This time of year, our thoughts go back to making friedcakes on the opening day of pheasant season. Back when pheasants were plentiful, hunters in cameoflage jackets and canvas vests lined with pockets to store their bullets, traipsed in and out the back door to sign in on dad’s clipboard. After the hunt, they’d stop back to report in, show off their game, if they'd been lucky, and get a friedcake, warm from the fryer and glazed with frosting.
Betty Crocker called them cake donuts but Mother called them friedcakes, so friedcakes they were.
Last year was the first in many that we decided to bring Grandma's old Presto deep fryer up from the basement and continue the tradition. I found Mother's recipe with her penciled-in notes still legible. We were rusty and had a few laughs, but we'll try again this year because it's fun and they are delicious.
If you want the recipe, send me a message and I'd be happy to share it.
Writing this, I can't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia. What beautiful birds those ringnecks were. Sometimes we hear their truncated chortle, the two-note song, but seldom see them anymore.
4 comments:
What a heart-warming, mouth-watering post today! At first glance I thought you wrote "fruitcakes" and I was ready to tell you mine is going into the oven today. Later than I would have liked, but there nonetheless. And my family/I enjoy it so so much. All rum soaked and yummy.
Hi Helen! Thanks. Yes I think "friedcakes" is peculiar to our peculiar family! I should make fruitcake this year. I usually do it every 3 years or so but you're right...it should've been done last month to be good by Christmas. I've kept one of those soaked in rum in the fridge for over 3 years and I swear to God it just gets better and better!
Great tradition. Warm fried cakes and warm smiles.
Thanks Vanessa!
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