In May of 1951, diner owner, Bea Turner, was asked to make a birthday cake for Toby Bruce Robishaw who was turning one. Toby’s mother, Liv, was an extravagant woman who loved to make a show of everything she did. Her son’s first birthday party was no exception.
The people Liv invited to Toby’s party were simple folk living in the hills of West Virginia. They had simple tastes and probably expected a simple dessert such as Crazy Cake. However, Liv used the occasion of her son’s birthday to show off yet again. The cake she came up with is lovely, but it was completely lost on the birthday guests.
The following recipe is the one I had in mind for the above-mentioned scene taking place in my novel, The Secrets of Dr. John Welles. By tweaking portions of other recipes, I created a cake suitable for the splashy tastes of Liv Barrette Robishaw.
Now don’t get me wrong; the cake is delicious. It’s not what one would serve at a child’s party. Here’s a passage from my novel describing exactly what Liv requested of Bea:
Three, double-layer cakes were divided by pillars with plastic circus animals placed in the space between. Red and blue icing crisscrossed the edges of the cake in every direction. A handful of colorful flags exploded out of the top layer. Every inch of the cake not already taken up with decoration had a piece of candy pressed into the icing like a gingerbread house.
Liv’s outlandish request is what prompted Bea to say, “It’s what Liv ordered.” Bea’s statement was offered as an explanation and apology to the townsfolk who understood completely.
The quantities listed below will make one layer of the cake I described above.
12 oz. hazelnuts
2 t baking powder
6 egg yolks
5/8 c white sugar
6 egg whites
Toast the hazelnuts in a 350° oven for 10–15 minutes or until lightly golden in color. Cool completely. Remove the skins from the toasted nuts by placing in a tea towel and briskly rubbing them together or place them in a colander and swirl them around to remove the skins. Grind the hazelnuts until very fine. Add baking powder and set aside.
Preheat the oven to 325°. Thoroughly grease and flour a 9-inch springform pan.
In a large mixing bowl, use a hand-held electric mixer to combine the egg yolks with the sugar until pale yellow in color. Beat in the ground hazelnuts. This mixture will be extremely heavy and sticky.
Wash your beaters to remove any traces of fats. In a separate bowl, beat room temperature egg whites until stiff peaks form. Carefully whisk 1/3 of the egg whites into the yolk mixture to lighten the batter. Fold in another 1/3 of the egg whites taking care not to delate them. Fold in the remaining 1/3 of the egg whites until no streaks of batter remain.
Gently pour into the prepared 9-inch springform pan. Bake in a preheated oven for 60 minutes or until the top of the cake springs back when lightly tapped. Cool completely on wire rack.
Cinnamon Crème Filling
1 c heavy cream, chilled
1 c powdered sugar
1 ½ t ground cinnamon
1 t vanilla
Chill a metal bowl and the beaters of a hand-held mixer in the freezer for ten minutes. Pour the heavy cream into the chilled metal bowl and beat on high speed with a hand mixer until the cream is frothy. Slowly add the powdered sugar, cinnamon, and vanilla. Continue beating until stiff peaks form.
Place the bowl of cinnamon crème filling in the refrigerator until needed or use immediately.
Whipped Buttercream Frosting
3 c powdered sugar
2 sticks unsalted butter, at room temperature
3 T heavy cream
2 t vanilla
Beat the butter, heavy cream, vanilla, and one cup of powdered sugar with a hand mixer until they are completely combined. Add the remaining two cups of powdered sugar one cup at a time. Blend well after each addition. The lighter weight of this buttercream frosting is perfect for the delicate hazelnut cake.
You can use this frosting immediately or chill for later use.
Assembling the Cake
Once the cake has cooled completely, cut it in half horizontally. Place the bottom half (cut side up) on a cake stand and spread the Cinnamon Crème Filling generously over the top with a spatula or knife to within ¼ inch of the cake edge. Place the top layer of cake (cut side down) over the filling, taking care to position it correctly.
