A Yankee in a Southern Kitchen

Having missed my typical schedule of an every other day post, one of my daughters called to ask me, why aren’t you cooking? Why haven’t you written? I am getting hungry and can’t eat another sandwich. Not one for excuses, I have a good reason for the stop work order in the kitchen. The end of the week was enough to kill any appetite and I am still trying to recover.

If you wish to avoid the story which doesn’t have one once of humor or wit in it. Not to mention, absolutely nothing to do with food, then move on to the paragraph that talks about the Figgy Fig Cake. I will not be offended, especially since I won’t have a clue what you have or haven’t read of this post.

Making an attempt to walk off a few pounds in addition to needing to walking off some stress. I decided to walk our beautiful bridge in Charleston. The largest span bridge in the states it towers over the Cooper River offering unparalleled views of the Holy City of Charleston. It is a 5.2 mile round trip trek, equipped with a strong ocean breeze for the out of shape and those inclined to intense hot flashes. My kind of walk. Thursday, I headed on the path at around 5pm knowing it would be quieter and perhaps even cooler.

On my return back as I headed down the bridge walk, I encountered a young man hanging to a poll on the other side of the 8 ft guard rail. It was clear from the beginning what his intentions were. I believe the bridge is about twenty stories high. He stood unprotected while high winds blew. I went over to talk with him. He was hurting and I listened to his story. It was just the two of us and I prayed for someone to see that we were in trouble and help was needed. He needed saving and I needed help in trying to save him. I tried to keep him focused on talking to me and begged him not to jump and climb back urging him over to safety. Clearly by his eyes it was obvious he was a nice young man who had a lot to offer the world, and I told him so.

It seemed like ages before help came and not knowing if or when it would come made the time longer. It was the most surreal experience I have ever had, being up there alone with him. Trying to find the right words and at the same time praying for help to come while being unaware of time. I could see out of the corner of my eye a police car who stopped on the bridge. A policewoman came asking what we were doing? Was I family? No, I am not. I was just walking by and we are talking. Luckily another unit came by and one of the officers had the skill to speak to the young man in a calm non-confrontational tone.

The young man let his guard down for a second. An arm was grabbed as was his shirt. The third officer climbed over the railing in record speed and the young man was pulled to safety. The ledge barely had enough room for two sets of feet it was so small. The agile officer risked his life with out a moments hestitation by climbing the rail to keep him from falling. One wrong move or moment of struggle and they both would have plunged to their deaths.

After he was taken away, I headed down the bridge to my car. Struck by the strangeness of it all. Particularly because I spent the trek up thinking about the young girl who killed herself by jumping last year. What should have been a peaceful walk, instead was me going over in my mind what I would have said to her if I had come across her before she plunged. I must tell you this is unlike me to think this way. Not being one to focus on the morbid. I also haven’t walked the bridge in over a year. It was a last minute decision for someone who is so not last minute.

Finally at the top of the bridge I banished any more thoughts of death from my head, determined to think of good things the remainder of my walk. Not ten minutes later I was faced with someone trying to take their life. Quite oddly I was not surprised to see him. I wasn’t startled, and he wasn’t startled by me either. Our meeting had been arranged.

I also was totally calm through the entire ordeal. Clearly, without knowing I had listened to that still small voice that told me to walk, and then directed my thoughts to an out of place subject matter. God was using me and preparing me for what I would find on my way back. It is odd, as I am often at a loss for words and can miss a beat or two when talking to someone. I am not sure why God would have chosen me, other than my maternal instincts kicked in. Nothing would have stopped my from leaving his side, no matter what. Into our conversation he told me I was the third person that came by. I was the only one who had stayed.

When the incident was over and I rounded the bend to cross the street, there was a police car parked next to mine with lights flashing. Someone smashed the window to my car and broke in. They stole my cell phone and made a mess. I had to wait for the crime unit to come and fingerprint the car. By the time all was done it was a late and exhausting night to say the least. Yes, Charleston’s finest go after car thieves. God bless them is all I can say.

