A few years ago, we invited our new neighbors, Evan and Nora and their two young daughters, to a Mardi Gras parade. I explained our strategy, how we'd arrive early, take up posts at the beginning of the parade route, before the street widened from two lanes to four to six, because at that point teenagers would have formed a bully river, following the floats, yelling, "Moon Pie! Moon Pie! Moon Pie!" and they'd scoop up all the good stuff.
Nora asked, "What do you mean, ‘good stuff'?"
"I mean the candy and the beads, the cups and coins, the moon pies. They don't throw many of those. You'd be very lucky to get one."
She was still confused. "We've never been to a parade where they throw things."
That made no sense to me; I've never been to a parade where they didn't throw things.
On the night of the parade, everything went as planned. Evan and Nora's girls scooped up enough candy and loot to keep them happy for many weeks to come. Once that was accomplished, they headed home. I'm glad they left early, because they missed the embarrassing brawl.
The moon pie hit me almost directly in the right eye, with a loud "smack!" as cellophane met skin. From there it bounced down toward my hands. Inevitably I fumbled it and it fell to the ground at my feet. I reached for it just as another woman reached for it. The crowd moved around us and above us in one joyful, greedy, chaotic mass and the moon pie was kicked from our scrambling fingers.
"It's mine! It's mine! It's mine!" I chanted. She was just as determined or demented. We scuffled on the pavement, searching for the moon pie.
As sparring partners we were ridiculously mismatched. My clenched fists are the size of lemons. My signature wrestling move is The Anvil of Silence. She was two of me, with a street punk's chin jut, hands large enough to snatch me baldheaded with one grab. She had also carelessly left the house with most of her breasts outside of her shirt, which was strangely mesmerizing, which added to her advantage. (Might I add that her skirt was so short she could pee without lifting the hem.)
My husband hauled me up by the back of my coat. "Bell! What the hell are you doing?"
I shook with unexplainable fury and want, "It's mine! They threw it to me!"
With his free hand, he reached down, picked up the moon pie and handed it to the woman. "Here you go. Sorry about that."
She rewarded him with a coy smile, sliced my throat with the blade of her gaze, and bounced away, victorious -- shrieking, "I got a moon pie!"
"It was mine!" I repeated, pointing to the still-throbbing patch near my eye where the moon pie had made contact, marking me as its rightful owner.
He said, "My God! You almost got your ass kicked and you don't even like moon pies!"
He was kind of right. As parade booty they were high-level swag, but in our lunch boxes, they lacked the trade value of a Little Debbie Star Crunch, and a banana-flavored moon pie ranked below a fruit cup. You'd split them open, lick to activate the marshmallow, and stick each half to the underside of the lunch table...Forget all that. They were the only sweet treat my dad would buy us at the store. We'd sit on the curb and finish them off before we went home so my mom wouldn't find crumbs in the car, and he'd tell us stories about his childhood, how he'd save his pennies to get the dime he needed to buy a moon pie and an RC Cola. I bought them for my children, even though they never expressed a hankering.
Those memories are a moon pie, and I'd caught one – or nearly caught one – and dropped it. It seemed a monumental loss, far more serious and portentous than cake and marshmallow.
I felt my husband's kiss on the top of my head. He said, "I'll buy you a moon pie, if you want one." I put my hand in his and let him lead me away from the carnival music, away from the rowdy swarm hollering for cheap candy and worthless trinkets, and by the time we reached the car, I didn't miss that moon pie at all. (But if I ever see that woman again, I will drop The Anvil of Silence, and she'll be sorry she ever messed with me.)
This recipe was a long time in the making. It took a while to get the cake portion right, hints of graham and molasses. I think "moon pie" is a trademarked name so I can't decide what to call it --
Moon Pye Cake or It Really Was Mine Cake (I know. I should let it go.)
The Cake:
½ cup butter, at room temperature
½ cup firmly packed brown sugar
3 Tbs molasses
2 eggs
2 tsp vanilla extract
1 cup cake flour
½ cup fine graham cracker crumbs
1 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
½ cup buttermilk
Preheat your oven to 325. Grease and flour (or use a baking spray) two 8-inch cake pans.
In a small bowl, mix together the cake flour, graham cracker crumbs, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Set aside.
In the bowl of your mixer, cream together the butter, brown sugar and molasses, until fluffy.
