Handwritten recipes and an incredible cake

sifting through life and flour

August 31, 2025

Last Sunday, I went through a stack of recipes that I have piled loosely and tucked in between and atop my collection of cookbooks. It’s been something I’ve wanted to do for some time: catalog and organize it all. This mess of papers is perhaps the proverbial tactile cook's treasured trove; an archive of 8 ½ x 11 print outs, handwritten notes on binder paper, an occasional email, none of which is in any semblance of order. Just a stack of history that makes sense only to me.

Most of them are random scraps of paper with a recipe scribbled quickly either in the moment or later from recall. Typically it’s capturing my friend or aunt rattling off how they made this cheesecake or those sweet potato dinner rolls or that unforgettable baked saffron rice. They run the gamut and are arguably what I consider to be some of the best gifts I’ve received. For they inevitably end up taking on a transverse life all their own and enhancing mine.

After making several piles: desserts, chutneys, salsas, biscuits, chicken mole, mushroom stuffing, etc. I began transcribing them into this little notebook. However some I’m keeping as is. They are too special; an intimate history and memento of people and places. There’s a faded folded newspaper clipping, a Swedish meatball recipe from my husband's mother in her tight meticulous pen, and the baklava recipe from my dearest friend Lorraine B, handwritten in her most graceful cursive. I have two from her actually, the aforementioned baklava and an amazing red lentil rasam. Conveniently there’s a little envelope in the back just for this.

She’s there in her handwriting, the tone, and how she describes the steps. She was one of my best friends in college. We lived together for a couple years. We’d spend the weekends hanging out in the kitchen—put the kettle on, turn up the music, and cook. We loved the joy of cooking, literally. The hot tea and a homemade pie or roast also ensured that our cold, incredibly drafty old Eugene house remained cozy. Over the past twenty-five years we’ve lost touch. The last I heard she was living up in Astoria. But she reappears every time I pull them out. It’s been awhile since I’ve made the baklava but the rasam is a staple. It’s wild because I remember the day and where we were when she jotted them down. We were no longer living together, so when I left, I made sure to fold up the paper carefully and slip it into my backpack.

It’s as though I was leafing through old letters. In fact, there’s one from Jesse, which I’ve decided to share below, verbatim. He’d sent this to me sixteen years ago. He was a incredible musician. In a rock trio with his twin brother and his older sister. I think their band’s name was America. Or something America….I’ve since forgotten. He was and is likely still a stellar baker. Typically this is not a skill that evaporated, only improves. We’d typically run into each other at these backyard parties, along with his amp and guitar, he’d bring the most divine cakes, dusted and garnished. He was an artist in every sense.

We leave on the tour today!! Okay, here is it.

All ingredients at room temp 68-70* bake at 350*

Sift together:

2 ⅓ c cake flour

1 ½ teaspoon baking powder

½ tsp baking soda

¼ teaspoon salt

In a large bowl or stand mixer beat;

1 ½ sticks (12 TBS) unsalted butter (or salted, who really cares, right??)

For about 30 seconds or until nice and whipped up

Gradually add:

1 ⅓ c sugar

And beat on high speed for about 2-4 minutes—or until lightened in color and texture

Whisk together and beat in;

3 large eggs and 1 teaspoon of vanilla

For about another 2 minutes

Then add zest of one lemon and about 2 teaspoons lemon extract, mix.

Add the flour mixture in 3 parts, alternating with, in 2 parts;

1 c buttermilk

Mix at low speed, scrape often and divide between 2 or 3 9x2” round cake pans, greased and floured. Bake at 350 for about 20-25 minutes, toothpick comes out clean.

1 jar of Heidi’s jam, spread in between the layers then top the final one with powdered sugar. I use a lil strainer and tap tap it all around.

God damn that is a good cake.

Have fun, and see ya, Jesse.

Heidi’s Jam, by the way, is a local company here in Albuquerque and they make delicious jams. Originally just raspberry, they’ve since branched out to make raspberry-lavender, raspberry-ginger, and raspberry-chili. In its place just get the best 16oz raspberry jam you can find.

Food, wait, let me be more specific, rather the finished dish that becomes what you and I serve up and eat, is part of life. It’s culture. It’s community and memory. In and of itself it’s simple, yet part of a much larger integrated story wherein we remain connected. It was a cool project because it’s like being with these folks again. All the time spent together came flooding back—the celebrations, the backyard hangs, the funky old house, work-breaks, wherever the food happened to be.

Jesse wherever you happen to be right now, thanks. You’re going to make a lot of folks pretty happy. Lorraine, you’re forever in my heart. And for all the others, in cooking we remain connected.

Yours, Erin

postscript: the cake IS exceptional!