My story doesn’t have anything to do with a Figgy Fig Cake other than why it has taken me so long to post and cook again. The following day was just as bad if you can believe it. My daughter’s beloved Springer Peri is living her last days. More bad news followed, and I am thrown off. Planning on spending Saturday with my daughter and Peri. I brought the ingredients to cook at her place. Beautiful sunshine graced the day, but I forgot to charge my bateries hence the pictures are a day late, when the food is not as fresh as when it was first made. This morning we have a storm and no good natural light for today’s shots. I also can’t find the cookbook and will have to post the recipe once I put my hands on it. My computer kicked off and I lost the majority of my long winded story and had to rewrite it.

In the skeem of things my Figgy Fig Cake as important as it is to me and I hope to you once you try it, is a minor detail in life. But food has a way of making life better. It is one of the ways I say “I love you” to my family including the pups who I cook for. It has also become a way in which God and I spend time together.

This good old Southern stand by is really called a Fig Cake, but after making one today I am taking liberties not only with the recipe but the name of the cake. This deserves a sassier name and Figgy Fig Cake is about as sassy as I can get right now. It is a good cake. Figs are on my top ten foods list. How this recipe escaped me or why I didn’t have the smarts to come up with it on my own have left me baffled and deprived all these years? Once again buttermilk comes through offering moistness that can’t be beat.

This cake resembles a gingerbread cake though there is no ginger to be had in it. Perhaps it is the nutmeg and cinnamon they remind me of this. The recipe calls for folding in the fig preserves, all 2 1/2 cups of it. Thank goodness I have a big jar of preserves on standby for something really good. The problem with folding meant that the figs sunk to the bottom of the pan and made it hard to get out. Next time I will mix all of the figs so that it is incorporated. This recipe comes with a frosting. No need, sweet enough as is and who wants to hide the fig taste with frosting. It is a good snack or tea cake and I wrapped some in parchment to deliver to my daughter.

Fig Cake

Ronnie Lundy, Butterbeans to Blackberries

3 large eggs

1 cup sugar

1 cup vegetable oil

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon kosher salt

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

1/2 cup buttermilk

1 teaspoon vanilla

2 1/2 jam like fig preserves

1 cup pecans (optional)

• Preheat the oven to 350degrees. Liberally grease a bundt pan or two 8″ square cake pans with vegetable shortening and flour.
• Turn the pan over and tap the bottom to remove the excess flour.
• Use an electric mixer or beat by hand as I did, the eggs, sugar, and oil until fluffy and pale yellow.
• Sift together the dry ingredients and set aside.
• Add the buttermilk and vanilla to the egg mixture and beat just to combine.
• Add the flour mixture and beat until smooth.
• Mix 2/3 cup of the preserves into the batter incorporating.
• Mix or fold well the remainder of the preserves by hand.
• Add the pecans and fold until mixed together.
• Turn the batter out into the pan or pans and bake for 50-55 minutes for a bundt pan and 30 minutes for a 8″ cake pan.
• Allow cake to cool for 10 minutes in the pan, then invert onto a rack. (Loosen the edges first)

  Seasonal Fruit with Mint Sugar

2-3 tablespoons sugar

1/4 cup mint leaves

• In a mini Cuisinart pulse till medium fine the sugar and mint
• Toss on a bowl of prepared fruit such as halved grapes, strawberries, blackberries, peaches, mango, blueberries.
• Let sit for about 3 minutes till juice from fruit starts to form.
• Optional choices for flavoring are: 1/4 cup of edible flowers, lemon or lime zest.
• Serve plain or with a dollop of creme fraiche or Greek yogurt.
• Best eaten within 3 hours of being made.

Both of these have earned staple status in my kitchen and are on a list of fine Southern foods that would offer comfort and pleasure to any one that happens upon my kitchen. Nothing like a warm cake out of the oven to turn a bad a few days around.