I thought I saw a rosebush moving once. It was covered in aphids.
There were always mirages in the meadowlands. Fog rose off my fingertips and ink formed puddles in my nail beds. I think I used to sweat through the morning, I used to sip coffee from styrofoam cups. We used to wake up at six for doctor's appointments and to get taffy at the gas station. Ingots held against my chest would burn at the collarbone and the toll roads didn't seem so long and narrow once you've been through it enough times.
I used to think about my wedding day and I'd scream into the ceiling fan. We were poor then and I shared a bunk bed with no one. We got it at a yard sale. I'd think about my wedding day and these flowers my sister would make from folded newspaper. She'd spend hours on them at the dining room table and then crumble them all up. Mandalas made from the Penny Saver. Mandalas for only herself and the future she saw as alone. My sister would never take the ingot, but she'd fight a magpie for a nickel. My sister worked at a coffee shop for seven years. She had a plastic bouquet for her wedding. A Tuesday in October at the closest waterfall, the tags still hanging out.
I used to only date boys whose eyes showed my reflection in the high beams. Parking lot eyes. The hairs on end, we'd stumble in broom closets, the beaded chain that struck the lightbulb when you pulled down too hard. Fog on my fingertips, ink on my callouses. I kissed a boy when I was 8 and it didn't count for anything. We poked a hornet's nest and hid in a truck bed. That night I was a hairy knuckle dreamer and shucked corn for dinner.
There are still bandanas that hang from rearview mirrors. There are still smudges on my glasses from last week, when my mother pinched her shirt sleeves and tried to clean them up. There's no fog left in her bones, her skin cracks on the seams of her smile. She ran away to the Smokies when she got married. She was 25 and had three kids by then.
The summer my mother dyed her hair a blue-black, I saw a rabbit's heart still beating when it was ran over by a Ford. My sister kept walking and I tripped on my shoes.
The summer she wore a green suit to my brother's wedding, I heard a rumor that there are horses that still roam free, somewhere in the Carolinas. I think I've known one or two.
And I sat and baked a cake and thought about all those moments that I loved and how romantic I think it is to feel vulnerable. That ingot was a splinter that's dug in my breastbone, and even verdigris only gets greener. I'm tough and a puddle all in the same sentence. I forgot how loud I could yell into that old ceiling fan, but I know how bad I want to make a cake like this one for my own wedding day. I don't know if my heart will still beat when I'm ripped open on the road, but I'm excited to find out.
Oat, Almond, and Fig Cake with Duck Fat Caramel Italian Buttercream
This cake inspired me to write more, to use the grey wall I was avoiding. To keep the oven going in the dark rain in San Diego this past weekend. It is a Victorian remark on figs and dried flowers. It's simple and fulling. It's sweet and aromatic--oat, almond, fig, and duck fat. It's everything you'd want to remember on a day you wouldn't want to forget.
For the Cake (makes 3 six-inch layers or 2 nine-inch layers):
- 2 1/2 cups flour
- 2 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
- 1 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 2/3 cup rolled oats
- 2 1/4 c sugar
- 1/3 cup + 1 tablespoon olive oil
- 6 tablespoon butter, softened
- 4 egg yolks (reserve whites for buttercream below)
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 1/2 teaspoon almond extract
- 1 1/2 tablespoon white vinegar
- 1 3/4 cup whole milk (or buttermilk)
- Preheat oven to 350*F and prepare your cake pans with butter and parchment
- Sift together flour, soda, salt, and sugar twice into a large bowl.
- Pour in oats, stir well with fork
- In a separate bowl or measuring cup, mix oil, butter, yolks, extracts, and vinegar until well-incorporated
- Create a well in the dry ingredients and slowly pour wet ingredients into the middle, stirring with a fork or wooden spoon
- Allow to sit for 5 minutes, then beat with hand mixer on medium for 2-3 minutes until slightly whipped and batter creates ribbons
- Bake for 40 minutes (add aluminum foil in the last ten minutes to avoid further browning)
- Allow to cool before turning out and assembly
For the Duck Fat Caramel Buttercream:
- 1 cup brown sugar, packed
- 2 tablespoon duck fat
- 1/3 cup water
- 1/2 cup light corn syrup
- 4 egg whites, as cold as can be
- In a medium saucepan, mix sugar, fat, water, and syrup together and heat on medium high until bubbling
- As the mixture thickens and begins to give off a nutty aroma (about 10 minutes), beat egg whites in the bowl of a stand mixer, fitted with a whisk attachment
- Beat egg whites until stiff peaks form
- When caramel mixture is ready, turn mixer on medium-low and pour caramel into meringue in a thin, steady stream, beating constantly
- You will see egg whites begin to take on a glossy sheen and peaks will further stiffen
- Once all caramel is incorporated, beat on medium-high for an additional minute to reconstitute buttercream fully
To assemble: Allow all cakes to cool completely and freeze for ten minutes. Scoop some of the buttercream into a small bowl and use this portion for the crumb layer. Stack cakes. Lightly frost the cakes with a thin layer of buttercream. When completely covered, put back in freezer for 5-10 minutes. Remove from freezer and add second layer of frosting, smoothing edges carefully with an angled knife. Tip: You can scrape off excess icing or smooth out buttercream easily by continuously cleaning off knife/spatula by dipping it into a glass of warm water between icing periods. Finally, top with figs (fig or peach jam would also be good between the layers!) and add some flowers to make it pretty!