Those nasty box cakes
My mother had an electric mixer with a rotating bowl that blended her cakes into creamy smoothness, and she always let me lick the bowl clean. All that yummy raw batter *shudder*
She had nothing but contempt for what she called box cakes: “Mrs. So-and-So made one of those cakes from a box for the party. It tasted terrible.”
I asked her what terrible tasted like. “Chemicals,” she said. I was quite impressed with her knowledge.
To my mother, box cakes were a sign of laziness. You made a cake “from scratch” for your family, with wholesome ingredients like twice-sifted cake flour, white sugar and fresh raw eggs. You didn’t take short cuts when it came to cake.
The devil in Duncan Hines
Box cakes have come a long way from the early 60s. When I baked for my children, nothing could hold a birthday candle to a Duncan Hines Devil’s Food Cake Mix. It came out perfect every time. And, gosh, it was so easy.
My mother, however, was certain she’d passed her made-from-scratch ethics down to me. I’ll never forget a birthday gathering when she asked me, loudly, one discerning brow raised, in front of my in-laws, “Is this cake scratch?”
She assumed I’d impress everyone by saying yes, like a good daughter who’d learned her lessons from the master.
It took me a moment. Should I lie? “You can’t tell?” I answered.
She nodded proudly. I confess I felt a little guilty as I looked around the table. Surely no one could tell.
I hoped not, anyway.
