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18

MY

ROUSES

EVERYDAY

MAY | JUNE 2017

T

here’s a scene in my friend Mara

Novak’s unpublished first novel (I

have the privilege of being one of

her early readers). Something devastating

has just happened to Ellen, the female

protagonist. In the wake of this unlooked-

for tragedy, she finds her way to the kitchen

of Ginny, her best friend.

“Ginny’s kitchen is like a warm cave, a secret

den. The dark beams make the low ceiling feel

even lower, and the walls are covered with

baskets and bunches of herbs and pictures of

chickens. The kettle is just coming to a boil when

Ellen steps into the steamy banana-scented

air. Ginny hugs her, while the kettle works

itself up to a scream, and they both ignore it.

“‘How are you doing?’ Ginny asks as she pours

(the) water…

“Ellen has given several answers to this

question over the past week:

‘We’re hanging in there,’ and ‘We’re taking it

one day at a time.’

“But toGinny she says,‘I can’t remember anything

I’ve done this week. I don’t think I’ve eaten.’

“‘You don’t remember, or you really haven’t eaten?’

“‘I haven’t been hungry.’

“‘ You’re going to eat this.’ Ginny slices off a slab

… (of banana coffee cake…)”

How is Ginny so sure? What makes the

offer of something sweet, warm, homemade,

served in a kitchen still fragrant from

baking, so deeply comforting? Why is its

there, there, it’ll be okay

” nature enhanced

when served with hot, dark, strong coffee?

First, let’s consider a more basic question.

What makes a particular cake a “coffee”cake?

First off, confusingly, it’s not a cake that

includes coffee in its batter. Rather, it’s a

cake specifically intended to be served

with

coffee. In its batter are the commonplace

ingredients of most cakes: butter, sugar,

flour, eggs, milk (or another liquid),

leavening, vanilla and/or other flavorings.

And coffee cakes as made in this country

almost always include cinnamon.

A perfect American-style coffee cake

combines these ingredients in proportions

that yield a single-layer cake, exceptionally

moist and tender, sweet but not crazy-

sweet, decidedly buttery. It’s quickly mixed,

leavened with baking powder and/or soda

(we leave the yeast-risen varieties to the

Europeans, who evidently have more time

on their hands than we do, or at least are

better at planning ahead).

And, American coffee cake is not frosted.

The lack of frosting (okay, sometimes there’s

a little decorative squiggle of white icing,

but not generally) is, I think, supposed to

fool you into thinking it is less “cake” than

it actually is, so therefore you can eat it with

impunity as a mid-morning or afternoon

snack, or at breakfast, as you would not, say,

a layer cake covered with chocolate frosting.

(I would advise not being fooled; coffee cake

is definitely cake and, alas, there is no such

thing, nutritionally and calorically speaking,

as eating cake with impunity. Sometimes,

however, I think there is a psychological

immunity, as when Ginny serves her friend

Ellen, in Mara’s still-untitled novel.)

In lieu of frosting, coffee cakes are usually

sprinkled with streusel, a baked-on crumbly

topping. The streusel, besides giving the

characteristic crunch, is inviting and

interesting, but not all that showy. However,

the

Coffee

issue

Coffee

&

Sympathy

by

Crescent Dragonwagon +

photo by

Romney Caruso