This weekend, in a bit of an homage to the mighty Mississippi, I tried my hand at a dessert that has always intrigued me, and until recently, never really appealed to me (I have since learned to embrace nuts in things): Mississippi Mud Cake. I must admit, I was a bit intimidated. I mean, homemade frosting? A jelly roll pan? What if I burn it? Or worse yet, it just turns out a goopy mess of chocolate? Buck up sister. Get busy.
I used a "tried and true" recipe from Southern Living that was, according to the description, worthy of the women of Birmingham's Huffman United Methodist Church. How could I mess that up? (Oh, I can think of a few ways...) The cake ingredients came together in no time. Within another 5 minutes, I was licking the beaters of a creamy, buttery, bowl of decadent chocolate frosting and anticipating the opening of the bag of mini-marshmallows waiting to be melted onto the top of the warm, fudgy cake. After 30 minutes of smelling yumminess coming from my oven, I removed the cake, added the final touches of black and white drizzled goodness onto the cake and closed my eyes, mouth watering in anticipation that it tasted as good as it smelled.
Finally, the moment of truth arrived. The cake was cooled enough to cut and plate. Come to mama.
Oh, praise be to the mighty Mississippi! If that wasn't heaven on a plate, I don't know what would be. From the moment I tasted the first bit of sinful sweetness on my lips, I knew I was going to have to keep these puppies under lock and key. As I cut the cake into squares, I (quite nearly unsuccessfully) resisted the urge to have more than two.
Tasting such baking perfection, I smile and am taken back to the abundant and joyful dinner tables of both my grandmothers. Even though they didn't contain this particular cake, they were full of love and comfort. Just the way I want my dinner table to be. Oh, the mighty, mighty Mississippi.