The first time I ever had one of Wilma Dean Jacobs’ cakes, I was a boy. I was redheaded. I was chubby. I was a connoisseur of refined sugar products. In our town, there was only one place that sold Miss Dean’s seven-layer cakes. It was the little gas-station convenience store up the street from my house. The Happy Store.
I love this!. My wife and I live in The Shoals in northwest Alabama, and on a recent trip home from Panama City, we stopped at a convenience store/gas station in Andalusia.
As I pumped gas, Miss M went inside and came out carrying a slice of Mrs. Dean's seven-layer caramel cake.
We sat there in the Shell parking lot and sharing one plastic fork, ate this mouth-watering morsel of goodness,. I may have even licked up the crumbs.
My wife is a cook. A country chef or whatever you call it, but she can cook, and she can cook cakes. I asked her to cook a friend of mine at work a pound cake because he loved pound cakes. She said she would cook one, but he would only get half because someone at her work also wanted a cake. When I took the cake to work and gave it to my friend, he put it in his desk and locked it up. His wife told me later he would wait till everyone went to bed then have a piece of cake. He did this for a week till it was gone. He made a mistake on the last piece and left crumbs on the counter. He finally told the truth but the cake was gone. People would ask what was so special about a Pound Cake and I will say this my wife doesn't bake just a pound cake. It has other things in it that makes it special.
Reminds me of my ma-in-law's bourbon-laced pound cakes. She told a story about her tee-totalling college co-op student that stayed at their house while in school at UNA who got hold of one of those cakes upon arriving after class one afternoon. He had no idea of the contents. It was so good, he couldn't stop. By the time she got home, she swore he was snokered.
My mom's pecan pie; Mrs. Jergins' butter rolls; my grandmother's fried chicken and mashed potatoes; all good memories. Fortunately, my mom is still around and still making pecan pies for special occasions. Those good dishes bring back such good times.
No one around here liked pecan pie. My wife would make them for me till one day her daughters decided to have a bite. That ended my time alone eating pecan pie.
Sean, your story today came to life, full of so many details of small town living in the South. From riding your bike up the street to the gas station convenience store, and hauling home a Wilma Dean Jacob’s cake secured by bungee cords? Plus all the colorful details in between. Such a fun read!
My biggest chuckle was over your regional family trees that you call “Family Briar Patches”…you can’t get any more Southern than “Brer Rabbit”❣️
We miss the bakers who leave us. And somehow, even if we have the recipe, it never tastes the same as the original baker's cakes, cookies or whatever. My mom made the best oatmeal cookies ever. Yes, I have her recipe, but when I make the cookies they just don't taste the same. Has the butter flavor changed? Are the oats different? I don't know, but maybe it's just we enjoyed eating things that we didn't make. Your food stories, Sean, always makes one's taste buds drool just a tiny bit!
For sure. I just spent almost two hours baking what I consider the best oatmeal cookies ever. Yes even better than my mom's. It's a very complicated recipe from a cookbook that was not available in my mom's day. It's really a two-person recipe. I'm doing the combining of ingredients often only a couple at a time, with my husband reading them to me, because at one point at least, an ingredient has to be put in while you're still beating the last ingredients together. The cookies are full of butter and oats, with other stuff, too. I love crispy cookies and these are the crispiest ever. I'm taking them to an event saying farewell to our church pastor, who has been transferred. Yes, it's a big giant potluck. I ate very little breakfast in anticipation of a feast! Whee! I'm also the official photographer for the event. :-)
Actually, I came home with 3. They are huge and I think that turns people off, so we benefitted at home. We split one of the big ones for dessert tonight. yummy!
We had a delightful lady in our town who made amazing caramel cakes. Miss Mae is who you called when you needed one. They were always perfect, always ready when you needed one. The taste always reminded me of my grandma's smile.
It's funny how the death of an elderly person brings back childhood memories. Wilma Dean made cakes. My Aunt Maggie (real name was Olive) collected bells. While visiting her in her tiny apartment in Gettysburg, SD, when I was a teenager, she gave me one of her bells. She was "downsizing," she said. So when she died at age 101, what first entered my mind? The time she gave me the bell, of course! And every time I look at it on my knick knack shelf now, I think of her. Too bad you couldn't bronze one of Wilma Dean's special cakes! :-)
Here in north Florida you can find a 12 layer Mayhaw Jelly cake at a locally owned farm store.
But multi layer Carmel cakes only show up at church’s “dinner on the grounds”. Funny thing most people get their dessert first when they spy that beautiful specimen on the dessert table. 🥮
You really painted a picture with your words today, Sean, and I loved every bit of it! It brought back memories of my mother-in-law’s seven-layer cake. She was from Pleasant Home, Alabama, right outside Andalusia, and hers was a yellow cake with chocolate icing. Makes my mouth water just thinking about it. Makes me miss her, too. She was quite a lady.
