War cake
A few years ago, my knowing mother gifted me with How to Cook a Wolf, a cookbook/memoir/essay collection by the renowned food writer M.F.K. Fisher. This quietly brilliant little book deals with cooking during World War II, when rationing, shortages, and air raids were causing upheaval and insecurity. Fisher's writing is elegant and simple, and much of it deals with the human animal's need not only to eat, but to live with dignity.
(In addition to being very "uppity" and rather scandalous, she was also a very beautiful woman. Interestingly, this comes through clearly in her writings about herself...in her lonely confidence, her assurance as she moves through the world, and others' reactions to her. It's not off-putting, but mildly strange for an ordinary mortal to slip into that subjectivity. I've seen this phenomenon before...in the writings of Mina Loy, for example.)
Within her musings about the (often beastly) subsitutions that home cooks were forced to make to their recipes in the relative absence of butter, eggs, cream, milk, and even sugar, Fisher gives the recipe for a cake she used to eat as a child during "the first war" in which butter is replaced by...bacon fat! Supposedly, the unusual amount of sweet spice will cover the flavor enough to make an acceptable cake--which may have offered hope to a few poor mothers whose young children just kept on having birthdays with blithe disregard to the fact that there was a war on.
I've always been a bit horrified/fascinated with the idea, but, virtuous as I am, I've never had access to enough bacon fat to attempt it (in direct opposition to the historical dilemma). That is, until last weekend, when I cooked up breakfast for a small crowd. An entire package of bacon yielded exactly half a cup of grease (after I poured boiling water over it, then filtered the clarified fat), just enough to execute the notorious war cake! I knew my mission was clear. And last night, I chose to accept it.
The recipe calls for wheat flour, a full cup of sugar, various leavenings (but no egg or milk), and a crazy amount of spice (cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, ginger). No salt, strangely, so I added a smidge (after I tasted the fat for any residual salt). Also strangely, the non-flour/leavener ingredients were to be mingled and cooked together on the stovetop before being cooled and mixed with the dry ingredients. I bet the pre-cooking serves to infuse the disreputable hog schmaltz with as much spice flavor as possible.
The batter was duly mixed and baked in a medium oven for a good 40 minutes. It came out looking very brown and fairly innocuous. I poured myself a glass of milk and settled down to taste.
Coarse texture, nice tight crumb. A minor amount of "tunneling"--strange because whole wheat flour does not usually pose problems with gluten overdevelopment. A tad heavy, but this may be due to changes in the action of leaveners over this century. This recipe is almost 100 years old, and baking powder is now "double acting," etc. I anticipated this and made my own baking powder for this recipe...but the balance still might be off.
And now for the million-dollar question: did it taste like bacon?
Well, yes. Though not strikingly. The flavor might perplex someone who was unaware of its dark secret. The hint of smoke might give it away, finally, and there was fleeting--though distinct--meaty flavor that is, to say the least, unexpected in a cake. Still...not bad. Reminds me of savory cornbread.
All things considered, this is an interesting, though very crude and coarse cake. I feel faintly embarrassed about failing to dislike it. I'll probably never make it again (due to supply problems as well as ambivalence), and it's even less likely that I'll serve it to a fellow human being (except perhaps as a curiosity. Most of it is still there, people!). Still, my rough-and-ready, survivalist side, the part of me that knows how to make a fire, treat a dangerous case of flu, and build a water collector in the desert, takes comfort in knowing that such a perverse cake is at least possible.
(In addition to being very "uppity" and rather scandalous, she was also a very beautiful woman. Interestingly, this comes through clearly in her writings about herself...in her lonely confidence, her assurance as she moves through the world, and others' reactions to her. It's not off-putting, but mildly strange for an ordinary mortal to slip into that subjectivity. I've seen this phenomenon before...in the writings of Mina Loy, for example.)
Within her musings about the (often beastly) subsitutions that home cooks were forced to make to their recipes in the relative absence of butter, eggs, cream, milk, and even sugar, Fisher gives the recipe for a cake she used to eat as a child during "the first war" in which butter is replaced by...bacon fat! Supposedly, the unusual amount of sweet spice will cover the flavor enough to make an acceptable cake--which may have offered hope to a few poor mothers whose young children just kept on having birthdays with blithe disregard to the fact that there was a war on.
I've always been a bit horrified/fascinated with the idea, but, virtuous as I am, I've never had access to enough bacon fat to attempt it (in direct opposition to the historical dilemma). That is, until last weekend, when I cooked up breakfast for a small crowd. An entire package of bacon yielded exactly half a cup of grease (after I poured boiling water over it, then filtered the clarified fat), just enough to execute the notorious war cake! I knew my mission was clear. And last night, I chose to accept it.
The recipe calls for wheat flour, a full cup of sugar, various leavenings (but no egg or milk), and a crazy amount of spice (cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, ginger). No salt, strangely, so I added a smidge (after I tasted the fat for any residual salt). Also strangely, the non-flour/leavener ingredients were to be mingled and cooked together on the stovetop before being cooled and mixed with the dry ingredients. I bet the pre-cooking serves to infuse the disreputable hog schmaltz with as much spice flavor as possible.
The batter was duly mixed and baked in a medium oven for a good 40 minutes. It came out looking very brown and fairly innocuous. I poured myself a glass of milk and settled down to taste.
Coarse texture, nice tight crumb. A minor amount of "tunneling"--strange because whole wheat flour does not usually pose problems with gluten overdevelopment. A tad heavy, but this may be due to changes in the action of leaveners over this century. This recipe is almost 100 years old, and baking powder is now "double acting," etc. I anticipated this and made my own baking powder for this recipe...but the balance still might be off.
And now for the million-dollar question: did it taste like bacon?
Well, yes. Though not strikingly. The flavor might perplex someone who was unaware of its dark secret. The hint of smoke might give it away, finally, and there was fleeting--though distinct--meaty flavor that is, to say the least, unexpected in a cake. Still...not bad. Reminds me of savory cornbread.
All things considered, this is an interesting, though very crude and coarse cake. I feel faintly embarrassed about failing to dislike it. I'll probably never make it again (due to supply problems as well as ambivalence), and it's even less likely that I'll serve it to a fellow human being (except perhaps as a curiosity. Most of it is still there, people!). Still, my rough-and-ready, survivalist side, the part of me that knows how to make a fire, treat a dangerous case of flu, and build a water collector in the desert, takes comfort in knowing that such a perverse cake is at least possible.