shortcake

Father’s Day in our house is weird, as the both my Dad and my children’s Dad are no longer with us. We are in this mode for a few years now so the sting isn’t as strong but it is for sure not the big family get together so many people we know celebrate. Add to it Covid and sheltering at home. Add to it the world being angry and unfolding. Things just look really really different this year.

I have been pondering the many father figures throughout my life and those who have impacted my children’s lives. It’s the everyday things that have touched my heart as a mom that I’ve centered on. Like the one time when things were rougher , a family friend ventured way out onto the sand bars with my son to talk and just see how far out they could go. Or the one who volunteered every year to bring my daughter to the Father/Daughter dance. The coaches and teachers who have stepped up to practice or check in, the friends who have given advice or just asked the questions. It is a reminder that in a time of isolation, we are not and have never been alone.

So many reasons to grieve on Father’s Day for some. For those who never knew their Dad, or for those who did and it was a disappointment. For those who were lucky to have a wonderful father taken away too soon, or those who have a Dad with them now but wait while sickness is a slowly fought battle. It’s this life, this beautiful heart breaking life, that makes us or destroys us, and kind of transcends all of the other things. We all have fathers. We all come from some family story.

My Dad was not a berry picker. He was however, a fan of strawberry shortcake. I have never really chosen this as my ideal dessert, it’s a dry biscuit to juicy berry and whipped cream thing. I haven’t loved it. However, my brain got to thinking…could we make this better?

This year I wondered if there would be berry picking, so many things are slowly opening up and when they do…it all looks different. I understand the reasons and I am a mask wearer social distance pro, soap and sanitizer freak. But berry picking, if at all possible, is a go out in the field isolated event. So when I heard my local farm was allowing you pick, I was there. Early. With the rest of the weirdos who like that thing. It was glorious.

I was listening to the people around me. The older women speaking in another language. The two friends talking about their grown children, families with little ones shouting “I found the perfect strawberry!” It was wonderful. Now, I understand that to MANY the idea of kneeling in the hay picking berries in the early morning sun may seem like a horrible task…but for me, I’m pretty happy in that scene. I’ve embraced it. Even flying solo, there is a peaceful rhythm to it all.

A flat of berries and two batches of freezer jam later, I still had berries. So, shortcake it is.

Only…

What if I took an angel food cake recipe and then made the berries darker and boozier?

Angel food cake is easy to make. It’s egg whites whipped until stiff peaks form and then sifted dry ingredients are folded in. The mixer does most of the work. For a Schitt’s Creek fan, the phrase “fold in the cheese” comes to mind. You gently fold in flour and sugar that’s been sifted several times to be light and fluffy and bake.

The berries are simply mixed with brown sugar and bourbon and left alone. When you are ready, slice the cake, spoon the berry mixture on top, and if you like whipped cream, add it. I would like to say I made homemade whipped cream for this. I did not. Hey, I made the cake. I also like mine without. But if I did make the whipped cream, I would be adding maybe a little of the same bourbon to that, because I can.

My Dad loved Angel Food Cake. We haven’t had it since before he passed, and it was a treat to spend Father’s Day thinking of him, using his mixer, and assembling something I think he would have enjoyed.

We don’t get to chose our Dads. If we are lucky, we get a good one. If we aren’t, we get to decide what we do with the hurt that comes along with it. We get to decide how we raise our children, whether it be similarly or vastly different. We get to choose the next part of our story. We get to map out the next steps, even if we don’t see the whole path ahead.

Friends, I wish you light and love today. For those who have been hurting and broken, I feel you. I have been more humbled and fragmented lately than ever, but the best way. The kind where you realize all the stuff you didn’t know and work on doing the right thing. The place where you unearth the junk and figure it out. Which is hard stuff. But, if we are going to be home with our thoughts for say months on end, we might as well do the hard work, right?

So get to cracking those eggs and separating out the whites. Put your mixer on, sift and fold. And then, slice a big piece of heaven and cover it with sweet berries. It’s a beautiful thing. It really is. And if for some reason you decide to eat leftovers fro breakfast, that’s totally okay too. Fruit, egg whites…it’s all good.

I hope you enjoy this recipe, and as always, thank you for coming to the table.

Love, Chrissy

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