Spring Has Sprung...Let's Have Lemonade Poke Cake

It hardly seems we had a winter in northeastern Oklahoma this year. Not that I mind. Winter isn’t my favorite time of year. Who can forget Snowmageddon 2011? I love a good snow day just as much as the next person, but 20 inches of drifting snow bordered on the ridiculous.

In honor of this early spring, which seems to have been going on since January, I’m sharing a recipe my mother used to make that’s still a favorite in our family: Lemonade Poke Cake. When I see the daffodils in bloom, I’m reminded of this fresh and sweet yellow cake that’s so easy anyone can make it.

My father adores anything lemon. When I was little, Daddy would take everyone’s iced tea lemon wedge and eat it like a slice of orange. My pucker reflex would engage just watching him chew the tart lemon flesh away from the peel.

Momma, of course, knew that this cake was Daddy’s favorite and she made it often. I don’t remember if Momma got this recipe from somebody or just made it up herself, but knowing her, it was the latter. She was so very clever that way.

Last year I made a trip to the State Capital and I took pieces of this cake to our area legislators. They do such a good job that I thought they all needed a little slice of home. One of them called me later that evening to thank me and told me it was the best cake he’d ever eaten. He will be getting another cake this year.

To make Lemonade Poke Cake, you’ll need the following ingredients:

1 lemon cake mix (any brand will do, but I’m fond of Pillsbury and it’s usually on sale)

3 eggs

1 c. water

1/3 c. canola oil

½ can lemonade concentrate, thawed and undiluted

2 c. powdered sugar (eyeball it)

Make the cake according to the package directions. If you’re using the Pillsbury cake mix, you will use the three eggs, cup of water, and third cup of canola oil in the ingredients list. Bake in a 9x13-inch baking pan as directed on the package.

Once you’ve removed the finished cake from the oven, poke holes all over the cake down to the bottom of the pan. I use a metal skewer for this task. Don’t be skimpy in poking the holes, because you’re going to pour a scrumptious glaze over the top very soon.

After you’ve poked the cake all over, whisk together the ½ can of lemonade concentrate and approximately two cups of powdered sugar. If there are lumps of powdered sugar in the glaze, allow it to sit for a little bit and whisk again. Pour the glaze over the top of the cake.

When you pour the glaze over the cake, it will seep down into the holes and form a slight glaze on top of the cake. Allow to cool completely and serve. This cake is very rich, so you should be able to serve 15 people very comfortably. It also makes cute little petit-fours if cut up into smaller pieces.

Thank you, Momma, for yet another yummy-licious recipe. You were the best cook EVER!

Fried Cabbage and My Gram

Growing up, I was surrounded by amazingly strong women. They were proper ladies with good manners when the occasion called for it, but behind closed doors they let their hair down and became wild and crazy chicks who knew how to throw a party. They are also some of the best damn cooks on the face of the planet.

One of these women was my Gram, Ruth Darlene. Gram never went into town unless she got "cleaned up." She was a card shark, too. She'd play me at Jubal, wouldn't even let me win, and without repentance took all of my money. Her laugh was big, deep, and contagious and she could belch loud enough to be heard in about five surrounding counties. I tried to belch like her once and about tossed up my cookies.

This is Gram (seated in the black dress) with her five sisters: Melba, Patsy, Isabelle, Shirley, and Alma. Only Aunt Isabelle and Aunt Melba are still with us. (I forgot to mention Uncle Tommy - the youngest boy - in my original post. Sorry, Uncle Tommy! I think he's about the same age as my Momma, so he very well may not have been born yet when this picture was taken. With seven children, their children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, cousins, and so forth...well, you can imagine how loud it is at our family reunions! It's a good kind of loud, though.)

My Gram was one of the smartest women I knew. When my Mom and Dad would drop us kids off to spend the weekend at Gram and Pop's, Gram would stand at her picture window in the kitchen to make sure my parents were good and gone, then she'd make three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and fill three small jelly jars half full of beer. We kids thought we were something else eating those sandwiches and drinking that beer! Then, we'd all take a nap. Yep, that Gram was one smart lady!

This is me sitting on Gram's couch back in the day with Pee-Podie. My mother presented me with this pillow, made by a cousin of mine and said "Pretty pillow." Somehow, I got "Pee-Podie" out of that. Pee-Podie is buried somewhere on the side of the road between Caney, Kansas and Bartlesville, Oklahoma. I got car sick and Pee-Podie took a direct hit. Momma said it had to go.

Gram had a copper canister of bacon drippings sitting on her stove at all times. Nearly every recipe of Gram's started with one spoonful of bacon drippings in one of her well-seasoned cast-iron skillets. It just made everything taste better.

Gram taught me how to make Fried Cabbage. Usually, that fried cabbage went with beans and cornbread and it was so good I can still remember how wonderful it tasted.

Gram would be appalled to know that I don't keep my bacon drippings in a canister on my stove. That's wasteful, she'd say. She would really hate the center-cut bacon I use, too. It doesn't render nearly enough drippings.

Every once in a while, I get a hankering for Fried Cabbage, so I make some. You can, too. It's as easy as pie...

Start out with four slices of bacon (center-cut) or 1 tablespoon of bacon drippings (if you're old-school like my Gram and you've got some hanging out on your stove). Cook the bacon until it's almost crisp. Then, remove the bacon from the pan. Pour off all but one tablespoon of drippings. Again, if you've got the can and you want to save the drippings, pour them into your collection.

Next, core a head of cabbage, slice it in half, and chop it into slivers. You can use a half to a full head of cabbage...whatever amount will feed your family. Next, dice an onion - one whole small onion or half of a medium or large onion.

Add the cabbage and onion to the pan with the bacon drippings. Cook the cabbage and onion until they are nicely wilted and a little brown. Be careful not to burn it! It should look something like this...

Now, salt and pepper it generously and add that crumbled cooked bacon back in. Gram's version didn't have bacon in it, but I like bacon quite a lot, and since it's a terrible waste to throw it away (and Gram never wasted anything if she could avoid it), I throw it in.

Enjoy Gram's Fried Cabbage. With or without a pot of beans and cornbread!