Last night I was at home with my mother. None of my friends were around, so naturally I spent a solid 15 minutes staring at my ceiling fan until I came up with an idea solid enough to entertain my undiagnosed A.D.D. Then, it hit me. Earlier that evening my mom had her boyfriend and his son over for a porterhouse BBQ extravaganza and whipped out the cookbook my grandma put together as a fundraiser for her temple back in the 1800s. That was a lie. It was sometime between 1970 and 1980. Or earlier. Okay I have no idea. Regardless, she took out the cook book to look up my late grandfather’s sangria recipe (see, I wasn’t lying about the wine obsession in my last post). She left the book out so in my boredom phase I naturally started flipping through the pages. I made my way to the cakes section and found an interestingly titled recipe submitted by my grandmother. The name was “Dom Ecom Cake.” Yes. Dom Ecom. When all was said and done it’s a pretty simple chocolate cake, but because of the name I knew I HAD to bake it. So I ran out to the grocery store, at roughly 9:45PM, and bought all of the ingredients…along with Special K cereal because it was on sale.
I drove home and got to work. When I arrived home I was greeted by an army of toothpicks on the floor. As it turns out my mom decided to take some of the ingredients out of the cabinets for me and knocked over a box of toothpicks. She popped her hip out a few weeks ago so she “couldn’t bend down to pick them all up so [she] figured [I] would do it for her.” So I did. THEN I started baking.
Now, I have never baked ANYTHING from scratch on my own, or at my own will, or from start to finish without stopping midway and making my mom finish it up on her own while I went to watch some television or play Guitar Hero. So this was certainly a first for me. And while I had my mom standing by to supervise, and to answer all of my measurement questions (seriously, who knew there’s 16oz in a pound?) this was very much my own doing.
So I mixed all of the ingredients together and put the cake in the oven. 45 minutes later it came out and I watched it cool like a 13 year old girl at a Justin Bieber concert.
In the meantime I called my grandmother.
“Hi grandma. I was looking through “Beyond Tuna Fish” (yes, that’s the name of the charity cook book she put together) and I came across this Dom Ecom Cake and decided to make it.”
“Oh you did? (laughs)”
“Yes. I just took it out of the oven. It’s my first time making any of your recipes so I’m going to bring you a piece to try.”
“Only if it turns out good.”
Seriously? Not, good job! or, I can’t wait! Nope. Not even close.
“Well, I won’t know if it turns out good because I’ve never had it, so I’ll ask mom.”
After the conversation I served a slice to my mom and she said it was “good.” This made me nervous because I WANTED MY GRANDMOTHER’S APPROVAL. So I tried a slice and it was more like damn good.
So today I brought the cake to my grandma’s apartment in the city. She had just eaten dinner so she was too full to try the cake just yet, so I sat in anticipation. Finally, my grandma came into the room while I was watching the Met game or The Glee Project or something like that and uttered the best words I could hope for, “the cake was perfect. That’s just how it should taste. Good job.”
I swung hoping for a single, but I wound up with a home run. (seeing as I just used baseball reference I was probably watching the Met game)
So then I asked the question I had been dying to ask: what the hell is a Dom Ecom? The answer, “I don’t know it was my mother’s recipe.”
Finally, civillians can sleep soundly.