She found it in that corner— The recipe, so rare. She made it to perfection, And asked us out to share.

We had chicken, rolls and salad And things we couldn't make. But oh! the most delectable Was Annie's fresh Dream Cake.

Now we're going out to Annie's, Just when the day is fair; For when we tried to make that cake The Dream was one nightmare.

Welcome to Vintage Americana, exploring and restoring rural American culture. I'm your hostess, Holly, and today we're going to discuss that most hotly contested of rural skills - baking.

Which is not to say that only rural people bake. But women in the country often maintain a reputation based on a specific baked good, for which they are renowned across the entire county. I remember Mrs. Boss was famed for her rolls. For my mother it was usually chocolate chip cookies. Her baked goods were always a draw, but the chocolate chip cookies were her real claim to fame. She made a batch nearly every week, then tucked them into old coffee cans and stored them in the freezer. My sister, my Dad and I each got some in our lunches every day.

So beloved were those cookies, that they began to reach legendary status. At my high school graduation open house, in spite of the presence of cake - including Mom's nearly equally sought after chocolate-caramel in-between cake - my cousin sidled up and asked, "Does your Mom still keep chocolate chip cookies around?"

"Yep." I responded.

"In the coffee can? In the freezer?"

"Yep."

"Oh, good."

The coffee can in question was empty by the end of the afternoon.

Because feeding people is an expression of affection and nurturing, many women have (and do!) expend quite a lot of time and energy building skills in the art of food. It's so common, it's become a trope. Mothers, grandmothers, aunts who feed their loved ones. It ties in with hospitality, as well. There was a time when many a woman prided herself on always having something on hand to feed unexpected guests.

Or even expected guests. Mom and the chocolate chip cookies were standard. Other baked good often meant company was expected. As curious little children, my sister and I tended to view Mom's baking habits as something of a canary in the coal mine.

One afternoon, she was in the kitchen, making a batch of brownies. This was out of pattern.

"Who's coming over?"

She gave me an arch look. "Just making brownies does NOT mean that someone is coming over. Sometimes I just like to make brownies."

Fair enough, I supposed, and wandered into the living room.

Then my sister came down the stairs - drawn, most likely, by the alluring scent of chocolate beginning to fill the air. Mom's brownies are another recipe rather unique to here - a dense, fudgy confection utterly unlike anything that ever came out of a box mix.

My sister stood on tiptoes to see what was in the saucepan. (It never did to get in Mom's way when she was in the kitchen.) "Who's coming over?" she asked.

Mom was beginning to get a little annoyed. "I don't know why you just assume someone is coming over. I make brownies for you all the time!"

Patently untrue. But not worth the wrath that would ensue by arguing the point.

About now Dad came in from the yard, and noticed the telltale signs of incipient brownies. "Who's coming over?" he asked.

Mom gave up. "The Vohwinkles!" she huffed. Busted.

This was a habit she came by honestly. He great Aunt Jennie famously cleaned her house on Friday and baked on Saturday just in case anyone stopped by for coffee after church on Sunday.

While it's true that offering a small bit of baked delight was occassionally an exercise in one-ups-manship, that subtle wrangling was formalized by baking contests that proved the competitive spirit of the aproned set was equal to anything seen on the grid iron.

One of the more common outlets even now is the county fair. A blue ribbon, or even better, that rarest of honors, a Sweepstakes, confers an invisible pastry crown for the next year.

If you've never been, most county fairs don't have a public participation in the tasting. In fact, most of them don't have public judging. Instead, you drop off your item, and then circle back later to see what - if any - ribbon is on your entry. And, naturally, to see what ribbons might be on OTHER people's entries...

Some fairs do an outright ranking systems - the usual first, second, third, etc. There may or may not be a "Best in Show" ribbon to award. And sometimes a Sweepstakes ribbon is reserved for a particularly worthy entry - although it may not be awarded every year. Others use what's called "The Danish System," where entrants are judged against a standard, rather than against each other. So, multiple blue ribbons may be awarded, for instance. It's like your school grades. More than one student could get an A, if they did the work well.

