My Mom and Me

I was about thirteen years old and a bit stupid as most thirteen year olds are. I thought that if my mom could do something effortlessly so could I.
I belonged to 4-H and the county fair was coming up. The Director of my club wanted us all to enter something for the fair. I volunteered to make an angel food cake. My mother made countless angel foods and they were easy beans.
I told my mother what I had volunteered and man she went bonkers! “what, she said, you have no idea what you are doing!"
Well she made me do that cake twice before she was satisfied that the cake was satisfactory for the fair. This is how it went:
She stood behind me, never touching a utensil, but I am sure she wanted to grab them out of my hands and do it herself a million times.
Unlike today with a box mix that looks and tastes very good, in those days an angel food took either one dozen or thirteen egg whites. Each egg had to be separated one by one. If even one little speck of yolk got into the white, it contaminated the whites so that they would not whip up into a frothy mess. This in my estimation was ridiculous. After all the whites were separated they were put in a glass bowl and whipped stiff until a rubber spatula made a path through them. They could not be dry, but stiff enough to hold a peak.
Then the next thing the cake flour, yes, not all purpose, but cake flour had to be sifted several times until it was light and fluffy.
Then some sugar was added. Just a little bit at a time. I was a dumper, that was not how it happened in my mother’s kitchen.
After all the ingredients were put together to my mother’s satisfaction, I had to check the angel food cake pan. Even though it had been washed after the last cake had been made, it had to be washed again. If an angel food cake pan has the least bit of grease on it, the cake won’t raise.
After the pan had been rewashed, the batter was put in the pan one glob at a time. The batter then had to be spread out with a silver knife to make sure that there were no air bubbles in the batter. Believe you me, I thought this will never happen again. I could actually feel my mother breathing down my neck during this whole process.
The day came to take the cake to the fair. The judging proceeded and I was confident I would get a purple ribbon. I got a blue ribbon. Mom was kind, but reminded me that I had picked something way too difficult for a beginner. We brought the cake home and had it for a snack that afternoon. I didn’t think a blue ribbon was bad, but as my mom cut the cake she said, “oh my goodness” There was a hole in the cake that the judges had missed, that was as big as an egg.
You see the whole thing is, my mom was a professional baker. She baked for the local grocery store and for individuals. She had a reputation to maintain, I had yet to establish one. I lucked out. I never made another “from scratch” angel food cake again.