Toasted almond shortbread cake
There’s a crow in my backyard making the strangest noises: throaty, urgent, with just an edge of rudeness. They’ve been all around my house all day, these crows, calling to each other, calling to me, trying to tell me something. It’s not just what they’re saying, either, it’s the way they fly as well, it feels studied, with a pattern and a purpose. It’s quite dramatic and beautiful. And it’s all around my house, circling my world. Of course, once I ventured outside of my house, beyond my block, I realize that they’re all over town behaving strangely, these crows. It’s spring, they’re in a tizzy. But as long as I’m sitting in my own home, searching for meaning everywhere, it feels as thought they’re speaking just to me. I passed a man on the way to school today who was talking to some friends in a truck idling in front of his house. He said that every morning, when he steps onto his porch, he sees the vulture who is nesting in the abandoned house next door, and the vulture is staring down at him, watching his every move. It doesn’t bode well for his day, he fears. I’ve been studying the calls and flight patterns of birds, lately, because I’m applying for an exciting new job. I want to be an augur. It’s a stressful job, I know, with a lot of responsibility, but I feel up for the task. My duties, as an augur, will involve studying the flight paths of birds, listening to how they sing or call, identifying patterns and directions, determining the kind of bird, and whether it flies in a group or alone. If a flock of birds takes into the air all at once, in a confusion of movement, in certain waves, with small sure speed, like an explosion of fireworks, I will know what this means. If a lone bird soars far above the clouds in great lazy circles, I will understand what that bird is telling me, because I will take the auspices. I will decide what is auspicious. Of course the job of an augur is not to determine the future, but to decide if a path already begun upon is the right path to take, if a plan of action is pleasing to the gods. And the gods show us this on the wings of birds, the delicate, powerful, inexplicable, beautiful wings of birds. And this is where I think I would shine as an augur. Because I always think birds are beautiful, I love all of their calls and songs, I love the birds with dusky feathers as well as those with jewel-like plumage. I admire vultures and revere crows, practically anything a bird can do seems like a happy portent to me, except maybe flying into a window. So if you want some good news, you want to feel hopeful about a project you’ve started or a journey you’re taking, come to me. I will read your auspices, I will watch the birds busy in you back yard, feeding in your garden or floating dreamily high above your house, and I will find encouraging signs there.
Toasted almond shortbread cake
This cake was inspired by memories of a good humor toasted almond bar. It has a simple, shortbread like base, with chocolate chips, of course! And it’s topped with a crunchy almond crumb.
Here’s Flying Birds by the RZA
1 stick butter, softened
1 cup white sugar
2 t vanilla
1 1/2 cups flour
1 t. baking powder
1/2 t salt
1 cup chocolate chips
! cup sliced toasted almonds
3 T butter
1/2 cup powdered sugar
1 T flour
1 t almond essence
Preheat the oven to 375. Lightly butter a cake pan.
In a food processor combine the butter and sugar and process until smooth and combined. Add the egg and vanilla and process until even smoother. Add the flour, baking powder and salt, and process until you have a thick smooth batter. Add the chocolate chips and process briefly to combine. Spread this batter evenly in your cake pan.
Don’t clean the food processor, but combine all the other ingredients in there, and process until combined and coarse and crumbly. You don’t want to make a smooth paste. Some big pieces of almond are nice. Crumble this over the surface of your cake as evenly as possible.
Bake of about half an hour, until the cake is firm to the touch and the top is toasty and brown. You can move it to the top for the last five minutes or so.
Crows are Dad’s totem, you know. Maybe he could give you a wee tutorial.
He should come see the Lambertville crows! They’re crazy this year. Twenty to a tree, and noisy!