I've always had a bone of contention about a "7-layer" (or 10-layer, but that's truly ambitious) chocolate cake. It's not chocolate. No, no, it's a 7-layer vanilla cake with a little chocolate smeared on it - but who would get excited about that? So whoever baked the first one fudged (literally and figuratively!) the name!
Well now I’m depressed. I never even heard of Wilma Dean or her cakes. :-( How on earth did this happen? Oh wait. I know what it probably was. Nothing from a store was ever as good as what was already at home. “You don’t need to buy that. We’ve got such-and-such at home.” Every blessed time. Sure hope Ms. Dean left someone the recipe because when I get there I’m going to be looking for that glorious cake.
It’s a wacky whacky world. Folks we love die. Loved ones lose precious body parts. We miss special pieces of our younger years. First we’re hit by a dump truck. Then a bus. Next whacked by a freight train. But when we’ve loved, we’re loved too. It’s the good in us that gets us through. It’s seeing a beautiful young girl jump off the high dive without a clue where the water is. She only knows because she has loving help. It’s seeing a flower grow and blossom and a lovely little cloud bringing us some soothing relief from the heat and wacky whacky wounds from a freight train. ❤️
Wonderful article. I laughed when I read about all the special occasions, such as parole release. I've also "experienced" Miss Dean's layered caramel cakes. Watching them all made by hand. We are blessed to be from the south, and to get to ride through Andalusia is just one example. God can turn any experience into a blessing. Thank you for the memories, Sean. I'm praying for Becca.
Sean, I had no idea Miss Dean passed away! I’ve bought several of her caramel layer cakes. Sometimes I’d buy the half cake so you could see the layers! A chevron station in Greenville.
I love this!. My wife and I live in The Shoals in northwest Alabama, and on a recent trip home from Panama City, we stopped at a convenience store/gas station in Andalusia.
As I pumped gas, Miss M went inside and came out carrying a slice of Mrs. Dean's seven-layer caramel cake.
We sat there in the Shell parking lot and sharing one plastic fork, ate this mouth-watering morsel of goodness,. I may have even licked up the crumbs.
Great gas stop story….love it! Aren’t the crumbs a treat?
Yes they are
Love the Shoals and Jungle Jitney!
My wife is a cook. A country chef or whatever you call it, but she can cook, and she can cook cakes. I asked her to cook a friend of mine at work a pound cake because he loved pound cakes. She said she would cook one, but he would only get half because someone at her work also wanted a cake. When I took the cake to work and gave it to my friend, he put it in his desk and locked it up. His wife told me later he would wait till everyone went to bed then have a piece of cake. He did this for a week till it was gone. He made a mistake on the last piece and left crumbs on the counter. He finally told the truth but the cake was gone. People would ask what was so special about a Pound Cake and I will say this my wife doesn't bake just a pound cake. It has other things in it that makes it special.
Rum cakes are pretty tasty.
(But will they lead to Danse'-in, Lander?!)
Oh, they could lead to all kinds of dangerous, wild activity that just might add to the fun.
Reminds me of my ma-in-law's bourbon-laced pound cakes. She told a story about her tee-totalling college co-op student that stayed at their house while in school at UNA who got hold of one of those cakes upon arriving after class one afternoon. He had no idea of the contents. It was so good, he couldn't stop. By the time she got home, she swore he was snokered.
My mom's pecan pie; Mrs. Jergins' butter rolls; my grandmother's fried chicken and mashed potatoes; all good memories. Fortunately, my mom is still around and still making pecan pies for special occasions. Those good dishes bring back such good times.
No one around here liked pecan pie. My wife would make them for me till one day her daughters decided to have a bite. That ended my time alone eating pecan pie.
Oh, tough thing having to share pecan pie. But, if more people like them, all the reason to bake more of them.
Yes they do! One of the best memories are those special dishes made by special people in our lives!!
Sean, your story today came to life, full of so many details of small town living in the South. From riding your bike up the street to the gas station convenience store, and hauling home a Wilma Dean Jacob’s cake secured by bungee cords? Plus all the colorful details in between. Such a fun read!
My biggest chuckle was over your regional family trees that you call “Family Briar Patches”…you can’t get any more Southern than “Brer Rabbit”❣️
Funny! Ol Brer Rabbit……
We miss the bakers who leave us. And somehow, even if we have the recipe, it never tastes the same as the original baker's cakes, cookies or whatever. My mom made the best oatmeal cookies ever. Yes, I have her recipe, but when I make the cookies they just don't taste the same. Has the butter flavor changed? Are the oats different? I don't know, but maybe it's just we enjoyed eating things that we didn't make. Your food stories, Sean, always makes one's taste buds drool just a tiny bit!
There truly is an art to good cooking/baking!
