January 31, my birthday is celebrated every year since 1941.
My thirteenth birthday was my most memorable birthday ever.
Never, ever forget the year that you became a teenager.
A birthday brings cake, birthday cake allows some honor and privilege.
Jelly cake made from scratch and smeared thick with jelly of whatever happened to be in the pantry from Mama's summer fruits. Blackberry, peach, or wild bullace. It didn't matter as long as the cake was yellow and stacked knee high with layers baked one at a time in a certain cast iron frying pan.
That was my favorite of all the cakes Mama ever made for us. The cakes were hovered over as the slicing took place to insure the servings were equally cut. A cake at our house guaranteed us only one slice each. I truly believe that is why the memory of cakes were are so special and the memory so sweet and vivid.
So many siblings, such slender slices. I now wonder if perhaps Mama and Daddy and the lap baby shared the crumbs from the plate.
Probably!
My thoughts of my 13th birthday and my special cake that Mama helped me bake floated this story to the front of the line so it can be written and shared.
I had the idea that being a teenager would somehow bring me fame and fortune.
All it brought was more of the same.
Except,
Mama ask me what kind of cake I wanted her to make for me.
She always was reminded weeks ahead of the big day as if she could ever miss a thing like that.
New Years Day was about early enough for me to start the process of reminding Mama or anyone in ear shot that I had a birthday coming on the 31st.
I don't suffer lateness well.
So the day before my big 13th, Mama gave me the option of choosing the icing for my cake.
" APPLE JELLY"!
Not homemade jelly, that was way to common for celebrating a 13th birthday for a girl that will be a teenager. My jelly had be apple jelly from Gilmore's General Merchandise Store in Wallace.
Smith farm didn't have an apple tree. The only apple tree in the Barnett Crossroads community grew above the crossing and the fruit was wormy and unworthy.
Mama drooped and furrowed her brow.
I knew I was treading on thin ice here. I also knew I would get apple jelly cake because Mama went silent and turned away to continue her thinking.
My big day opened without any fanfare, just the ordinary day of having Daddy driving off in the dump truck to work on the roads and ditches and paving in our district according to the dictates of Escambia County Road Commissioner, Mr. Dick Fore.
Mama busy getting everybody to hurry and get out to catch the bus to school.
My class sang, "Happy Birthday Dear Earline".
All but one of them mouthed "Dear".
I knew she wouldn't cause I watched.
"Harrumph"!
That afternoon I came back through the door from off the school bus to sniff for the smells of apple jelly cake.
Nothing!
I wilted like a pillow case of wet chicken feathers.
I found Mama in the kitchen with things all laid out on the side table ready for cake making.
"Mama, it ain't cooked yet"?
"I'm letting you make it, you need to learn to bake a cake because teenage girls should know how to make 'em".
If I wanted cake, I'd have to make a cake.
I wanted cake... really bad.
I sifted, and cracked and picked out egg shells, and measured and mixed and licked and greased and poured and checked and carefully laid out perfectly thin layers of perfectly light brown layers of yellow cake to cool.
Mama stood over the process as I shattered her last nerve. Good cake ingredients were not wasted in the Smith kitchen.
Finally the cake layers were cooled to Mama's satisfaction.
I grabbed the biggest plate in the cabinet to carefully slide the first layer onto.
I had decided to use peach preserves as I didn't think Mama had a jar of apple jelly.for the icing until she smiled and handed handed me a glass of Dixie Apple Jelly.
Mama moved the mountain to Muhammad for my thirteenth birthday.
Mama got a twofer, a new drinking glass and apple jelly.
Mama never bought jelly unless it came in a drinking glass. Smith kids held the record for glass breakage.
I smeared that jelly on and around and in between layers of my cake until it was perfect.
I stood watch over my cake until we all had finished eating supper and Mama told me that I could do the slicing.
Being the smart, forward thinking teenager I was, I announced that I would cut my slice out and Mama could slice the others.
After all It was MY BIRTHDAY.
Daddy had suffered all my teenageness he could stand.
Daddy took the knife, sliced MY birthday cake into equal parts and passed around equal pieces.
Everybody looked at me as if I was guilty and greedy.
I felt condemned for just a moment.
But that was the most delicious cake I ever baked.
Think I'll bake myself a 77th year birthday......
JELLY CAKE.
