Posts by Peggy
Old-school cakes: 5 Flavor Cake
I had the pleasure of sharing some of Aunt Regina’s recipes with Ashley West when I spent the afternoon with her recently. She cans preserves and pickles and sells them at the Denton Community Market on the Farmhouse 43 label. We featured her in a recent story to advance the fair. Ashley ended up winning six ribbons for her creations, including two blue ribbons. (I bought a jar of that blue-ribbon blueberry mojito jam last weekend. Yum.)
It was nice to spend a little time with someone who appreciates what can be found in old recipes.
Like any good cook, Aunt Regina collected a lot of cake recipes. I’ve shared a few here and here. I’ve noticed that her collection favors pound cakes. I like them, too. They are easy to make and they keep well. No fancy decorating required either. Top with fruit or whipped cream.
This one calls for a glaze. I don’t know the history of this recipe, but I checked what some Internet Peoples had to say about it. I’ve seen references to its publication in a Southern Living magazine in the 1980s. J.R. Watkins has a variation on its web site.
Given how many extracts the recipe calls for, it seems a recipe like this would have been developed in their test kitchen.
But, if it was good enough for Aunt Regina to write it down and keep it in the accordion file, then it’s a keeper.
Overheard in the Wolfe House #278
Sam (to the plumber): Well, Steve, you’ve been with us all day.
Steve: It happens sometimes.
Growing while shrinking
I’m glad we decided to etch the kids’ heights in the side of an old bookshelf from Pier I instead of on the pantry wall or some other doorway in the house.
When we built our little house on the Texas prairie nearly 20 years ago, this was supposed to be the last home we’d ever own. We cleared the land and planted 10 acres of pecans. We planted fruit trees and asparagus and berry beds. We started capturing the rainwater and saving it for irrigation on dry August days.
We planned the farm as a backup plan for Sam in adulthood. We were inspired in part by a kibbutz-like farm in Ohio that was a group home for adults with autism. If Sam had nothing else, he’d have the farm. We gave a lot of thought to how we would manage it as we aged, too.
When Mark died, I didn’t see the need to change the plans. The kids were still like fledglings then. Sam didn’t even have his driver’s license. Soon enough, I saw that all the plans Mark and I made only got us to the launching pad. The kids dreams are their own dreams.
In the end, they don’t care if the house they grew up in is the house I stay in. So, I’m not going to.
I’m not quite sure what comes next, but it starts with packing, and donating, and finding better homes for things, and throwing things away.
That wobbly old pine wood bookcase from Pier 1 has really yellowed, but I’m going to keep it. It’ll have a place of honor in my next kitchen, holding all the cookbooks, wherever that may be.
Saying farewell to that summer abroad …
Overheard in the Wolfe House #277
Sam: Everybody in this house needs a shower except me.
Michael: Well, good for you, Sam. Do you want a biscuit?
Sam: No, thanks. I already had breakfast.
The North Texas State Fair is coming
Maybe we’ll see pickles like Aunt Regina used to make. Here are some more pickling recipes for the bounty from your garden.
For the first time in many years, I’m growing dill and okra for okra pickles. They were one of Mark’s favorite. It’s taken a while for the heart to heal enough to make them again.
Don’t let anyone tell you that cooking and food and love don’t go together. They totally do.
Although I am also growing elephant garlic, I discovered one year that it doesn’t pickle with okra. Well, it does, but only if you don’t mind eating blue-colored garlic.
A day at the beach, Busan-style …
Just adorable.
I’m starting to think that we didn’t take the kids to the beach enough when they were little.
Overheard in the Wolfe House #276
Peggy (after arriving home in surprise visit in the middle of the day): You’re writing code?
Sam: Yes. (pauses) For Sibelius.
Soldier stew, a CD callback and a hiatus …
She’s going to the coast. (Yes, I told her not to take the ferry.)
As if the DMZ was a boy band …
This amount of enthusiasm for the demilitarized zone between North and South Korea gives me confidence in the next generation and the pursuit of world peace.







