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Secret Memories

A pink cake recently caught my attention while reading Cooking Light magazine.  The cake looked ‘girly’ and appetizing—pink cake, fluffy white frosting.  My mouth watered. I just knew what that cake tasted like.  But along with a savory memory came an unsavory one.  One that has to do with secret recipes.

You know the one—someone just loves a recipe you make. One that was passed down to you by your father’s great aunt on your cousin’s side. Then made you swear never to reveal the recipe under penalty of death.  That recipe.

Many years ago, my mother-in-law gave me a strawberry cake recipe—a pink cake with fluffy white frosting and asked me not to give the recipe away.  A few years after that, I made it for a party and was asked for the recipe.  I said no, it was given to me on the premise I would not divulge the ingredients.  A dilemma for sure.

Sure, I kept my word but after many years I still feel guilty about not giving the recipe to the only person who ever asked for it.  Being in the food business has opened my mind to the fact there are not new recipes just variations of old ones. And in fact, that special cake recipe can be found on the internet. That special frosting made with flour can be found on the internet.

I met a caterer once who said many people asked for his secret recipe for ?  You can fill in the blanks.  Secret recipe for ribs, cake, drink, whatever.  I had already come to the conclusion that giving a recipe away gave you more goodwill then not.  The caterer and I continued our talk, and I asked him what the point was of keeping it secret.  He replied, ‘it was his special recipe and if everyone made it then it would be a secret or special.’

Sort of true. But then, the one thing I know about myself and others is that generally the recipe will be filed away and never used.  People like to feel like they’re special. I told him that but it didn’t really make a difference to him.

Below is the recipe for strawberry cake that I kept close to the vest for years and beat myself up over for not giving it away.  I haven’t made it in years.

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