The Hummingbird Cake

Katie M. Robinson

When my Southern Living magazine came in the mail recently, I was excited. The excitement was ignited by the picture of two things I admire combined as one: a hummingbird cake on the cover. I love to watch hummingbirds hover, feed and zip through the air. From time to time I also enjoy eating a moist and tasty cake. Well, I’d never baked or eaten a piece of hummingbird cake, but I was immediately motivated to bake it. After a long wait, the birds had finally returned to my birdfeeders and backyard. For months, in fact longer than I could remember in my bird-loving years, had I not seen different species of birds, swoop, sing, sometimes quarrel and gorge themselves at the feeders. The squirrels and rabbits had followed suit. Baking the cake would be a celebration for their return. I had become concerned that perhaps a large sign in my yard, invisible to me read, “This yard is off limits to wildlife.”

The subscription to Southern Living has nothing to do with my love of cooking. You see, I dislike cooking with the same fervor as my love for birds. Pictures of scrumptious looking food cause me to make false promises. “Oh, this looks delicious. I think I’ll try making it,” I say to myself. These promises are usually abandoned when I go on the “hunt” for the ingredients. If the recipe calls for anything more than salt and pepper, this “hunt” can become a loathsome chore. Frustration mounts when finding all of the needed items doesn’t come easily. It reaches its peak when I go in search for a store attendant for assistance. I am left more confused by the quick and rapid response than I was before I asked for assistance. My instinct is to find the young worker again and say, “I am a senior citizen in case you haven’t noticed. I don’t process fast talking well. Please speak more slowly.” That, of course, would be too embarrassing. Paying for my groceries without the needed ingredients is not. Not having the needed ingredients becomes the legitimate excuse for not making the recipe. Although I occasionally use decorative ideas from the magazine to brighten one of my rooms or my porch, truth be told, the most important reason for subscribing to the magazine is to read Rick Bragg’s essays.

How did a senior citizen, the oldest of eleven children, who grew up on a farm in an era when cooking was most definitely considered women’s work, come to have an aversion for cooking? Here again, truth be told, I do believe my dislike is part of my DNA. I only cooked when I wasn’t able to swap it out with one of my sisters for another chore. I preferred cleaning. Part of that cleaning included mowing the front yard with a roller blade lawn mower and sweeping the back with a hand-made broom. Ironing wasn’t exactly a favorite because I had to make sure there were no “cat faces” (wrinkles) left in the heavily starched shirts and khaki pants. Nevertheless, I preferred it to cooking. My fondness for cows probably endeared me to milking. The cow Daddy “gave” me will always be a part of a loving memory of him. Another reason for my aversion to cooking is that it came under the category of never-ending. There was no reprieve; it had to be repeated every day, sometimes three times a day. I did learn to cook; I just never learned to like it.

One of my friends, who is an excellent adventurous cook, offered to help me bake the hummingbird cake. I agreed, although it didn’t take her long to detect my lack of enthusiasm once I read the recipe carefully. Instead of coaxing me to do it, she baked the hummingbird cupcakes and shared. Satisfaction achieved. The greatest satisfaction for me will come when the hummingbirds quench their thirst at the feeder and help to usher in spring with all of their agility and beauty.

Katie M. Robinson is a previous contributor to The Readers Write.

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