Editor’s note: VDC received this story from longtime VDC reader and retired state police officer and bailiff Wayne Dyer of Groton about the ncomparable chocolate cake cooked by his mother, Eleanor Alice Blackwell Dyer of West Stewartstown, NH (above). It struck a chord, because just last night, I came across another expression of maternal love – my mother Janet Clark Page’s greeting-card painting of a hydrangrea, enclosing a bridal shower gift to my wife.

By Wayne Dyer

July 20th was my mother and her mother’s birthday.

I had been remembering my mother’s chocolate cake for the past few weeks. She made it regularly. It was very dark, very dense and very good. The cookbook the recipe was in was old and had a spiral wire binding. The thick pages were beige with reddish-brown printing. Lots of the pages had spots of ingredients on them. Her chocolate cake recipe was called Black Midnight. She did not need to take the book out to make that cake.

She always used a nine by thirteen pan and applied cooking oil and dusted it with flour. The ingredients went quickly into a big mixing bowl. No low-cholesterol cooking oil for this cake, only the taste and texture mattered. She never measured, didn’t have to and didn’t take the time. The yolks and whites from three eggs were expertly separated using only the two half shells. The whites went into the refrigerator for meringue for the lemon pie we’d have in a day or two. I forget the number of heaping scoops of cocoa.

When all the stuff was generally mixed in the bowl she would pick it up and wrap her left arm around it, hugged it to her body and firmly gripped the edge. She made her wooden spoon beat those ingredients with amazing speed. It took quite awhile for everything to blend but she was relentless with that spoon. Suddenly she was emptying the batter into that cake pan and cleaned the last of the batter out with a scraper. She often reminded us that if we had “Lived through a Depression” we would not waste things like food.

The cake went into the preheated oven just before we sat down for supper. When we finished supper, she got the chocolate cake. It was really hot and never had frosting on it. Right out of the oven, it needed none. The steam would rise as she cut into it and put it on eager plates. Even the smell was delicious. A couple of huge pieces with milk was the only way to enjoy it. With six of us going after that cake we made quite a hole.

I sometimes grabbed another piece before bedtime. If necessary she would put peanut butter frosting on it the next day or so to make sure it was all eaten.

On Mother’s Day we took my in-laws out to a nice restaurant. I took it easy with the appetizers and bread and when I finished dinner and asked for coffee I decided to look at the dessert menu. The first item read, “Wicked Good Chocolate Cake”; I really wanted a piece of chocolate cake. I didn’t order it, though. I would have been disappointed.

Editor’s note: And just because….. photo of Janet Clark Page miniature painting of hydrangea, on bridal shower card to my wife