Food Memories – THE Hot Milk Cake

THE Hot Milk Cake

Back in September, I put out a call for folks to send me their food memories and recipes.  I said:

“I’m starting a project for the blog that I’m calling Food Memories and I hope you can help.  I’m looking for recipes that have special meaning to you.  Maybe it’s something your family always had at Christmas or what your mom or dad made as a special treat, just because.  What is the dish that always takes you back to a happy memory?

If you have a recipe that you’d like to share, email it to me (or just click here) along with the memory or description of what it means to you.  I will make the recipe and post it, along with your memory, on the blog.

By sharing our food memories, we honor our personal histories and the people who made them real.  I hope you’ll join me on this special adventure down Memory Lane.”

That request started a lively conversation with a BAH reader who then began to collect her own food memories.  She said, “Now I have everybody writing down “Heirloom Recipes”  I really do not want these to go by the wayside, nor the memories they stir up.  Who knew those were the best days of our lives?”  My thoughts exactly.

Actually, I need to backup just a bit because this project actually started with that reader.  Emily had emailed me looking for a peach cake recipe.  While I didn’t have a recipe for her, we began corresponding about what was cooking at BAH.  And then one day, in response to a cake recipe I had posted, she sent me a recipe for her Grandmother’s Hot Milk Cake.  Here’s what she said that got me to thinking, “My grandmother used to make this cake on holidays.  You knew it was either Easter, Thanksgiving or Christmas when the Hot Milk Cake appeared covered in buttercream icing and sprinkled with fresh coconut.”  A lightbulb went off inside my head.

We all have these food memories.  It doesn’t matter if it’s an “Heirloom Recipe” that’s been handed down for generations or something more recent that you make for you own family.  There’s a dish that will always take you to a memory of a happy time.  In a world packed with reasons to forget what happiness feels like, I think it’s important to celebrate those memories.  Whether it’s the excitement of Christmas morning, the carefree days of summer vacation, or the quiet moments of life, let’s remember them.

So thank you Emily for inspiring me to do something.  I can’t think of a more fitting Food Memory to launch this project than yours.

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The Cake of Christmas Past

Emily R.

My gramma  would be tickled pink and purple to see this!

I honestly don’t recall any name other than THE HOT MILK CAKE. Okay, to the story.  I call this The Cake of Christmas Past  (and I weep as I write it, those were the days!)

My grandmother, Rose, loved the holidays.   Christmas was her favorite time of all.  On Christmas, the little house she called home,  would be overflowing  with the sights and smells of  the season. It is the only time I ever remember hearing her sing.  I am not able to hear The First Noel without immediately hitching a ride on the Way Back machine and seeing her in the kitchen, glasses perched on the end of her nose, peering at the markings on the 1 cup measure (it was so old they were no longer readable). Makes me misty every time my mind wanders there.

The week before the holiday,  the plywood platform for the Christmas garden made its yearly pilgrimage from the basement to the living room.  My grandfather, Eli hauled out the Western Flyer trains and the mountain paper and the little mache houses and statues who populated the miniature village.  The tree was brought in, set up, and lighted.  The mantel was decorated with the tiny clear plastic trees with hooks on the branch ends for the multi colored mini balls that were hung by chubby, child fingers.  This was the signal that baking was about to begin.

Rosie usually had the necessary ingredients for the cookies and cakes and pies  to be made.  One ingredient that required a special trip was the coconut for the coconut frosted hot milk cake that defined a holiday for us.  Local stores did not carry fresh coconuts.  Certainly, the stuff in the package was not adequate for a masterpiece of this magnitude. The adventure to procure the  elusive coconut  required a trip downtown to the big produce market.

Bundled up to the eyebrows, grandmother and I  boarded  the bus in front of the house and headed south into the business and shopping district.  If it happened to be snowing, I considered this a real bonus!  Rose was not quite so happy.  When we entered the great hall of food, my senses were assailed by  the sights and sounds of the place.  It was like a circus!   Best of all was the smell.  The produce stand she patronized ground its own horseradish.  The odor permeated the entire building.  It hit your nose the minute you entered and followed you when you left.

