AUTHOR: Sheri Lynch TITLE: Grandma Blackhair's Apple Cake DATE: 11/13/2002 03:54:00 PM ----- BODY:

Food has gotten very complicated. Cooking has been elevated from a humble domestic art to a multi-million-dollar sport, complete with the kind of specialized gear and bloated celebrity salaries common in professional athletics. Everything from water to cheese has a pedigree now, and even salt boasts its own club of connoisseurs. Expensive pots and pans engineered for the hellish rigors of a restaurant kitchen gather dust in the cupboards of suburban homes all over America. Supermarkets routinely stock once-exotic ingredients like arborio rice, blood oranges, and jicama. Funny thing is, no one seems to know how to cook dinner anymore. Food is one of the most glorious things in life, and cooking is just a fancy way of playing with food. So why don't more people do it? Too busy, is one answer. Never learned how, is another. Both make sense. A stint at the stove after a long day at work isn't an appealing prospect. But then, neither is a microwaved frozen dinner. Not knowing how to prepare food that truly satisfies our appetites, we end up eating and eating and eating, making up for in bulk what our plates lack in real pleasure. No wonder half the population is overweight. When we lost the art of cooking, we lost the art of eating too. My Grandma Blackhair was a great cook. She knew how to transform humble ingredients into delicious and satisfying meals. She worked with cheap, readily available foods and seldom experimented. There was nothing precious or mysterious about the contents of her simmering pots. Stew was stew, pasta was called spaghetti, and you'd never find anything so novel as flower petals or pine nuts in her salads. Hers was a cuisine of poverty, and she'd laugh now to see rustic fare like pasta e fagioli (macaroni and beans in Blackhair-speak) on the menu at a chic Mediterranean bistro. Waste was a sin in Blackhair's kitchen, and she was a master at using every scrap. Stale bread became the richest, most decadent bread pudding this side of Bourbon Street. Leftover rice reappeared in creamy baked custard laced with brown sugar and raisins. Her desserts were amazing - and she almost never used a recipe. Because I am an idiot, I failed to write down most of her methods and secrets and when she died, she took her best dishes with her. Except for one, an apple cake so moist, rich and easy that even I can duplicate it. This is a sturdy, unpretentious cake that can hold its own against a cup of coffee. Over the years I've tried to dress it up with everything from a brandy glaze to sugared pecans but it?s best her way: simple, unadorned, and served in thick wedges. I'm sharing the recipe only because I suspect that Grandma Blackhair always secretly wanted to be famous. It would make her happy to think that all sorts of people she's never met might bake and enjoy her cake. Don't let a lack of skill intimidate you. This is a pretty forgiving recipe that doesn't require any hard-to-find ingredients or special equipment. Grandma Blackhair would say that you probably have all of the ingredients in your kitchen right now, but she hailed from an era where people actually ate at home once in a while. Come on - would it kill you to make a trip to the grocery store? Grandma Blackhair's Apple Cake 3 cups all-purpose flour 2 cups sugar 3 tsp baking powder 1 cup vegetable oil 1/2 cup orange juice (pineapple juice is a great substitute) 2 tsp vanilla extract 4 eggs 4 med-lrg apples, peeled, cored, sliced thinly; tossed with sugar, nutmeg, and a generous amount of cinnamon, divided into two portions (SEE NOTE) Preheat oven to 350. Grease and flour a Bundt or tube cake pan. Mix flour and baking powder; set aside. In large bowl, beat eggs, sugar, and oil till smooth. Fold in dry ingredients, adding orange juice and vanilla. Gently stir to combine. Pour one-third of batter into prepared pan. Gently place first layer of apple slices. Pour next third of batter on top of apples. Add second layer of apples. Cover with remaining batter. Bake for one hour. Cool ten minutes in pan, then remove to rack. Dust with powdered sugar. NOTE: I use about three tablespoons of sugar, roughly a quarter teaspoon of nutmeg, and a load of cinnamon - enough to really coat the apple slices. Trust your inner Blackhair to guide you.

--------