Editors' Notebook

My Aunt Shirley's funeral service delivered a somber reminder of how long it had been since I had seen her. Between family news reports from my mother, Christmas letters and social media posts, time morphed into a series of mentions, rather than personal visits.

So, when the pastor asked for remembrances, I found myself at an uncomfortable loss. Her voice and distinctive laugh rang clear in my mind. But put on the spot for specifics, I sat embarrassingly silent.

Long-term memory finally kicked in during the lunch gathering. The church women had set a bounty of hearty dishes to nourish us. But something was missing at the dessert table.

Aunt Shirley always brought date cake to our family gatherings.

Like a pump finally primed, sweet memories swept over me. Date cake is a dark brown and gooey quick bread laced with chopped dried dates and punctuated with English walnuts. Think of it like a moist fruit cake without the candied fruit.

During those family gatherings, it was served with a dollop of whipped cream. That white glob of goodness was almost better than Christmas. My grandmother would hover over the kids' table during dessert time to make sure the cake got consumed along with the topping. Grandmother taught school in the days when children kept their mouths shut and she wasn't the last bit fooled by those who licked up the whipped cream and made false claims about needing more to choke down the cake.

This of course begs a question: If this date cake was so wonderful, why didn't the adults save it for themselves and simply give us whipped cream?

Because they were adults and they knew things, that's why. Asking questions like that back then would have gotten you ear lifted from the table with a threat of no treat until you were old enough to know better.

I returned home from Aunt Shirley's service and dug out my childhood recipe box from the depths of the pantry. Within it I found the yellowed and ingredient splattered recipe card written by a shaky youthful hand that read: "Mrs. Wheeler's Date Cake ... Best There Is."

In my memory, I remember that proclamation punctuated with an exclamation mark.

I can still picture my grandmother in her crowded farmhouse kitchen shouting over the den of familial voices: "Did you bring the Date Cake?" And Aunt Shirley answering on cue: "Best there is!"

I never met Mrs. Wheeler. Aunt Shirley had inherited this recipe from her family and sharing it was a way of sharing that legacy.

These days, googling for recipes is easy but lacks the seasoning of tradition. My wooden recipe box (built by my grandfather) is a flour-dusted time capsule to my past. The handwritten cards are inked dedications to preserving the process. And these written receipts may be indexed by food categories, but they could just as easily be sorted by the name of the person known for the culinary creation.

For example, I'm frequently asked to share my chocolate chip cookie recipe. I always take time to explain that it is "Mrs. Carmichael's chocolate chip cookie recipe." Mrs. Carmichael's son was a college friend, and she kept him so supplied with cookies that many students became buttery benefactors.

When I wrote to her in 1976 and asked for this special recipe, I was surprised to discover it consisted of the same ingredients as those listed on the back of every chocolate chip package. The difference, she explained, was the caring stirred into every batch and recipients savvy enough to savor the connection.

I was thinking about this when I gathered the items needed to make Mrs. Wheeler's and Aunt Shirley's date cake for the first time in decades. As I followed the directions, I found myself wishing I could tell her how I saw dates growing on a trip to the Persian Gulf and how her cake provided a touchpoint to home in those distant lands.

I longed to tell her how the smell of date cake baking lured my husband to the kitchen. How I turned my back for an instant and he was cutting the cake before it was cool enough to slice. I would tell her how I was tempted to scold but stopped short when I saw the pleasure in his first bite.

I would tell her how he carved off a hunk of the cake to share with a neighbor and then asked if I'd bake another loaf. I would confess that the second time I made it, I tweaked the recipe to make it "better," and those efforts failed.

I would tell her how I went back to the tried-and-true recipe, and how friends and a new generation of family have enjoyed tasting this cake and hearing the story behind it. I would tell her others now ask: "Did you bring the date cake?" To which the response will always be: "Best there is!"

Mrs. Wheeler's Date Cake: Best There Is!!

-- 1 cup chopped dates

-- 1 teaspoon baking soda

-- 1 cup boiling water

-- 3/4 cup brown sugar

-- 1 tablespoon shortening

-- 1/2 teaspoon salt

-- 1 1/2 cup flour

-- 1/2 cup nuts

-- 1 egg

-- 1 teaspoon vanilla

Chop dates. Sprinkle baking soda over all. Add boiling water, brown sugar, salt and shortening. Let stand 5 minutes. Add remaining ingredients in the order listed. Spray or grease loaf pan before adding batter. Bake in slow oven 300 degrees for about 50 minutes.

Pamela Smith can be reached at pamela.smith@dtn.com

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