Add the eggs and vanilla and beat on medium speed for three minutes.
Alternate adding the flour mixture and the buttermilk, beginning and ending with the flour mixture. The batter will be thick, and will look a little grainy.
Spread half into each of the prepared 8-inch cake pans and bake at 325 for 20-25 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool for 10 minutes and then remove from the pans. Cool completely on a wire rack.
Seven Minute Marshmallow Filling:
2 egg whites
½ cup sugar
1/4 cup light corn syrup
2 Tbsp water
1/4 tsp salt
2 tsp vanilla extract
In a glass bowl over a saucepan of simmering water, combine the egg whites, sugar, corn syrup and salt. With a hand-held mixer at high speed, mix for about seven minutes, until the mixture is very stiff and you think you'll die if you can't shovel it into your mouth right at that moment. Remove from the heat and add the vanilla extract, mixing briefly. Lick the beaters, but do not – do not! – shovel the mixture into your mouth. You need it for the cake.
Chocolate Frosting:
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 Tbsp sugar
1 Tbsp light corn syrup
1 cup good quality semi-sweet chocolate, chopped into chunks
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 Tbsp butter
Heat cream, sugar, and corn syrup to over medium heat, whisking until sugar is dissolved and the mixture is very hot. Remove pan from heat and add the chocolate, whisking until chocolate is melted. Add the vanilla. Cut the butter into small pieces and whisk the pieces in until they are melted. Set aside to cool a bit, but whisk occasionally until the mixture is cool enough to spread like a frosting.
Spread the marshmallow filling between the two cake layers. Hold a little bit back and use small offset spatula to fill in any gaps along the outside so that the cake has smooth sides for frosting.
Spread the chocolate frosting on the sides and top. Cut the slices gingerly, like you would a pie, or a Boston Cream Pie cake. The marshmallow filling is set but not hard. It will squish out if you hack at it. The marshmallow filling will lose volume over time, so once assembled, this cake is best eaten the same day or within two days.
Soon we will celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary. I'll be making this cake for our party. It's a reminder to me of how Mr. Vance hauls me up by the back of the coat whenever I need hauling, how he keeps me from getting my ass kicked, even when I deserve it, and how he knows exactly when to kiss the top of my head and promise me the moon.
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Comments
And that cake looks delish. Makes my mouth water to look at it.
Greenheron -- It is a no brainer. I can't talk about the Anvil of Silence. It only works if you don't talk about it.
Mission -- In the long run only my pride was injured.
Matt -- I don't trot it out very often, but when I do, it's heavy.
Bonnie -- She had a "cut a bitch" look about her. A moon pie ain't nothing worth getting killed over!
Scanner -- It was a pretty shocking match-up. And out of character for me. Embarrassing!
Ann -- They're really good when they're fresh, but they seem to go stale very quickly. Let me know if you make the cake!
Congrats in advance..:)
YUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
rated with hugs
♥
My first moon pie was one of those "huh?" moments. One of those Elvis foods, I thought. But I bet your cake is out of this world.
:: waves to the legendary Mr Vance ::
i'm not promising i'll make the cake, but only because i'm sure i couldn't get the marshmallow past my mouth on its way to the filling location. rated for using " snatch me baldheaded," one of my grandma's favorite expressions.
Rated with all 24 of my fake avatars for use of 'snatch you baldheaded', which is my favorite threat.
Oh! and thanks for the recipe, but maybe, just once, could you just please write something that doesn't make my sides ache and gives me the hiccups? It's an embarrassment to come unglued like this at my computer for no apparent reason.
I want a cookbook from you, too.
I love every word of this. I love your husband too. And the recipe looks Divine...~r xo
I saw her back in the 80's and called her that.
It was the old, "If looks could kill".lol
I wonder what she's doing now.
Probably not laying out in a farm field somewhere behind a cow.lol
rated for a delicious looking cake!
Lezlie
R
I hate moonpies. I hate graham crackers. but I love marshmallow creme and ganache and chocolate cake and I promise I will make this for my grandgirls and then I will tell them about love and kisses on the top of the head.
Linda -- I just wish you could actually eat it! I haven't seen Luluandphoebe around in a while, with her gluten-free deliciousness -- she'd be able to make this edible for you!