Of course, I was impatient to get the coconut and get on to the next stop.  The market had a candy store attached.  We always stopped there.  This trip would not only procure the desired caramels for eating on the bus ride home, but also the ribbon candy that would grace the round dining room table next to the platters of cookies,  home made peanut butter twirls,  cinnamon covered,  fondant filled candies. pies and the coconut hot milk cake.  How many kinds of coconut could there be for heaven’s sake?????   Did she REALLY have to shake every one? Why did everything take so long?

Finally, all goods secured, we rode back home.  Upon entering the house, my grandfather took custody of the doomed coconut.  He whisked it off to the basement.  There were banging and thumping noises, then silence.   Meantime, in the kitchen,  aprons were tied,  bowls  came out, the  heirloom (old) tube pan appeared and the stove was lit. Cake baking began in earnest.  Soon, my grandfather appeared with the remnants of the  dismembered  coconut in hand.

He sat down in the rocking chair with the grater by the big kitchen window,  the coconut meat and a bowl.  As  Rosie put the cake together, Eli  grated the fresh, glistening meat for the garnish.  The liquid inside he kept for me.  Once baked, the cake was allowed to cool.  The buttercream icing made its appearance in the Jewel T bowl as it did every year and was soon transferred to the waiting cake.  At last, the coconut was added and the monument was complete.

While I was “OOOing” and “AAHing” over surely the most beautiful mountain of goodness ever seen on earth, my grandfather was pointing out the one  tiny place Rosie missed with the shreds.  She  was giving him the glare she reserved for us in church when we were misbehaving.

Christmas Day, the little house fairly rocked with family.  The aunts were in the kitchen helping Rosie  with the meal.  The men were in the parlor drinking egg nog and rum punch and trying not to eat Eli’s home made fruitcake.  The cousins were in and out of the house stuffing  faces with candy grabbed from the dining room table amidst  admonitions not to “spoil your dinner.”  It was a chaos worthy of the Cratchit family.

After dinner, everyone’s  attention turned to the dessert table and the delights it held.  All paled in comparison to the shining star, the coconut cake.  As it was brought into the kitchen (this was the only room large enough for the Christmas crowd) all was silence in homage.  The silence was  not broken until  the first slice was cut and passed to my grandfather. He tasted it, made a face, then smiled and raised his glass of wine in a toast to my little grandmother, Rose.

This is pretty much how it happened every year.  Until I started writing it, I didn’t even think that it was as important a piece of history as it is.  This taught me something new.

THE Hot Milk Cake
  • 4 large eggs
  • 2 cups of sugar
  • 2 cups of flour
  • 2 teaspoons of baking powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 pound (1 stick) of butter
  • 1 cup of milk
  • 1 tablespoon of vanilla

Bring milk and butter to a boil (melting the butter).  Remove from heat and set aside. In a bowl mix the flour, baking powder and salt. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Grease (I use Baker’ Secret to spray — Grandma always buttered and then floured her pan) your cake pan.  We mainly use a bundt cake pan.

In a large bowl,  mix the eggs and sugar together.  Beat until the sugar is well blended with the eggs.   Add in half the flour mixture and mix together until blended.  Add remaining flour mixture and mix till blended. Stir in hot milk  and butter and mix well. Stir in vanilla and pour batter into pan.  Do not overbeat your batter – this is the hard part, you must only mix until blended because over-beating will give you a tough cake.

Bake in center of oven for 25-35 minutes (until cake tester comes out clean).

{Printable Recipe}

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We also has some lively discussion about frosting for the cake.  Emily’s memory is of buttercream frosting but another reader suggested melting butter over the warm cake and then sprinkling with cinnamon sugar.  I was tempted to use the cinnamon sugar to “flour” my cake pans, to get a crunchy coating.  I still might try that but in keeping with the spirit of the project, I used a Cook’s Illustrated Vanilla Buttercream.  The frosting was good but I think a lighter, fluffier frosting, like maybe the CI 7 Minute Frosting would be a better compliment to the cake.

