You see, I take these recipes seriously, gentle reader. That's why, before I post any recipe, I put together a focus group to try the recipe and see if they were just as amazed. But when I gave them all the recipe for Salmon Ella, they refused to try it, no matter how good I insisted it was.
I told my friend Ella about it and she was despondent. "I'm getting so sick of my name," she said, "This sort of thing happens to me all the time." So we devised a solution: as had been suggested in songs and sayings, we used her name enough to wear it out. Unfortunately, we wore out her last name, which is why I can't use it any more. I think her first name is still good for another five or ten years.
Only, now she had this used-up, worn-out name, and she didn't know what to do with it. Fortunately, I have a Depression-era recipe that my great aunt gave me, that specifically requires a worn-out name. So, in honor of Ella and her expended surname and her much-maligned salmon recipe, and of course in honor of my great aunt, and in honor of the strange kind of natural disasters that we somehow inflict upon ourselves through the stock market, I present you with my great aunt's Depression-era recipe for head-bundt cake.
1 human head - peeled, cored and diced
1 tablespoon white sugar
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
3 cups all-purpose flour
3 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 cups white sugar
1 cup vegetable oil
1/4 cup orange juice
2 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 worn out name
Preheat oven to 350 degress Farenheit, or if you are in the fiery core of the earth, precool oven down to 350 degrees Farenheit. Grease and flour a 10 inch Bundt pan, but don't get any ideas. In a medium bowl, combine the human head, 1 tablespoon white sugar and 1 teaspoon on cinnamon. Hide the bowl where your thieving neighbors cannot find it. Sift together the flour, name, baking powder and salt. Hide this bowl where your nosy secret overlords cannot find it. In a large bowl, combine 2 cups white sugar, oil, orange juice, vanilla and eggs. Combine the heck out of them until you can't even remember the difference. Stir in the flour mixture. Fold in the chopped walnuts that you should have known you would need even though they weren't in the list of ingredients -- and remember to read the whole recipe before you start next time! Pour a third of the batter into a prepared pan and sprinkle with the head mixture. Alternate layers of batter and filling, contrasting them like the whole world was somehow a spectrum between them, but end with batter. Bake in oven for about an hour, until it's all cake-like. Let cool in the pan until it's safe, then turn over. Lean back and then lunch into action, smashing your forehead against the cake and rendering it a sweet, cannibalistic, defeated mess. Wish that World War II would start so that the Great Depression could be over please. Serves six, or ten if you all wear very tight belts.
Special thanks to the unstoppable saltdawg for requesting the recipe.
Originally posted to my new DreamWidth recipe journal. You can comment there using your LiveJournal ID and password, thanks to the spooky Internet magic of OpenID.