For sure. I just spent almost two hours baking what I consider the best oatmeal cookies ever. Yes even better than my mom's. It's a very complicated recipe from a cookbook that was not available in my mom's day. It's really a two-person recipe. I'm doing the combining of ingredients often only a couple at a time, with my husband reading them to me, because at one point at least, an ingredient has to be put in while you're still beating the last ingredients together. The cookies are full of butter and oats, with other stuff, too. I love crispy cookies and these are the crispiest ever. I'm taking them to an event saying farewell to our church pastor, who has been transferred. Yes, it's a big giant potluck. I ate very little breakfast in anticipation of a feast! Whee! I'm also the official photographer for the event. :-)
Ooooooooo…….I, too, like the crispier cookies! Your oatmeal cookies sound like a blue ribbon treat! You will be bringing home a clean platter!
Actually, I came home with 3. They are huge and I think that turns people off, so we benefitted at home. We split one of the big ones for dessert tonight. yummy!
Only 3? Still a good sign that they were de-lish!
We had a delightful lady in our town who made amazing caramel cakes. Miss Mae is who you called when you needed one. They were always perfect, always ready when you needed one. The taste always reminded me of my grandma's smile.
My grandma’s smile…..love that ending!
It's funny how the death of an elderly person brings back childhood memories. Wilma Dean made cakes. My Aunt Maggie (real name was Olive) collected bells. While visiting her in her tiny apartment in Gettysburg, SD, when I was a teenager, she gave me one of her bells. She was "downsizing," she said. So when she died at age 101, what first entered my mind? The time she gave me the bell, of course! And every time I look at it on my knick knack shelf now, I think of her. Too bad you couldn't bronze one of Wilma Dean's special cakes! :-)
Nothing better than a sweet seven layer memory.
Here in north Florida you can find a 12 layer Mayhaw Jelly cake at a locally owned farm store.
But multi layer Carmel cakes only show up at church’s “dinner on the grounds”. Funny thing most people get their dessert first when they spy that beautiful specimen on the dessert table. 🥮
Still praying for our Becca
Good desserts will always leave the table first! Praying also for Becca…..
You really can't have "too many" bungee cords.
Just like you can't have too much duct tape or WD-40.
You really painted a picture with your words today, Sean, and I loved every bit of it! It brought back memories of my mother-in-law’s seven-layer cake. She was from Pleasant Home, Alabama, right outside Andalusia, and hers was a yellow cake with chocolate icing. Makes my mouth water just thinking about it. Makes me miss her, too. She was quite a lady.
ST dT sounds "Down Home" good. Dat dere caramel is too sweet"
Pubert Earle
I've always had a bone of contention about a "7-layer" (or 10-layer, but that's truly ambitious) chocolate cake. It's not chocolate. No, no, it's a 7-layer vanilla cake with a little chocolate smeared on it - but who would get excited about that? So whoever baked the first one fudged (literally and figuratively!) the name!
RIP Miss Dean, caramel cake is truly a labor of Southern Love. Pecan pie is my #1 and caramel cake close second.
Peace and Love to All from Birmingham.✝️💜🥮🇺🇸
Well now I’m depressed. I never even heard of Wilma Dean or her cakes. :-( How on earth did this happen? Oh wait. I know what it probably was. Nothing from a store was ever as good as what was already at home. “You don’t need to buy that. We’ve got such-and-such at home.” Every blessed time. Sure hope Ms. Dean left someone the recipe because when I get there I’m going to be looking for that glorious cake.
M209- don't faint- dey still makes em!
Pu
Praise the Lord and say Hallelujah 🙌🏻 I’m so excited!! Thank you! 🥰
Hi Sean,
It’s a wacky whacky world. Folks we love die. Loved ones lose precious body parts. We miss special pieces of our younger years. First we’re hit by a dump truck. Then a bus. Next whacked by a freight train. But when we’ve loved, we’re loved too. It’s the good in us that gets us through. It’s seeing a beautiful young girl jump off the high dive without a clue where the water is. She only knows because she has loving help. It’s seeing a flower grow and blossom and a lovely little cloud bringing us some soothing relief from the heat and wacky whacky wounds from a freight train. ❤️
Wonderful article. I laughed when I read about all the special occasions, such as parole release. I've also "experienced" Miss Dean's layered caramel cakes. Watching them all made by hand. We are blessed to be from the south, and to get to ride through Andalusia is just one example. God can turn any experience into a blessing. Thank you for the memories, Sean. I'm praying for Becca.
Rest in Peace, Ms. Dean…Thanks for all the deliciousness and the memories your creations made.
Sean, I had no idea Miss Dean passed away! I’ve bought several of her caramel layer cakes. Sometimes I’d buy the half cake so you could see the layers! A chevron station in Greenville.
That’s a beautiful image, isn’t it?
Whar' dat PM?
Peb
Where the heck have you been Peb? Haven’t seen you on here in a while! Missed ya!
Peb,
Driving north on I-65 it’s the 2nd exit, right at the light, go through light and it’s on the left. Also, the station right by Bates House of Turkey!