Vanilla Buttercream Frosting

Cook’s Illustrated

BAH Note:  I have doubled the original recipe to make enough for a layer cake.  The frosting can be made in advance and refrigerated.  Bring it back up to room temperature before using.  CI says to increase mixing times by at least 50% if using a hand held mixer.

  • 20 tablespoons butter, softened
  • 2 1/2 cups confectioners’ sugar (10 ounces)
  • 1 tablespoon vanilla extract
  • 2 tablespoons heavy cream
  • pinch of salt

Beat butter at medium high speed in the bowl of a standing mixer fitted with a whisk attachment, about 20 seconds. or until smooth  Add confectioners’ sugar and salt and mix approximately 45 seconds on medium low speed until most of the sugar is moistened.  Scrape down bowl and beat on medium for about 15 seconds until until the mixture is fully combined.  Scrape bowl, add vanilla and heavy cream, and beat approximately 10 seconds at medium speed until incorporated.  Increase speed to medium high and beat until light and fluffy, about 4 minutes, scraping down bowl once or twice.

Once the cooled cake is frosted, garnish with flaked or grated coconut.

{Printable Recipe}

One last thought, the recipes of our grandmothers seem to develop a mythical status over time.  I have yet to make anything better than my grandmother did.  But when I gave my grandmother some of this cake, she called me later the same day to say that she couldn’t wait until she saw me the following weekend to tell me how good it was.  She was only going to “nibble” on one layer, but it was so good that she ate an entire piece (good thing I gave her two slices).  So this recipe definitely gets the Grandma Seal of Approval!

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12 Responses to Food Memories – THE Hot Milk Cake

  1. This is a great project Wendi! My grandmother always made 1-2-3-4 cake, which seems pretty similar to this, without the hot milk.

    As for the peach cake, was that ever resolved? I know of a few good recipes floating around…

    • Wendi says:

      Peach cake was never resolved so if you have any ideas, please let me know.

      I’m really excited about the project and being able to highlight people’s food memories. And I’m still looking for memories and recipes from anyone interested in submitting them. To participate, please email me at pmf1852 at yahoo dot com.

  2. What an awesome post to kick things off! I love the detail re: Grandma shaking every coconut in the market!

  3. Mary says:

    I am a huge fan of hot milk cakes.

  4. Emily revere says:

    OMG!!!!!! I am so humbled AND honored! Who knew this family recipe would be the lead off recipe and story? OMG OMG OMG!

    thank you Wendi. You honor me and the family and all who have family recipes to share. I e-mailed this to mom and she said she will print it and see that Mommy gets the copy.

    She will be pleased I know. She will say what a wonderful collaboration of GREAT MINDS! And I’ll bet you she folds it and puts it inher Bible where she keeps her GOOD STUFF!

    Again, thank you beyond thanks. What better a way to honor those who came before us than to pass down their food!!

    OMG! Mommy is FAMOUS!

    • Wendi says:

      Middle Man, thanks for a different perspective on Food Memories. The kids today don’t know how easy they have it do they?

  5. Barbara says:

    The recipe sounds very nice. The story was fantastic, christmas is my favorite holiday and I’m sure it is because the the very nice memories I have of theat special day. It is to bad that we can not go back to a much simplier time when familey friends and food made Christmas day instead of the presents that everyone wants! Thank you Emily for sharing!

    • Wendi says:

      Barbara, glad you enjoyed that Food Memory. Reading Emily’s story, I felt like I was right there with her.

  6. Kirsten says:

    This is sooooo gooooood! As always, my first thought was to bring some to my mom but she passed over in October. So it looks like one pan is goin into the freezer and the other is gonna make me gain some weight. Apparently this kind of cake will not keep well, except in the freezer.
    My Grams were fantastic cooks too….I miss the women in my family so much. They are all gone now and left me with these crazy men…sigh! Thanks so much for the recipe…

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