Fabulous Fifties German Chocolate Cake

He walks through the door of the boxy pale-blue Levitt ranch house at exactly 6:25 p.m. He hangs his Fedora on the hat stand, sheds his gray flannel suit jacket and slips into a soft, tan cardigan sweater.

“Honey, I’m home,” He intones.

She smoothes her auburn hair, straightens her pearl choker, and pushes through the green swing-door from the kitchen into the dining room carrying a cocktail shaker and glass.

She brushes her perfectly-lined crimson lips against his right cheek. “Hello, Sweetheart! How was your day?”

“It was another tough one,” He groans. “Mr. P in Finance is really after me for that quarterly forecast.”

“Well, you just leave that all behind you,” She purrs reassuringly, running her lacquered fingernails through his sandy flat-top. “Here’s your martini, just the way you like it.”

“You’re so good to me. And, I love your classy chassis,” He says, placing a hand firmly on her left hip.

“You just relax, sweetheart,” She says, leading him to his chair at the head of the dining room table. She places a Pat Boone LP on the turntable and adjusts the volume on the hi-fi.

“We’re eating International tonight,” She announces brightly. “I’ve made Beef Stroganoff, Tomato Aspic, Petite Pois and for dessert, German Chocolate Cake!”

“Honey, I don’t know how you manage to put such a fantastic meal on the table every night, what with keeping house, grocery shopping and community activities?”

“I clipped all of the recipes from the food pages in the newspaper,” She replies. “This menu is called Haute Cuisine.”

He spots the majestic three-layer cake on the side board. It is an impressive creation. “German Chocolate Cake? Is that a European recipe?” He asks.

“I’m sure it must be,” She replies. “According to the newspaper, it’s all the rage. It was a snap for me to whip up after my circle meeting this afternoon. I used a bar of that wonderful Baker’s German’s Brand Sweet Chocolate.”

“What a kick!” He smiles.

“It was simple. I used fresh eggs, Crisco and buttermilk for that special tangy flavor. The filling was so easy, too. Would you believe something this elegant was made from coconut, pecans and Evaporated Milk?”

“Honey, you are the most in the kitchen!”

The meal is exceptional. He enjoys two helpings of the Beef Stroganoff. He takes a bite of the velvety cake and relishes the taste of the mellow chocolate, sweet coconut filling and crunchy pecans. All is right with the world. “Oh, Honey, you’ve outdone yourself. This is unreal!”

“Thank you, Sweetheart.” She smiles. “Now, there’s something I want to ask you.”

“Yes, dear?’

“There’s a job available at Gimbels Department Store at the cosmetics counter. It’s only three days a week, but I’d love to get out the house a bit, and with the extra money, we could buy that new Frigidaire for the kitchen.”

He pauses, his cake fork in midair. A flake of coconut drops to the sleeve of his cardigan sweater, the icing leaving a slight stain.

For just a moment, the grinding of His teeth is almost audible and the tips of his ears color ever-so-slightly. Then He smiles.

“Honey, are you trying to rattle my cage? If you went to work, who would make these wonderful dinners?”

She purses her crimson lips and takes a deep breath. She reaches for the cake knife and grips the handle purposefully. The moment seems like an eternity as she considers her next move.

Why ruin a perfectly good meal with a domestic spat? He would never know if She worked outside the home for just a couple of hours each week. And, it would be fun to have a little pin money. All He really cared about was having homemade cake for dessert. Thank heaven for convenience products. He would never be the wiser if she substituted one of those new Betty Crocker Cake Mixes from time-to-time. It would be easy to pull off.

She smiles brilliantly. It is a dazzling, Pepsodent smile.

“Forget I mentioned it, Sweetheart,” She says, slicing the blade sharply through the layers. “Have another piece of German Chocolate Cake.”

On the hi-fi, Pat Boone is crooning his 1957 chart topper “Don’t Forbid Me” …

Inspired by The Old Foodie.

© 2007 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved