. It was third world living with love. Love so thick you didn’t know how badly off you were. Even in the midst of this poverty. There are some treats that defy reason. I only spent the summers with my grandparents. During those summers, on a Sunday after church, one of the treats was her coconut cake. Where she got the coconut I don’t know. I never thought of it before. The nearest store was eighteen miles from her house.
Saturday night as we took our baths and prepared to attend church the next day she was baking a cake and Sundays’ dinner. One of my favorites was the coconut. It came out the oven lopsided every time. Looked like a ski slope with snow cascading off the plate. She put it on top of the refrigerator where it was kept into dinner.
I don’t know if it was the taste of the cake, or not but the love I remember that she put into it has lasted for fifty years. This Christmas season, my wife surprised me with a homemade coconut cake she bought from someone just as talented as my grandmother. It meant as much to me.
The cake pictured has roasted coconut on top to give it a different color. The inside is a basic white cake with vanilla crème frosting. Special ingredient, love.
It’s unhealthy. It’s fattening. It is expanding my waist line. I love it.