My grandmother made the most wonderful cake that I know I will never have again now that she has passed away.
It was hickory nut cake with boiled icing. Everything made from scratch. As my grandmother would say, a real pain to make. But the fact that she would make it for me let me know she loved me.
She’d crack the hickory nuts and pick all the meat out of them, usually the hardest part. Especially with her arthritis. The cake was delicate and moist. The frosting was light as air.
More than anything I wish I could have just one more piece. Mostly because it would mean being in my grandmother’s kitchen, sipping coffee and just being with her.