Jonathan -- You're a sweetie!
Fusun -- It is, overall, a love story. Could have been a hospital story, or a prison story...I'm glad it didn't veer in that direction!
Dirndl -- I swear they are delicious, but only if they are FRESH. They have short shelf life. After that...you're right. Elvis food.
Boan -- It would be a huge mistake to back me in any physical challenge, but I thank you soooo much for standing there (in theory...you didn't see that woman).
RedNose -- Thanks for reading! I'm glad you enjoyed it!
Deb -- I don't haul out the Anvil very often, but I'm sure most husbands know of it. It's sometimes called the Anchor of Silence or the Brick of Silence or the Cinder Block of Silence. By any name, it's chilly.
Lea -- You're such a flogger! You'd have me over an open flame 24/7! I'm workin....
Catherine -- I cut him a small wedge. He's prepping for a long-haul sail-kayak trip, so I have to make sure he won't sink as soon as he launches! And it is a fairly light cake -- as cakes go.
Bea -- Mobile is hardcore. In Mobile I'd have ended up in the hospital! You don't come between a Mobile bitch and her moon pie.
Femme -- "Imma gone snatch you bawld-dheaded" -- that was the battle cry amongst the cousins.
Kate -- It is funny how many people who dislike moon pies have a certain fondness for them.
Gabby -- Pinball eye and the Anvil of Silence only work if you have an emotional advantage. Without those...I'm out of tricks. Sorry about the unglueing....you know what would glue you back? Marshmallow filling. I'm serious!
Mumble -- Well, don't think I haven't used his Benedicty betrayal against him, even if he did save my vintage beaded sweater from needing a soak in soda water (to remove my blood). I'm married...not checkmated.
Joan -- I don't think they're that bad! Well...maybe. Scrappy is so out of character for me. But it feels good, every now and then, to imagine you *might* could get chest-puffy!
Theresa -- Great idea! Except, I doubt I'd be any more intimidating surrounded by an anvil-shaped foam costume.
Sophieh -- I've never been to a New Orleans Mardi Gras parade, but I'm told you need safety goggles or modesty goggles to protect you from the flesh of your fellow parade goers!
XJS -- Cowpie? Really? I guess I can't throw anything...I sang the "Yippe Yei Yay, Cow Pattie!" song to my friend Patty so many times she defriended me at a time when that was really hard.
Vivian -- Thanks!
FromTheMidwest -- It is good. Not too sweet. Different. Like a Moon Pie!
Mary -- He is a keeper!
Caroline -- I make it a lot during the Mardi Gras season. It beats a vapid King Cake any day.
Sarah -- Sure...Just practice dropping your shoulders and adding lead to your gaze -- like imagine you're staring at Charles Manson as he attempts his foolishness.
Jeremiah -- Aww. Thanks! If you need a recipe for a mustard plaster, just PM me.
Robin -- That's what I figured. Wasn't worth getting killed over. I could always get another (or make another).
Blue -- Happy 17th! That's quite an accomplishment!!
I'm with you, never been to a parade without a bunch of stuff being thrown at the crowd, what would be the point?
Great story, excellent writing.
Flower -- The must have changed the recipe. That's my theory! The Anvil of Silence isn't pretty. By the third hour the dogs start whining.
Felicia -- That's it...I was caught up in the moment. Otherwise I would NEVER have been scrambling in the street for a scrap of graham cake and marshmallow.
Sheila -- I'm afraid the marshmallow would collapse in shipping. Like all the moon pies get squished when people fight over them!
Lezlie -- He save me from a nose job, that's for sure!
Connie -- Glad you enjoyed it! (Wait...the ending was I didn't get a Moon Pie!)
Susan -- They have mini ones now, and much as everyone hates moon pies...they are somehow offended by not getting a full-sized one!
Littlewillie -- I'm not into wrestlers, though my Nannie was! She'd watch the Dothan matches on the TeeVee. I get that breast spillage is naturally ogle-worthy, but this display was...epic.
Grace -- Well you have to eat a moon pie at least once in your life. You simply MUST.
NOLA -- I soooo get it! I wanted that moon pie with primal desire.
Foolish -- You're right. Food is much more than the sum of its parts! Moon pies are such a part of Southern culture that it doesn't matter how they taste. The legend surpasses their food value!
