Ever since Jeremy learned on Saturday that I baked a cake, he has been clamoring to know more about it. “What kind of cake? Does K like it? Can I see a picture?” The questions have been so relentless I’m a little embarrassed for him, especially since he hasn’t been able to do the sensible thing yet and ask me for the recipe. The cake is in fact a family favorite. My mom begs my grandmother to make it for her as often as she drives south, but the recipe did not originate with my grandmother. In fact, it came from Miss Annie Killough, who owned the house my parents rented when I was a kid and my parents were still married. She was an elderly woman when I knew her, who sat in a darkened apartment and, I like to imagine, knitted, though I don’t know that knitting is what she in fact did. Mom would hand-deliver the rent check to her once a month, and I remember playing around behind her platform rocker. My grandmother says that when she got the recipe in 1960, Miss Annie did not give her a temperature to bake the cake at. Instead, Miss Annie told her to “use six sticks of wood.” It is my grandmother’s alterations to the following recipe.

Miss Annie Killough’s Apple Cake

Mix everything together in a bowl, then bake 30–40 minutes at 350ºF.

My grandmother adds that it “cooks best in a greased 8-inch iron skillet,” but it turns out just fine in a regular cake pan. Mom loves to eat it hot out of the oven, especially if she can have it with either butter or ice cream.

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