* My Fathers Favourite, Angel food cake.
[ Published by muffin on Mar 1st, 2007 in June 2007, The Cupcakes! with 0 Comments ]
Its fathers day again (tomorrow) and so in honour of fathers day, I made my fathers favourite type of cake, Angel Food.
Angel food cake is interesting to make. The texture of the cake is based on how well you whip the egg whites, and how fluffy your cake “batter” is, though its really much less a batter than it is a poof. A poofy batter.
I think its kind of interesting that my dad’s favourite type of cake is angel food cake, considering its fluffy consistancy. Most people reading this have never met my father, so I’ll try to do my best to describe him in a way that I can explain my thoughts on this…
But first, the cake.
And now, a VERY random detailing of my father.
My dad cries at sad endings of movies. I’ll just get that out there right now, out of the way. Not only does he just cry at theneverbashfulwithbutter.comhttp://www.neverbashfulwithbutter.com sad endings of movies, but he cries at the sad endings of movies like… Rudy (Sean Astin plays the little guy that just wants to play football, and in the end he gets his wish.) or Radio (I don’t really know much about this movie, since I haven’t seen it, but from what I’ve gathered, its a heartfelt movie about Cuba Gooding Jr. as a mentally challenged man that has something to do with sports.) But his movie time crying doesnt end with just sports movies…
I’d like it to be known that my father cried at the end of Disney’s Iron Giant. Yes. Iron Giant. An animated movie about a boy and his robot. Sometimes I think.. Maybe my dad sees himself as that boy, and he lost his robot long ago..
..But then I start to chuckle, because my dad is crying at a cartoon.
I guess I should go to explain further. My dad doesn’t look like the kind of guy that would cry at football movies.
He’s about 6′3″, 250 pounds. Bright orange hair growing wildly from the sides, and the majority of the top of his head. His only facial hair is a thick orange tuft of mustache, and an orange goatee accented by two bright white stripes growing down both sides of his chin. He can usually be found in his work attire- Button up shirt, Dress slacks, a tie and some shiny shoes, but as soon as the weekend hits, he’s wearing a pair of jean shorts, a sleeveless shirt and tennis shoes, he’s either wearing a cowboy hat that he’s owned since the mid 80’s, or he’s got his reading glasses on, perched atop his head when they’re not in use. He’s a big country dude, if he was wearing leather, he’d look like an old biker. No joke. Not someone you’d expect to find their sensitive side in the ending of a sad movie.
The thing about my dad is, he’s really a great guy. He’s got this crunchy outer shell, and he’s full of all this soft fluffy stuff.
My dad is the kind of guy that doesn’t expect much, and is ever grateful for what he does get. I don’t know how many ties he’s managed to amass over the years of my childhood, recieving a tie for his birthday and a tie for fathers day, and possibly another tie for christmas from both me and my older sister. Still, he would make a point of at least acting excited about them, and on the days that he wore them, he’d make sure that we saw that he wore OUR tie to work that day.
My dad is the kind of guy that appreciates the humour in gag gifts, and appreciates the heartfelt sentiment in handmade things. I planned out my dad’s 50th birthday present for two years. I collected a penny for each year that he’s been alive. At that time, 1954 to 2004. I mounted these pennies to a board and under each one representing a year where something major happened in his life, I wrote down the event and the exact date. Things like when he got his drivers license, when he met my mom, when he started working at the job he currently has. He loved it. And yes, he cried after he looked at it. Now he’s got it hanging above his window in his office. Other things he has in his work office might seem slightly strange to outsiders, but between me and my dad, they have meaning.
Like the cabbage patch doll that I had since they first came out, dressed in a business suit that my mom sewed. I gave this to my dad for Christmas one year. It was supposed to look like him in a business suit. (the random tuft of hair on the top of the head really sent that message home. *smile*)
He also has three paintings that I made for him when I was in highschool. I never knew he had them hanging up at his office, I just thought he put them somewhere, but imagine my surprise when I visit him at work one day, without him even knowing that I was going to be there, and there all this stuff is, things that I got my dad, or made for my dad. Prominently displayed. That makes a girl feel good.
When I was growing up, I spent the majority of my time with my dad. I have a lot of memories with my mom, but she was around more often, since she was a stay at home mom. But when it came down to it, when she wanted to go somewhere, she’d take my older sister, and I’d stay home with my dad. We spent a lot of time watching TV, but that was ok. I’d rather watch tv with my dad than go shopping with my mom. I’m still like that today. I’m not much of a girly girl. I hate shopping. I’m a list girl. My dad, he’s a list guy. If its not on the list, its not in the cart. Thats just how we do.