Like a big pizza pie
That's amore
Or is that s'more?
`
Moon Pie in Tuscany?
FF2011's Trip isplanned to go visit Tuscany and the Provence.
He is a chef I met. He's an amazing great cook. He emailed me to say that`
The Chef is Mark Haskill.
He has a Food Vineyard Trip.
Friends and Food International.
e-mail Mark
or,
www.ffii.us? his web/
MkHaskell@aol.us/
I'll be busy. Good/
Mark H. do cook/
too much sweet/
!
Maria -- Thanks for the anniversary wishes!
Scarlett -- He hasn't had to rescue me too often. Usually I behave more decorously!
Jeanette -- I'm glad you liked it.
LC -- Not trademarked. I'm pretty sure my mother invented it.
Tom - A'smore!
Lisa -- That was one of the threats my grandmother made too (jokingly), but it is a very visual threat.
Margaret -- I'd love to try a Ho Ho cake!
Tart -- Yay! Let me know how it goes, it you try it. I always make a recipe at least three times before I post (most of them hundreds of times more than that) and I made this cake five times before I felt comfortable publishing it.
Linda -- I enjoyed writing it. It was a memorable evening.
Dear Reader -- Exactly! The principle! I get trampled on too often. In the end though a moon pie isn't worth getting killed over.
Alysa -- They don't throw things during French parades?? Come to think of it, that does sound ridiculous.
Fernsy -- It was that short. Probably more of a practical concession than a fashionable one? I'd like to think that.
Art -- You're a trip. I always have to read your comments three, four, five ....eleven times. There's always a new treasure to find.
McKenna -- If I had had ANY hope of winning, I might have gone for it. This was a David and Goliath situation and God hates me.
Christine -- I was angry at the time, but it did get funny.
Franish -- Yeah. Seriously. What's the point of a parade where you don't at least get some candy? Why would anyone go?
Aghast -- You have me laughing - you must have quite a spectacular bosom to warrant a whole bag of beads!!! The best thing I ever got was a piece of "shit" made out of spray foam, painted brown and sprinkled with glitter. It was on a string so I got to wear it like a necklace. Now that I think about it, I wonder what they were trying to say...
Lovely cake.
stick them under the tables?! goodness!
"Moon Pie" has been a registered trademark since July 17, 1956. Registration No. 0631012. The mark is owned by Chattanooga Bakery, Inc. It was first used in commerce on 01/01/1917. Listed under Goods & Services; Bakery Products, specifically marshmellow sandwiches and pie.
And they're disgusting.
Happy upcoming Silver Anniversary.
I'd have been dodging those pesky pies like mad---don't like 'em---they're like when particle board gets wet, and they smell like snuff. We occasionally put one on a guest's pillow, just for the hokey of it, and I DID once write about some of the pale colors, photographing them in pretty boxes like macarons and calling them Tartes de Lune, but you SURE know how to moon over a pie.
Wonder if you could frisbee the halves hard enough to stick them to the Girls' Room ceiling like wet paper?
says rachel, who has a pretty fine coat-hauler and head-kisser of her own
George -- I wish I'd known the "Tennessee Possum Stomp"!! Then I might have had a chance at beating her!
hugs -- I wouldn't want to cross you. Your hugs are really really powerful.
Stim -- "Disgusting" is too strong a word. I'd endorse "regional peculiarity." Even with brass knuckles and pepper spray I wouldn't have been a match for her bosom and Cookie-Monster desire for the moonpie.
Rachel -- OMG! They DO smell like snuff! I had never put that smell with them before...but they do!! I'm glad you have a coat-hauler and a head-kisser. They're invaluable.
Caroline -- Do they have Moon Pies in NYC? Or are they just fancy NYC Moon Pies?? I'm skeptical...but if I ever get up your way I'll take you up on it! (Son Vance is headed your way next weekend! He'll be the goaty-smelling boy wearing squall-weather sailing overalls and looking overwhelmed. If you see him, PM me.
Byron -- There is something strange about the scramble for treats we'd never look twice at if they weren't being thrown from a gaudy float. But...those beads! Those cups! Those moon pies!! Want!
Geezer - My pride is still smarting. Pride = 7/8's of what it was prior to the encounter. I don't guess I'll ever get that back. Maybe I don't deserve it back.