The Joy of Depression (cake)

This was supposed to be for the A Taste Of Home challenge, but I was a little late, so here it is anyways.

When I began to search my mind for meaningful recipes, there are some interesting divisions that happened naturally. Firstly, the few distinct recipes that were standards in our household when I grew up. These were usually very large concoctions that could sustain at least five of us (often more) for a few meals. Corn chowder, Vichyssoise, my mother’s bread. The bread would always be made in huge batches, 10 or 12 loaves or more at a time.

Then my mind hops forward to when I was raising my own children. I became a vegetarian myself when the three boys were very young. We never forced it on them, but instead got used to always making both a vegetarian as well as a meat or fish option at every dinnertime. Molly Katzen’s Moosewood cookbook became my go-to during that period. Her vegetarian lasagna, with cottage cheese, and mozzarella, was a family favourite, not to mention a vast array of soups, and squash recipes. After we made our pilgrimage to the Moosewood Restaurant in Ithaca, New York, in the early ‘90s, we shifted allegiance to the fabulous Sundays at Moosewood cookbook, which we bought when we were there. It’s a collection of recipes sorted by country from around the world, and is absolutely wonderful. (I since let the vegetarian thing slide - after a solid 24 years. But I still love it.)

Now, I have relocated to Stockholm, Sweden (since 2001), and the recipes have changed a little. Much more varied, and not following actual recipes so much anymore. Except for inspiration and ideas. I’m more likely to just see what’s at home, or what’s for sale at a good price, and go from there. Not really many “go-to” recipes anymore.

So, when it comes to recipes that hold a special place in my heart, where do I go? What is that recipe that pulls at the salivatory glands of my inner child? That makes me think not just of the actual food, but all of the circumstances that surrounded it? Wacky cake!

It’s more than likely only a relatively small group of people that would respond to those words with the correct blend of nostalgia and salivating – instead of curiosity and what-the-f-isms. However, my three younger sisters, along with our multitude of cousins, know exactly what it is, and I’m pretty sure it means just as much to them.

To lay a little, just a little, background – we grew up about as poor as one could grow up, in a housing project in downtown Toronto – late ‘60s and right through the ‘70s, named Alexandra Park. It opened in 1968, and in March of that year, my three sisters and I moved in, along with mom and dad. Dad left by 1971 though, and we continued to be raised there by our now single mother. (Dad left and married our mother’s brother’s wife – but that’s a whole different story.) Money had never been plentiful, but certainly became even more scarce after that. I still have the copy of my parent’s divorce agreement from the courts. Dad was ordered to pay $14.00 a week in support. That still blows me away today. As children that didn’t really affect us directly. I mean the actual cash part. What did we know about money? Though the resulting lack of food and clothing was something we experienced keenly. It meant that you didn’t waste food, at all. Period. If you didn’t eat it at dinner you could expect to see it at breakfast. But it also meant you became quite resourceful. I became a mac’n’cheese gourmet master at a very young age. However, nothing could beat the beloved Wacky Cake for sheer poorhouse resourcefulness!

The cake gets its name from the simple fact that although it is a chocolate cake – it does not require either eggs or milk in the recipe. All four of we siblings knew how to make it. A little bit of what felt like luxury. It never took long, and we usually had the non-perishable ingredients in the house.

Of course, it could be made on short notice for company – which we had lots of. Our house was the informal neighbourhood community center and crash pad. So even though we often had company, we certainly didn’t need that excuse to whip up a quick wacky cake. Perhaps if we were having guests we might splash out and make icing for it, if we had butter and icing sugar. If we were on our own, we didn’t usually bother with that extravagance. In fact, straight out of the pan was just fine for us.

The cook time is only half an hour, and even as kids we could handle that. I mean, that’s like on Brady Bunch episode, right?

Here’s the magic recipe!

Ingredients,

-1.5 cups all-purpose flour

-1 cup white sugar

-4 tbsp unsweetened cocoa powder

-1 tsp baking soda

-1/2 tsp salt

-6 tbsp vegetable oil

-1 tbsp cider vinegar

-1 tsp vanilla extract

-1 cup water

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C)

2. Soft the flour, sugar, coca powder, baking soda, and salt together in an 8x8 inch ungreased cake pan. Make 3 depressions in the flour mixture; pour oil into one well, vinegar into the second, and vanilla in the third well. Pour water over all, then stir with a fork until well blended.

3. Bake in the pre-heated oven until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean, 30-40 minutes.

Of course, we grew up thinking this was a secret family recipe that we had inherited from our mother.

However, when I did the tiniest bit of research online, I found, to not so much surprise, that it was actually a result of the depression era, when milk or eggs would have been harder to come by. It apparently also goes by other names: Crazy cake, Joe cake, Depression cake, WWII cake. Who knew we were growing up with so much history?

I kind of like the Depression cake name, because in the instructions it calls for making three “depressions” in the flour mixture. I like the serendipity there.

It’s been several years since I’ve made it. My depression-type circumstances have changed, as they did for all of my siblings. I’m thinking now that I should go back and give it a go though, just for old times sake. Perhaps as dessert after some mac’n’cheese, with button-cap mushrooms, sautéed onions, and baby peas.