Spice cake

Sitting in the kitchen with a cup of hot coffee, savoring a piece of perfectly moist spice cake with perfectly sweet buttercream frosting, I looked across the island and watched my Tim take another bite of his cake. I tentatively asked him, "How does it taste?"

"It tastes like love," he replied, cutting another bite off with his fork.

I looked down at my half-eaten piece of cake and agreed. It does taste like love.

Twenty years ago, I made a five tier wedding cake in a crowded, rented apartment with broken air conditioning, and delivered it to La Scala for my wedding reception. I had a lot of decorating help from friends and family. Three flavors. Vanilla, chocolate, and the top layer was spice. I have remade the spice cake once a year every year since--and not always on our anniversary. Sometimes in rounds that I'll stack and decorate with fancy flowers, sometimes in cupcakes so we can eat on the go, sometimes without frosting, but most of the time in a simple 9x12 cake pan.

It didn't matter what we were going through or how busy we were, we could at least count on spice cake for our anniversary. For the first two years, I made the cake in a rented oven in a rented house. The next 17 spice cakes were made in our home on Rainswept. And today, for our 20th anniversary, I made a spice cake in our new home.

And it tasted like love.

Twenty years worth of experiences and joy and adventures and heartache. Twenty years of life and change and fear and faith. Twenty years of happiness and sorrow. Twenty years of love.

I look at Tim knowing full well that the years have aged him, but still seeing the sweet, funny boy I fell head over heels in love with during my freshman year of college. I don't know what he sees when he looks at me, but I know what I see in his eyes--I see love.

The same love I saw when he handed the pastor the umbrella during our soggy, outdoor wedding ceremony, grabbed me, and dipped me into the pouring rain for our first married kiss. Sometimes, I can still feel those raindrops hitting my face as I laughed into that kiss.

The same love I saw when we stood before a judge and promised to do everything we could to raise two precious boys who were entrusted to our care. And all the love, over all the years, that he poured into those boys. And the love I still see in his eyes when we talk about them.

The same love I saw not one year later when he leaned over the operating table, looked deep into my terrified eyes, and calmly told me we have a daughter. And he gave her the name Esther-Faith. And all the love and protection and FUN he continues to pour into her life.

The same love I saw this morning when he cut the spice cake into much too big pieces, put them on hand-painted thrift store china plates, and sat across from me on the morning of our 20th wedding anniversary for a stolen moment and a piece of spice cake and a taste like love.

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Spice Cake

2 cups of flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
1/4 tsp ground cloves
1/4 tsp ground ginger
1/4 cup butter
1/4 cup shortening
1 1/2 cups sugar
1/2 tsp vanilla
2 eggs
1 1/4 cups buttermilk

• Preheat oven to 350 F.
• Grease and flour pan(s). 
• Stir together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and ginger.
• Using a mixer, beat butter and shortening on high for 30 seconds.
• Add sugar and vanilla. Beat until combined.
• Add eggs one at a time, mixing well after each.
• Add dry ingredients and buttermilk alternately until well combined.
• Pour into prepared pan(s).
• Bake for 30 to 40 minutes depending on your pan(s)--until toothpick comes out clean.
• Let cake cool completely, and frost.
• Buttercream frosting: Cream together one cup of shortening, 1 tsp of vanilla, 2 TBSP of cold water, and a pinch of salt. Add 4 cups of powdered sugar until creamy. Add additional water if necessary. 

© 2006-2018 Karin Shirey Henn, all rights reserved. 
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