We did other things. We went fishing a lot. I liked fishing, though I wasn’t a big fan of putting the worm on the hook, so he bought these bright coloured marshmallows that had stuff that smelled like bait on them, so I just had to put a marshmallow on the hook. He taught me how to cast the line, how to reel it back in, and how to have the patience to sit back with a cold one (Big red soda, for me) and wait for something to happen. I think I only really caught like, 2 fish in my entire life, and both of them I made him throw back, because I felt so bad for the fish and their family (yeah, I was that kinda kid). My dad was friends with this guy who owned a convienience store, and we’d go visit him after we went fishing, or whatever it was that we did during the day, and he’d let me pick out whatever kind of soda I wanted from the refrigerated case. Coming from a poor family, this was a special treat, and I felt special because I got one and my sister didnt. *smile*
I’ve got other, more random, memories of my dad.
Whenever we had a family reunion, my dad would hook up the trailer to the back of the tractor, throw a couple hay bails in there, and give all the kids a ride through the yard. He’s always been good with kids, because he’s like a big kid himself.
He built the huge playhouse that my sister and I spent a huge chunk of our childhood in (that was made with such quality that when we sold it to someone else, it was easily transported, and is actually still in one piece to this day.) He built me a “goodie stand” which I used until I was around 12 years old, selling lemonade and cookies and cupcakes at every garage sale my mom had during each of my childhood summers.
My dad was a smoker.. but he would pay me one penny per cigarette butt I picked up out of the yard or in the driveway. He even made me this thing to pick them up, with a nail in the end of an old broom stick. One time he paid me almost 50 dollars, which was a ton of money to a little kid.
My dad has a twin brother. An Identical twin brother. For a while, my dad and I stayed with my uncle, and I would get the two of them confused sometimes, because they looked so much alike. My uncle had a pony tail, so sometimes I’d check the hairline before saying anything to either of them. My uncle always seemed pretty much like my dad, though its pretty obvious that my dad was the shy, less outspoken twin…
This isn’t so much a memory, but it speaks to my fathers character- My mom used to be a waitress at Sambo’s restaurant. My dad was one of the guys that sat at the bar and drank coffee. Apparently he liked my mom so much, but he never knew what to say, so he’d give her really big tips and then just leave and not say anything. He actually sent his brother in to approach my mom, you know, “my friend likes you” kindergarten style. After they went on a few dates, they moved in together, and they got married 6 months later. Its been almost 30 years now.
One spring, he took my sister and I to go pick huckleberries on Mt. St. Helens. We emerged a few hours later, purple stained faces, carrying 5 gallon buckets full of berries that we lived on throughout the summer. I think he would have taken us on more berry picking excursions, but he worked a lot to take care of our family.
My dad was the kind of guy that would scold you for doing something stupid like jumping off the back of the exercise bike onto the couch, but he’d cry along with you if you got hurt. He was always afraid of me and my sister getting hurt. I knew he loved me because he only yelled when I was doing something that would cause me, or someone else harm.
My mom says that I was my dad’s favourite. Its possible, but only because I spent a lot more time with him than my older sister. Also, spending so much time with him meant he had time to teach me things, and then hold me to the expectations that he built up based on those things he taught me.
Mostly the stuff he taught me had to do with cleaning or cooking. Things like, how to fold a towel. Longways- fold in half, then half again. Sideways, in thirds. And How to make a perfect pancake- Never use a pan on the stovetop, always use a griddle. Don’t butter the pan after the first pancake, but use the temperature control to keep the pancake from sticking. We had a ladle that held exactly 1/8 of a cup of batter, and that made the perfect pancake. He even taught me how to swirl the batter so it came out perfectly round and exactly the same size as the rest of the batch.
There were other nitpicky things that my dad “taught” me, most of them are still habits to this day. I look at it as a good thing, because it keeps me more organized and structured. My dad is a pretty structured guy.
But I remember when I thought my dad would no longer be there for me.
I was working at Michaels Craft store, and everything was normal that day. I was in charge of the art classes, and that day I spent the majority of my morning in the classroom, working with the kids in my class, cleaning up, or planning things out for the next day. My manager came running back and told me “you can go home if you want” which seemed sort of strange, because I didn’t ask to go home, and the store seemed pretty busy, which normally means they would ask me to cashier or something. I looked at her funny, ’cause it seemed weird, and she continued “well, I just got off the phone with your mom, she’s on her way to pick you up”.