Using a knife or spatula, ice the top of the cake with the Whipped Buttercream Frosting. Do not drag the frosting too hard across the cake. Level the top with icing and proceed to ice the sides until they are completely covered. Wipe any icing smears from the edge of the cake stand with a clean, damp cloth. Chill for at least an hour before serving.
SIDE NOTE: If you’ve never folded egg whites into batter, I strongly suggest you watch the video I’ve provided. It’s a delicate process, but don’t be daunted by it. Regardless of how you whip your egg whites, it’s the folding process the chef demonstrates that is of the utmost importance.
The Solitude of Thomas Cave by Georgina Harding is one of those novels that brilliantly breaks the rules of writing. You know, all those pesky rules about writing such as use only one POV, don’t head hop, don’t bookend your novel with a prologue or epilogue, and don’t use flashbacks. The fact that the novel was published as recently as 2007 restores my faith in the industry. With that being said, The Solitude of Thomas Cave is one of the best examples of literary fiction I’ve ever read. It’s right up there with Poison by Susan Fromberg Schaeffer and Night Train to Lisbon by Pascal Mercier.
The novel opens with the narrative of Thomas Goodlard, a sailing companion of Thomas Cave on the whaling ship, the Heartsease. Young Goodlard relays the details of how Thomas Cave came to spend an entire year by himself on an Arctic island. A rash bet between shipmates is sure to be the end of Cave, yet there is something more to his desire to stay alone in the frozen hell.
At this point, the novel slips into the POV of third person omniscient, describing Cave’s experiences. Harding writes with clarity sharper than the frigid Arctic air, and she sucks the reader in with chilling description regarding the conditions in which Cave must survive.
Part of Cave’s solitude involves reflection on his relationship with the beautiful daughter of a shoemaker. It’s a ghost story, really, and one that haunts Cave’s self-imposed exile to the point that he cannot separate dreams from reality. He does, however, manage to keep his personal history out of the log he keeps for the Captain of the Heartsease, and we are treated to passages from said diary. By having her protagonist hide some of the truth of his isolation, Harding supplies her readers with interesting details of Cave’s life that his fellow characters never know, and the reader is drawn deeper into his nightmare.
The history surrounding whaling practices is harsh, often brutal, to read. It’s not a profession with which I am in agreement; Harding doesn’t back down from the gory truth. It also isn’t long before one realizes Cave is eating whatever is necessary to survive. As rough as conditions on a whaling ship might be, by the end of the novel they seem like the lap of luxury compared to Cave’s meager existence.
Harding surprises by not ending the book with what I assumed would be the natural conclusion. At first I feared she would ramble on, simply trying to fulfill a word count. But it is in this final section that she reveals a subtle yet powerful message. She also reverts back to Thomas Goodlard’s POV and finishes the book with the truth that solitude isn’t just something we experience: it is something we can carry inside because of our experiences.
So, having recently read Jane Austen’s Persuasion, naturally I had to watch the movies to see which one did the best job of capturing all that the novel is. I’ll give the readers following my blog a few moments to finish laughing. But seriously, if I had to choose one as my favorite, it would be the 1995 adaptation starring Ciaran Hinds and Amanda Root.
With that being said, I must also admit that reading the book first will be extremely helpful because there is a large cast of characters and detailed storylines to keep track of. Without the benefit of a reading, the movie might seem patchy, as if much is left unexplained.
I believe the reason no movie will ever completely depict Persuasion, or any book for that matter, but in particular Persuasion, is because much of the prose describes what the characters are thinking and feeling. We have an in-depth view of Anne’s heart that can only be conveyed on screen by her expressions. The same is true of Captain Wentworth. However, when the characters do speak, there are no wasted words.
