BLACK WALNUT CAKE
I married my first husband, Steve Roads, young, at just age twenty-one. We thought we were going to grow old together. I saw us walking the road of life side by side. Then, in an instant, my husband was gone. He had a heart attack and died. I was devastated. I felt overwhelming pain, a crushing rawness I hope never to experience again.
After we laid him to rest up in our family cemetery plot in Georgia, I returned to Nashville.
I was consumed by all the things that come along with the tremendous shock of losing a loved one so suddenly. The initial days were a blur; a sense of the unimaginable hung around, followed by the burden of duties to tend to, then the stark, quiet pall of grief. During this time the sight of food turned my stomach. Everyone was trying to feed me, but I was unable to eat. Friends and neighbors had brought so much food to the house that one neighbor brought over a little refrigerator to hold the excess. But I could not eat. The first few days, I would force myself to get up and eat just a chicken leg a day—but that was all I could force down. I was sick with grief.
On one of the first few days back home alone, I remember my friend Lisa’s mother, Mrs. Jones, came to the door like an angel and brought me a beautiful, lovely black walnut cake. She offered it so sweetly, with just a minute’s visit.
I took that cake into the quiet kitchen and set it down. I was home with just my dog, Buck, and I thought—and maybe even said to Buck—You know what? I need to eat something. So I cut me a piece of that cake and set it on a little dish and got me a fork. That cake was incredible: perfectly done, with cream cheese icing and just the right amount of sweet. It was late morning. Then, later in the day, I thought, You know what? I’m going to have me another piece of that cake. I went on like that for several days—maybe four or five—taking the cake out of the small refrigerator, unwrapping it, cutting a slice, rewrapping it, and returning it to the small refrigerator when I felt I could handle the least little bite of something.
When the cake was gone I was by no means done with my grief, but I’d regained some of my strength and my appetite. Mrs. Jones gave me such a generous gift of her time. You see, a lot goes into making a black walnut cake. Her homemade condolence truly comforted me. I look back on that time with such sadness, but in the midst of that sadness, there are gems of kindness. I have never—and will never—forget the gift of that black walnut cake. I thank Mrs. Jones for it each time I see her. When I think back on that time and the kindness shown to me, it helps temper the sadness even today.
Makes one 9-inch triple-layer cake
CAKE
8 TABLESPOONS (1 STICK) BUTTER, AT ROOM TEMPERATURE
½ CUP VEGETABLE SHORTENING
2 CUPS GRANULATED SUGAR
4 LARGE EGGS
3½ CUPS ALL-PURPOSE FLOUR
2 TEASPOONS BAKING SODA
½ TEASPOON SALT
1½ CUPS BUTTERMILK
2 TEASPOONS VANILLA EXTRACT
1½ CUPS GROUND BLACK WALNUTS
FROSTING
16 OUNCES CREAM CHEESE, AT ROOM TEMPERATURE
2 STICKS (½ POUND) BUTTER, AT ROOM TEMPERATURE
8 CUPS POWDERED SUGAR, SIFTED
1 TABLESPOON VANILLA EXTRACT
1. Make the cake: Preheat the oven to 350˚F. Grease three 9-inch round cake pans.
2. Using an electric mixer, cream the butter, shortening, and granulated sugar in a large bowl. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. In a separate bowl, combine the flour, baking soda, and salt. Add to the creamed butter alternately with the buttermilk, mixing well after each addition. Then stir in the vanilla, followed by the ground walnuts.
3. Evenly divide the batter among the 3 cake pans. Bake until a toothpick inserted in the center of a cake comes out clean, about 25 minutes. Cool the cake layers thoroughly in the pans, then turn them out onto cooling racks.
4. Meanwhile, make the frosting: Using an electric mixer, beat the cream cheese in a large bowl until creamy and smooth. Beat in the butter. Slowly beat in the powdered sugar, then the vanilla.
5. Lay the bottom layer on a serving plate or cake stand. Frost the top of the layer. Top with the middle layer and frost it, then the top layer. Frost the top of the cake, then the sides.
SOUTHERN SIMPLE: Eastern black walnuts are like hardheaded cousins of the familiar English walnut. They are so difficult to crack that most times a hammer has to be employed. After a long process of gathering, hulling, curing, and cracking, aside from a meager yield of nutmeats, you end up with hands stained like a sepia-toned photo. Thankfully, good-quality black walnuts can easily be procured online from Hammons Products (www.hammonsproducts.com). Still, keep an eye out for this vanishing crop at farmers’ markets and if you see a fellow selling them out of a truck bed, be sure to pick some up.
When Schlappy and I met, he was the stage manager for one of our first tours. He and I were good friends. I remember that our bunks were near each other on the bus. He was so kind and respectful and knew how much in love I was with my husband. There was never a romantic thought between the two of us. His dad passed away soon after that tour, and he moved back to Virginia to help out his mother while pursuing his master’s degree in business. Schlappy called me one day after Steve died, not knowing of his death. He wanted to come see us at a show we were booked for in his hometown of Lynchburg, Virginia. Of course I filled him in on what had happened.
Long story short, he started calling me often to check on me, just as so many of my other friends did. But he never stopped calling! He was so easy to talk to about my grief, as he had recently lost his best friend. He pulled me out of the deepest, most painful hole imaginable and showed me that I could love again. He fixed me. He gave up his own career in Virginia to come on the road to sell our T-shirts so that we could be together. He rescued me from fear and loneliness—and made me laugh again. On our honeymoon, I tucked away a little souvenir in my tummy, and nine months later our Daisy was born. It was like a wedding gift straight from heaven. Never had I ever wanted anything more than to be a mommy! Now, that’s a second chance! He’s a wonderful father and can do, make, or fix anything! And, more important, he eats dessert first!