This was especially odd, because I didn’t live with my mom. I was living with my first set of evil roommates, so I honestly thought something happened with them, and my mom was coming to tell me about it. Small towns, people gossip, you know how it is.
Anyways, my manager told me to go ahead and keep working until she got here, unless I wanted to clock out. I kept working, A girls got bills to pay, you know? I was walking up from the classroom, towards the front of the store to go sort baskets when my mom came running in, crying. She told me she needed me to sit down. We went back to the classroom, and we sat down.
“Dad’s in the hospital. He’s having heart problems, and they’re not sure if he had a heart attack or what.”
I don’t recall replying to her statement.
“You don’t have to leave, but dad is at the hospital, and we’re not sure how much of a recovery he’ll make.”
Still, no reply crossed my lips.
“I just wanted to tell you, so you knew what was going on. I know you and your dad are close. He’d like you to be there.”
I told her I just needed to clock out and I’d follow her to the hospital. My dad? In the hospital? This sort of thing just doesnt happen. My dad never was much of a “going to the doctor” type of guy, just like he wasn’t much of a “going to the dentist” type of guy, and he never had tooth problems, so why was he having heart problems?
We got to the hospital, and there was my dad. The first time ever I saw my dad laying down. He was quick to put on his “everything is ok” voice, and reassured me that he would be fine. I had my doubts. There he was, sitting in the hospital bed, drinking water from a pink plastic cup, looking rather large compared to his surroundings. He used to be much larger back then. His being thinner now is a direct result of what the doctor told him after his heart failure.
He had to stop smoking, he was put on a strict, low/ no salt diet. Tons of medications. He’s done surprisingly well. And I’m grateful for that, I want my dad to spend as much time on this planet as possible.
The cool thing about angel food cake, is that it has very little sodium in it, and compared to other cakes, its pretty dang healthy. So there is no problem with him having a slice every now and then.
So tomorrow, when father’s day is in full swing, he can have his piece of angel food cake, watch his tear jerker disney movies, and enjoy. Its his day, afterall.
I reserve the right to continue teasing him though, thats how it works for us. I tease him, he laughs. Its a great situation.
I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours. Making angelfood cake is supposed to be more difficult than other cakes, because you’ve got to make sure the egg whites stay fluffy while you’re mixing it all in, otherwise you’ll end up with flat cake instead of fluffy, airy angelfood cake. Thats what the cream of tartar is for. Its a a stabilizer for the egg whites. Thats why its so important that you don’t omit that ingredient.
Anyways, I had fairly good luck making this, though I made them as mini cakes rather than a full sized ring cake, as is traditional. Either way, the recipe is delicious, and I’m sure my father will really enjoy his mini cakes tomorrow.
Recipe for angel food mini cakes-
1 1/2 cups egg whites (11 to 12 large eggs)
1 1/2 cups confectioners sugar
1 cup cake flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 teaspoons cream of tartar
1 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
Let egg whites stand in bowl of a standing electric mixer (see cooks’ note) at room temperature about 1 hour before making cake. (They should be about 60°F, slightly below room temperature.)
Set oven rack in lower third of oven and preheat oven to 350°F.
Sift together confectioners sugar, flour, and salt onto a sheet of wax paper using a fine sieve.
Beat whites in mixer until frothy. Add cream of tartar and beat at medium speed until they form soft peaks. Add granulated sugar gradually, beating, and continue beating just until whites are thickened and form soft, droopy peaks. Beat in vanilla.
Sprinkle one fourth of sifted dry ingredients over whites and fold in with a rubber spatula gently but thoroughly. Fold in remaining dry ingredients, one third at a time.
Gently pour batter evenly into ungreased tube pan (or about 30 paper lined muffin cups) and bake until top is light golden, cake retracts a bit from pan and springs back when touched lightly, and the cracks are NOT sticky, 40 to 45 minutes for the full sized pan, or 15-20 minutes for the mini cakes. If using a ring pan, invert pan onto neck of an empty wine bottle or a large metal funnel and cool cake completely.
Its really important not to try and remove the cake while its still hot. Even trying to remove the mini cakes from their papers is a bad idea until they’re fully cooled. Then it will be really easy to remove them from their papers, or remove the cake from the pan.
You can garnish your angel food cake however you like. My dad likes frosting, but you could use whipped cream and fresh berries, which is how I would typically dress my angel food cake, since its so delicious.
Enjoy!
-A.
Leave a Reply