There are, too, fairs that included the baked goods entries in the auctions. All of the entries that place above a certain level are admitted to the auction that same evening. Just like a livestock or antique auction, each item goes to the highest bidder. If you have a good crowd and a good sense of humor, a little salesmanship and can increase your take! It also helps to know which items are crowd favorites, if your goal is to have the high sale. Cakes, for instance, might sometimes go for $200! The usual system splits the earnings between the entrant and the fair board, so it makes for a great

fundraiser.

Entering baked goods in the county fair is such a long standing tradition that it is something of an old movie trope. If you've never, go find the movie "State Fair." First, everybody should also make time for more Rodgers and Hammerstein musicals. I'm listening to the soundtrack while I write up my notes for this episode. Second, one of the threads of the plot revolve around Mrs. Frake and her mincemeat pie - entered against the woman who always wins first place!

Later on, we'll have a talk about entering things in the County Fair, why you should and how to do it. I promise.

The second of the Baking Bout Trifecta is a good old fashioned Box Social. This one may be unfamiliar to thoroughly modern misses, but it was a common activity. If you want to see one in action, go stream "Oklahoma!" (back to Rogers and Hammerstein, yet again!) The basic jist is that all the young ladies who are taking part pack a box or hamper with a meal for two - culminating in her best dessert. Then, the boxes are auctioned off. The young man who buys the hamper gets the meal, and the company of the young lady who made it. Simple, yes? Now, hypothetically, those hampers are all anonymous. But of course many a girl told her young man which box was hers. Or, as likely, a girl known for a specific dish would make her hamper identifiable by making it.

Whether it's Laurie's hamper or Tiana's man catchin' beignets, we're all familiar with the concept. Vintage ads abound with similar sentiments. Swan's Down Cake flour reminds readers of Household magazine that "Men love Swan's Down Cakes - and the girls who make them!" and include a recipe for Pink Heaven Cake. Another encourages bakers to, "Put stars in his eyes with this Sugarplum Spice Cake." And another trumpets that "Swans Down mixes make Kissin' cakes!"

And, of course, if you've conquered the county fair - and maybe the state fair, and been the Belle of the Box Social, it was time to tackle the Grand Daddy of them all:

The Pillsbury Grand National, later known as the Pillsbury Bake-off. Before the Great British Baking Show. Before Cupcake Wars. The Bake-off was the Queen of baking contests. Starting in 1949, the competition encouraged home bakers to enter their best recipes. 100 finalists would compete in person - first in New York, later in Los Angeles, for cash prizes. It's been a part of American baking culture ever since.

My mother went through much of the 80's and 90's with a dogged determination to win the Bake-off. Although she never so much as made it to the finals, anyone who knew her got to enjoy the cast-offs as she perfected and tweaked. I think my very favorite of her creations was a set of sweet scones made with frosting as the required ingredient. Used to replace much of the fat and sugar in the recipe, the frosting made for some delightfully soft, gooey treats. Maybe I'll share the recipe out on the blog, I've always saved it because I really thought they were a cut above much of the other recipes of the day that used mixes or other convenience products.

Each year, after the finals had taken place, all the 100 final recipes would be published in a booklet. That booklet appeared in the grocery store check out shelves, and Mom would scour them until she got a copy. Scoping out the competition and planning for next year. The Bake-Off launched some recipes that have entered American baking lexicon and never left. Peanut Butter blossoms are so ubiquitous, I don't think I've seen a Christmas cookie tray without them. Or some variation on them.

And then there was the Tunnel of Fudge Cake. It's baked in a Bundt pan - a piece of bakeware that sold so poorly that NordicWare nearly discontinued it. Until that winning cake recipe in 1966. Since then, NordicWare has sold over 60 million - and named November 15 "National Bundt Day."

I freely admit, I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with Bundt pans. My supposedly "non-stick" versions frequently hang on to a vital piece of cake when de-panned. But, I do admit a profound affection for a genuine 1970's era Bundt pan that was passed to me from a friend. With the real deal, there is no nonstick coating. But, properly greased and floured, it turns out a beautiful Bundt.

Other recipes caused stores to sell out of specific ingredients as soon as that year's recipe book came out - Open Sesame Pie initiated a run on sesame seeds. And Magic Marshmallow Crescent Puffs did the same for Pillsbury's refrigerated crescent rolls.

Behold, the power of the Bake-Off.

But I think, of all the recipes that have graced the Grand National Kitchen, I have the most affection for Blueberry Boy Bait.

