Day 26: Something Old

The cake itself is not old. I just made it. But the memories attached are a little over 35 years old.

My grandmother makes a perfect pound cake. I aspire to every time, but something always comes out different - even with the same old recipe.

I remember the smell of pound cake when walking in the door as a child.

I remember waiting a few days after it came out of the oven to let the moisture settle and then cutting the perfect piece; after that piece the rest of the cake would dry out and it was time to make pound cake toast in the morning with more butter on top (something I definitely allow for breakfast in our house. Even on school days. You're welcome, teachers.)

I remember trying to make one stirring by hand and then another using a stand-up mixer and finally calling my grandmother frustrated and her telling me she uses a hand-held mixer, but not so much anymore due to the arthritis in her hands. I remember right then and there wanting to make her a pound cake every day.

I remember the perfect pound cake she made after our son was born, despite her arthritis. My husband is still talking about that cake, 7.5 years later.

I remember 3 weeks ago on Svea's 6th birthday, her made-to-order breakfast request was pound cake for breakfast.

I remember yesterday letting Corinne crawl around the dining room floor after lunch and letting her eat the big crumbs of pound cake off the floor, and not telling her to stop.

Thank you, new cake and old memories. I look forward to much, much more of you.