The thrill of romantic tension Jane Austen infused in her novel comes out well in the 1995 Persuasion. Again I found myself wanting the movie to hurry up and relieve Anne’s and Wentworth’s agony, but just as quickly wishing to prolong the scenes so I could relish them over and over. At the conclusion of the novel, I felt as if I was leaving dear friends behind, and the movie engendered the same emotions as well as put faces on said friends.
And then there is the kiss in the 1995 Persuasion when Anne and Wentworth finally overcome their insecurities and presumptions regarding each other. Ciaran Hinds and Amanda Root do it the best as we’re given the view from just over Wentworth’s shoulder as he’s leaning down to make contact with Anne’s lips, and she closes her eyes right before they touch. Let the squealing and sighing commence because it is, in my humble opinion, the best onscreen kiss ever.
As for Ciaran Hinds and Amanda Root, they do a wonderful job portraying Wentworth and Anne. He is classically handsome with high cheekbones and a regal bearing. Never is Hinds’s Wentworth the pretty, spoiled rich boy next door. Amanda Root’s Anne embodies Jane Austen’s own sentiment of being “almost too good for me.” She is perfect as the plain but pretty woman past her bloom who later revives the blush upon her cheeks the closer she comes to her one true love.
The 2007 adaption of Persuasion starring Sally Hawkins and Rupert Penry-Jones is not bad, but it’s not great. I would never dissuade you from watching to make up your own mind. My biggest complaints are that some characters’ lines end up in the mouths of other characters and too many scenes are consolidated which lessens the impact of what takes place. There is also a titch too much creative licensing going on and four times the director employs the technique of having Anne (Sally Hawkins) look directly at the camera as if making eye contact with the viewer thus conveying the depth of her feelings at the moment. Once would have been sufficient to make us feel Anne’s pain.
Wentworth in this version is handsome but not dashing, and Anne’s hair looks as if it needs a good washing. As for the kiss at the end, Anne has been running to catch up to Wentworth, and she pants too long and too hard. Then the scene drags on forever, I have to assume because of the director’s instructions or perhaps to give Sally Hawkins time to catch her breath, and the moment is spoiled. It is actually more embarrassing than romantic.
One saving grace is Anthony Head as Sir Walter, Anne’s father. It’s almost frightening how well Head portrays the depth of shallowness and vanity to which Sir Walter has sunk, caring little or nothing for those around him who he deems worthless including his own dear daughter, Anne. Kudos to Head for making me hate this character because I have to admit, sometimes I love a character I can hate.
There are a couple TV mini-series based on Persuasion from the ‘60s and 70’s and a modern adaptation all of which I’m sure I’ll miss. Until a glowing review for one of them comes from a friend or follower, I’ll stay with the novel and the 1995 movie.
No one will ever have to persuade me to read Jane Austen as I will always do it willingly. The fact that my classic literature book group chose Persuasion as our July novel pretty much sent me over the moon. Now here’s the big reveal for this blog post: I’ve never read Persuasion. My only experience with this particular novel is the 1995 Ciaran Hinds and Amanda Root movie by the same name.
Still, having viewed the movie and possessing a basic understanding of the premise of the story, I found the romantic tension Jane Austen managed to write into her slim volume to be unexpectedly amazing and toe-curlingly satisfying. Without smut or foul language, Persuasion is every bit as intense as the feelings one endures when watching the love of his or her life walk into a room and believing he or she completely out of his or her reach. Because, after all, this is exactly what our heroine, Anne Elliot, believes of the dashing Captain Wentworth.
Another point I found quite remarkable is that for a small novel it had quite a cast of characters all with diverse and interesting lives intricately woven into the tale. Jane Austen does this exceedingly well, and I never lost track of a single character. I’m not sure if Charlotte Bronte’s comment of “very incomplete and rather insensible” is toward all of Austen’s works or Persuasion in particular, but I have to disagree with her.
Of course there are always the villains at whom we boo and hiss and wish upon them more of a comeuppance than they receive, but the character of Anne Elliot with all her selflessness and caring far outshines any of the unpleasant people in the book. And, if we’re willing to admit, we should all be a little more like Anne and not wish these people ill.