In 1954, 15-year-old Renny Powell took second place in the junior division with her

supercharged blueberry coffee cake with a cheeky name. I think this one might deserve a small video, if I can get my camera mount to sit on my kitchen counter nicely.

Now the Bake-Off has gone virtual, and Mom has lost interest entirely, convinced that in order to win you must use whichever of the "eligible" products that the company wants to promote. And she may be right. Certainly, Bake-off success sells products. And convenience products are much more profitable for Pillsbury than plain ol' flour. Mom, for her part, prefers from-scratch baking and so had decided to retire from the Arena.

I'm delighted to note that, while box socials may have faded out (not entirely gone, but certainly out of the main stream), baking contests are still going strong. Some for good, and some maybe a bit less so. Those fairs are still going strong, and so are lots of other little local baking contests.

Just talking about it has given me a bit of a baking bug, so I did a quick search for things around my neck of the woods. I was a little disappointed to see that neither the National Blueberry Festival (in South Haven, Michigan) nor the National Cherry Festival (in Traverse City) holds a pie baking contest. Although there is a pie EATING contest at the blueberry festival.

It's not all disappointment, though. Frankenmuth sponsors an apple pie contest - and the winner seems to earn the right to go on to the National Pie Championships. I DO make a mean apple pie... And Frankenmuth is a fun tiny town to visit, especially in the Fall when Oktoberfest is on.

Middleville also holds a pie contest as part of their Heritage Days event in August. They do specify fruit/Summer seasonal pies that don't need refrigeration. And there is some audience participation tasting. That might have to go on the list, as well. Although my Bomb Pop pie - beloved of one of my co-workers, DOES need to be refrigerated so I'd have to come up with something else. Definitely worth thinking about!

And I do see that Wellington Farms, a historical park in Grayling Michigan, has an event called "Sticky Bun Days." I'll have to revisit that when they update their calendar. Visiting a park that presents life on a Midwestern farm in the 1930's sounds like fun. And Sticky Buns? Sign me up.

And, while Saschatchewan's Saskatoon Berry festival is a bit too far for me to make, the

berries have recently become popular with growers in Northern Michigan. They like the climate, and might be a more stable crop than cherries - which often suffer from late frosts. And price pressure from cheap Turkish imported cherries has led to dumped crops more than once. Saskatoon berries, or June berries, as they're often called, don't have either of those issues. They're also a little obscure, and don't have a ready market. I think a Saskatoon Berry Pie contest might be a good way to boost their popularity.

Let's talk, too, about our favorite TV baking contests. Food Network, for one, abounds with them. I admit to having been a bit of a Cupcake Wars addict and armchair quarterbacking more than one episode. I'm still a sucker for any of the baking championships versions - Halloween, Holiday, or Spring. And I'm certainly fonder of this show than I am the "Worst Cooks in America," or some of the other competitive realty programs whose drama centers on spectacular failures. That said, the Baking Championships generally center on professionals - pastry chefs, bakery owners, and such. When there is a "home baker," the fact is usually pointed out repeatedly - should that unfortunate soul even make it past the first week.

Which is probably why I - and the rest of the World - treasure The Great British Bake-Off as the Creme de la Creme of baking competition shows. These are real people. Most seasons, we get to watch snippets of them cooking in their real kitchens, between weekends in the tent.

Yes, they all have serious baking chops. But they're also relatable, because they often make the same sorts of things we would feed our family and friends.

If you're unfamiliar with the show, the format is quite a bit different than the average Food Network show. Instead of being handed a challenge and at least giving the TV audience the impression that they invented and baked up a new recipe on the spot, there are three rounds to each week, and for two of those, our contestants could practice. The Signature Round consists of an assignment to bake a specific thing - but to put a personal spin on it. And the "thing" is usually quite specific. Not "cake" but perhaps an olive oil cake. Sometimes contestants bring ingredients from home - that they grow or raise themselves. What American country girl can't see herself showing up with a bowl full of fresh eggs and a basket of raspberries.

The show stopper is also something practiced - a large challenge that may involved equal elements of baking and engineering. Something to impress a crowd. Yep, that

resonates, too. If you're recognized as the baker par excellence in your community, of course you'd be asked to bring the finishing touch to the grange hall Fourth of July Picnic!

