Novel Bakery

I, of course, had to try my hand at Black Cake after reading Black Cake by Charmaine Wilkerson.

Benny had just enough time to go through the whole routine and set two black cakes on top of the stove to cool before getting ready for her morning job. She still felt the need to talk to her ma but she didn’t have the courage to try calling her again. This would have to be her message, the cakes. She had taken some photos of the preparation. She would send them to her mother along with a letter. 
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Photo number one: the jar of fruits sitting next to a group of eggs…

Photo number two: the blacking of the sugar. Smoke rising gently out of the pot, the fire turned off just in time, the wooden spoon sticking out of the saucepan. Snap. 

Photo number three: two cake tins filled with batter, each tin sitting in a pan of water in the oven. Snap.

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Photo number four: a closeup of one clack cake cooling on the counter. The color of moist earth, the smell of heaven. Snap. 

Black Cake by Charmaine Wilkerson

Black Cake tells the story of Benny and her brother Byron who are brought together after their mother’s death to listen to a recording of their mother’s life. Their mother, Eleanor, shares the twists and turns of her life, of how she went from the Caribbean to England, to California. Listening to the tragedy and joy of their mother’s life Benny and Byron have to face their own strained relationship. 

This was a beautiful story told from so many different perspectives. I loved how there would be a chapter from a surprise perspective and that was it–we never had that perspective again in the book. It was a story with tragedy but still hope. And I loved that the black cake was almost another character with the influence it had on people’s lives. 

Black Cake was a perfect book for the end of the year.

As I made these candied citrus peels for my own black cake I reflected on how the beginning of a year is so bittersweet.

It’s a time to celebrate the last year and look forward to what’s ahead.

But there’s also a heaviness. The year has passed and can’t be redone. Kids are older. Opportunities may have passed by. Maybe the year ahead feels daunting.

Black Cake beautifully explores the bitter and sweet of life and how they can exist together. The bitterness of family disappointing us against the joy of their love. The bitterness of future plans falling apart amidst the sweetness of unexpected paths.

Here’s to holding space for the bitter and the sweet in this new year.

It was definitely an experience trying to create my own black cake–especially since I don’t drink alcohol and tried to substitute the rum with a concoction of juices. After replicating Benny’s pictures to her mother, I replicated a scene for Benny’s future cafe–though, undoubtedly, her black cake will be much better than mine.

Have you ever had Black Cake before? I would like to try the real thing someday.