Seven Cakes – Though Dirt Poor, They Had Cake For Christmas

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Life during the depression in rural Alabama wasn’t too different from any other time of year for my people. You see, they were sharecroppers – dirt farmers who didn’t even own their own dirt. They wouldn’t have known if the world had been prosperous, their lives had always been a struggle of hard work and all too often relying on hope for the next meal.

This time of year, there wasn’t a whole lot to be thankful for, other than the fact that there wasn’t any cotton to pick. For them, winter was as bleak as the Alabama landscape. In Alabama, we are not often afforded the sight of glistening snow resting atop hills and trees in a winter wonderland. Here, the sky just gets gray and the landscape browns – bare trees, brown grass, and muddy earth where fields lay in wait for spring as far as the eye can see.

My great grandmother had four children and they all lived in a small shack house. Wood was a precious thing and that meant only heating one room. My grandmamma says “it got so cold at night. Mama would heat rocks and wrap ‘em up in old towels and things to put in bed with us but we still got so cold. You didn’t dare get out of that bed unless you just had to”.

Families would work all year for the farmer in exchange for monthly rations of staples such as dried beans, flour, and the occasional bit of meat. At harvest’s end they’d get a percentage of profits on the cotton, but all of the staples which had been provided for them were then deducted from the final cost, leaving families in a continued state of dependence upon the farm owner for enough food to survive the winter.

But with winter came Christmas, and my great grandmother always did manage to make it special despite their hardships. Lela’s life had always been a hard one. Growing up one of nine children in Jackson County, she had spent her childhood traveling from farm to farm with her parents and siblings, picking cotton and tending to whatever crops the farm owner decided to plant. Now she had four kids to provide a Christmas for and keeping them fed and clothed took about all she had and then some.

But she never failed them. She always came through, especially at Christmastime.

Lela squirreled away ingredients all year long. A little sugar here, some dried apples there, maybe some raisins and a bit of cinnamon. After the kids went to bed on Christmas Eve, she’d set to work. Using only what she had on hand and no recipes to speak of, Lela would stay awake all night baking cakes in her little wood stove. She’d make an apple stack cake, a raisin cake, yellow cake with chocolate icing, peanut butter cake, and so on. There was never a plan beyond that of needing to make seven of them – one for each day from Christmas until the New Year.

The next morning, four sets of eyes would open wide and four sets of feet would hurry out of their cold beds into the only heated room in the house where their faces would light up at seeing the bounty of seven cakes sitting on the worn kitchen table. I know how their faces looked because my grandmother’s still lights up the same way now, some seventy years later, when she talks about those cakes. The kids took turns being the one to choose the cake they ate that day and between the six of them and any company who happened by, they made short work of it and were ready to start with a new one the next morning.

Most kids today would consider having cakes baked for you as your only Christmas gift to be a disappointment. But amid all of the wrappings and bows, gift sets and feasts, I hope your Christmas somehow manages to be as magical as it was in that little sharecroppers house in Alabama during the depression, when four kids woke up with stars in their eyes at finding seven cakes.

Gratefully,
Christy

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430 Comments

  1. Thank you for sharing your story. It wasn’t so much that we were poor, although we were, only our mother and stepfather were alcoholics. I do not know what starvation is only many, many times I was hungry for lack of food. Lived in many run-down homes and one room shack from May thru Mid-Nov. No heat, inside plumbing, nor windows.

    The adults slept in the only bed and the children (6) on the floor. Many times the only thing we had to eat was the potatoes my oldest brother brought home from the Potato Farm where he worked. I never told a soul until into my late 50’s that I (at age 7) would sneak into our neighbor’s gardens to steal the fresh vegetables… then take them to a secluded spot and eat until was sick. Not once, ever again did I ever take anything like that again. Ever. I knew in my heart that it was wrong and vowed if I ever had children they would never be hungry.

    Fast forward to a better life. After my high school graduation I married a wonderful man that not only loved me, he was a good provider. The family (two adults and three children) never went hungry. God blessed me with the desire to learn how to cook.

    I am now into my 70’s and down to one again. My husband passed on; our children are grown and on their own. I have nine grandchildren and two great grandchildren. Please know, I so enjoy your Blog “Southern Plate” ~ thank you. Merry Christmas to Everyone.

    Reply

    3. Dear Kathleen,

      I have seven fruit trees and many many times people have picked from them and I’ve always been glad to see it happen as I figure they will use it. So I’ll say on behalf of whomever had that garden they’d likely be glad to see a little girl get nutrition from their labor. I know I would and that’s why I’ve never thought anything about people helping themselves to my fruit.

      And I’m glad to see you were able to break the painful pattern of your childhood. Proud of you here!

      Reply

  2. Beautiful story from the heart. Thank you for sharing this and the 7 cake recipes. I will think of them when I make them. God bless you and yours!

    Reply

      1. What An Amazing Story, There Were Nine Of Us & We Didn’t Have A Lot, But We Had Christian Parents, Our Daddy Was Our Preacher. But The Lord Always Blessed Us & He Still Does Today. We Have Lost Our Daddy, Mama, Three Of Our Brothers, My Only Sister & My Husband, But I Tell Others That We Didn’t Loose Them, They Were Saved & Ready To Go, That They Just Beat Us Home. Ms Christy, I Hope You & Your Family Has A Very Blessed Christmas & a Safe New Years. God Bless. Judy Conaway Dent

        Merry Christmas Everyone.

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      2. Christy, look forward to your blog every day. You have such interesting stories, recipes and family happenings. I feel that I’m starting to know you. I wish you a very Blessed Christmas. Betty

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    2. Thank you for sharing your stories and recipes with us all year long. Iay live in Colorado now, but I did spend 2 years in L.A. (lower Alabama) lol! Merry Christmas!

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    3. What a beautiful memory. The true Christmas revealed. It is not the gifts or competition to get the best or most, but the love. Love we should display everyday and help others not so fortunate. Thanks for sharing & making me feel the love. No money but better. Can not be bought. Harder life & no luxury, but happier. I have seen this many times here & in Mexico when my husband when alive, we rode motorcycles throughout Mexico, all the way down to Campeche. The rural areas, no running water, cardboard houses, they were the happiest. They always welcomed us into their houses to rest & eat. They shared what they had, very little & always with love. Love the memories. Thank You!

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    4. My mother is now 98 and grew up during the depression in West Virginia. She can remember that during the summer the only food they had was from an apple tree and tomato plants. I’m sure her Christmas was much like your great grandmother’s. That is truly what the season is about. How I wish we did away with all this commercialism and we just had a quiet, faith filled holiday with family and friends.

      Reply

  6. Christy I found your site about a year ago and cannot believe it took so long. What I missed, especially this story! SO much of what you write about resonates with me. Just today I read about the seven minute icing. Do all little Southern girls grow up having it on their birthday cakes? (In my case it was dyed pink, my favorite color). Anyway, I enjoyed the 7 cakes story so much. What loving mother can’t relate? You can SEE the love right there in the photo. Makes you want to jump in just for a visit. People do NOT know how to do that anymore. Our aunts, uncles and grandparents knew how to tell a story and taught you how to slow down in doing so. I firmly believe that those old quilting bees should be brought back just for this alone. Then we’d all know how to do things better, how to learn from each other, how to VISIT again. Thank you for blessing me with your wonderful blog. Your friend Becky

    Reply

  7. Luv your story. My mom made a fruit cocktail cake that I remember as wonderful. I am going to try yours. Hopefully will be JUST LIKE MOM’S. Thank you.

    Reply

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