In between, lay the technical. And in this challenge, all the bakers get the same ingredients - and a recipe that leaves out quite a lot of detail. The idea originally was to test how widely their skills ranged.

And I think the show was really MOST successful when it showcased traditional British baking. Victoria sandwich cake, scones, custard tarts, Viennese Whirls. The combination of genuinely likable people presenting the country with it's own comfort foods was a lock.

Which might be part of the reason that every attempt to do an American version has sort of fallen on its face.

What we needed for that was not Paul Hollywood - who I enjoy watching on the British version - or any of the other British transplants dragged over to emphasize that this was the American version of the Great British Bake Off. Without getting sued by the BBC. Paul was always uncomfortable, and often faintly - and visibly! - nauseated by American baking. It's challenges and format are created in New York and filmed in Britain. The end result lacks the "down home" feel that might make it more of a success.

In part because "American Baking" is much more regional. Imagine technical challenges that included Apple Stack Cake or Hoosier Pie, Huckleberries or Paw Paws. Watching baking shows is another place we can see the push for "diversity" that in fact flattens everything into a "sameness" of unobjectionable box-ticking. Queue up any of the Food Network baking Championships - and see how many times someone makes a Tres Leches cake. Or uses Passionfruit. Or Matcha powder. Not that these things are inherently bad. But rather they are trendy, beloved on the coasts (this week), and imply "diversity."

Maybe it's time for Real America to take our baking back, too. Dust off your aprons and get into the kitchen. Check around locally for festivals celebrating what's grown where you are. Food festivals often come with a baking contest.

Ready to bake your way to stardom? I've got some tips for you.

First - read the rules. Yes, I know that should be obvious. But you'd be surprised how often this trips people up. For instance, the pie contest for the Middleville Heritage Days prohibits the use of colorings. So - leave that drop of red food coloring out of your raspberry pie! And make sure to remove it from the written version of the recipe. If you wrote it down, they'll assume you used it! And follow all the rules for plating and presentation, too

Second - if you put an ingredient in your dishes name - the judges had better be able to taste it. So make sure there is enough ginger in that Ginger Peach Cobbler to get noticed.

Third - Get your technical skills in shape. Cakes should have a nice, tender crumb without being too dry. Pies must avoid the dreaded soggy bottom! If you're finding a specific flaw keeps tripping you up, look around for tips to help you. Soggy bottom? Brush the bottom of your pie tin with butter. Par bake the crust for a few minutes. Sprinkle it lightly with flour before adding that fruit filling. Remember that if it's a problem for you, it's been a problem for somebody else. The solution is out there! Maybe even ask that county fair-winning baker how she does it!

Four - choose your entry wisely. Some baked goods, no matter how delicious, just don't do well when held for judging and served at room temperature. Back to my 4H days again, I remember entering some black bottom cupcakes. This was Mom's idea - frankly I've never particularly liked them. But she was insistent. The thing is, when you make black bottom cupcakes, the cream cheese batter added to the tops causes them to sink. I defy you to make them and NOT have the tops sink. BUT - in a class of cupcakes, sunken tops are a flaw. And rated no better than a red ribbon. I'm still bitter. So - choose a dish that will look lovely, taste good, and hold it's charms for whatever time period exists between drop off and judging.

Five - creativity is great, but don't throw in exotic ingredients or trendy ones just because. It might make your entry stand out - but that might not be in a good way. So think real hard before taking that Habanero Peach Matcha Cream Passionfruit pie to the peach festival....

Six - enter in the spirit of friendly competition, love of food, enjoyment of a beautiful day, and the sheer fun of it. No grating Ex-Lax over Mrs. Garblefunker's Devil's Food Cake, Mmm-kay?

Showing off our baking chops has long been a favorite activity for Rural women. Whether we're showing off to Ben and Harriet from church, who stopped in for coffee, or displaying our Best Pie on National TV, we flat out ENJOY it.

We can help our communities by promoting something that's grown locally. And we get to feed the people we love.

Me? I'm going to go start experimenting with recipes. And I think maybe I'll make a polite suggestion to the National Saskatoon Institute - which is headquartered in Northern Michigan - to consider a festival, with a pie baking contest! What better way to introduce people to a new fruit?

Are you coming?