While I’m usually the first to give up on a character for being a simpering doormat, Anne Elliot never comes across this way. Her heart, although broken, is made roomier to care for the people in her life whether or not they love her in return. She isn’t an unbelievable do-gooder, but rather an example of the quality of character to strive for.
The romantic in me believes Anne and Captain Wentworth live happily ever after despite any threat of war that would take him away from her or the notion that they had to wait for him to be rich enough to be worthy of a baronet’s daughter. Regardless of the mindset of the society in which they were born, raised, and lived, I believe the fundamental strength of who they are at heart is the true source of their happiness and love for each other.
I wish I had listened when people told me to remember these days. They were speaking of the days when my son, Joshua, was little. And I did remember quite a lot; I have the scrapbooks and an entire room devoted to the production thereof as proof.
There was a time when I just wanted a few more moments of sleep, to eat my meal while it was still hot, or to sit down and read a book or watch a movie in the silence and peace I used to enjoy prior to a child. As recently as yesterday when I sent Joshua to the school on his mountain bike to pick up his work permit so I could shower in preparation for taking him for a haircut so he’d look great for the picture on his temps then down to the BMV to get said temps then running home to make lunch before hubby left for work then cleaning up and staying put so Joshua could finish mowing for his dad and using the time to write a thank you note, put in laundry, and type up a synopsis for my current WIP then rushing off to buy pants for the job he started today, I thought to myself how much I want my life back!
Prior to that was all the running to obtain a birth certificate for the job and temps and work permit (I told him to have this stuff finished before school let out for the summer) as well as the three days it took him to get himself in gear to do everything listed above (I’m trying to be a hands-off parent as he matures). There’s a DVD of Persuasion on my countertop begging to be watched, a book to be finished, and don’t even get me started on how I haven’t written anything toward my current WIP or my blog pretty much since school ended.
This summer has been crazy. And really, I’m not complaining, but I wish I people who had said remember these days had also warned me that although children become more independent as they get older, in many new ways they are still quite dependent. What I used to do for Joshua was contained to our little world, our home. Now I’m pretty sure I’m trekking across America several times a week getting, taking, and doing for this kid.
My joyous internal screams were probably felt as shock waves in most of Ohio when Joshua told me he had job orientation from eight to three on Thursday and Friday. What? I’ll have two whole days to write and read? Thank, Adonai; truly You are merciful.
Josh woke me at seven thirty to take him to work (Recall, he only has his temps since yesterday, and tonight will be the first night of driving lessons). I asked all the motherly questions from did you take your allergy pill and brush your teeth to do you have your ID badge and lunch packed? My questions were greeted with one-syllable, monotone affirmations.
I drove him to work and stopped a little way from the front doors so as not to embarrass him. And then I watched my baby walk away. And I wanted to jump out of the car and convince him to come home with me where I’d make him all his favorite foods, and we’d watch all his favorite shows, and then go to Kame’s to look at hunting gear, and visit Sweet Frog for yogurt, and if he was still hungry (which teen boys always are) we’d go for burgers or pizza.
Yes, this summer has been crazy. I’ve hardly written at all since May. When I pulled into the garage after dropping off Josh, I looked beside me and saw his lunch on the drink holders where he’d forgotten it. I’ll be taking that to him around noon. If I’m lucky, tonight after his driving lesson, we’ll go for a drive with me at the wheel. It’s a habit we started in the evenings as the sun is going down. We just pick a direction and drive until it gets dark or we’re tired. Josh and I talk about everything during these drives, and the other day he told me how much he enjoys them. I don’t believe he realizes that as I drive he places his hand lightly over mine where it rests.
I know things will calm down once school starts at the end of August. My routine will be restored, and my writing will flourish. For now I’ll set it aside because I wouldn’t trade publication with the best publishing house in the world or my book selling millions of copies and being made into a movie for the moments I’m collecting and turning into memories.