The Real Meaning of Divorce Cake

In the South, there is nothing sassier than a scarlet red petticoat.

Historically speaking, that is, and no, I do not have one. Physically, that is. I guess the modern equivalent would be wearing red cowgirl boots. I use to wear them obsessively, and one time I finally turned to a guy at the bar and asked him what he thought of those. He turned to me with the ghost expression of John Wayne and said, “why, I think when I see a woman wearing red cowgirl boots walking down the street, well, I say to myself. Now, that’s a woman that can handle her business.”  Yes! Yes! By all means, YES! That is exactly the kind of woman I know I am.

About five days ago, I made something called, “Lil’ Jim’s Puddin’ Cake.” This is an incredibly yummy cake from the Grit’s cookbook. The Grit is a famous southern vegetarian and vegan restaurant in Athens, Georgia where I attended the University of Georgia’s Lamar Dodd School of Art.  Gooooo dawgs! They just won the Rose Bowl, by the way. Anyhow, that is a DAMN good cookbook, and it is to the vegans that I always turn for their insatiably creative treatment of chocolate.

So, I made this cake from this wonderful cookbook, five days ago. I devoured a piece of it tonight while waiting for my future ex-husband to get off of the phone with his lawyer. We are in late night and early morning negotiations for our divorce. We’re supposed to go to court at 1pm tomorrow.

I have set out a piece for each of us, and what does this marauder I married do? He rejects the chocolate cake and eats store bought soup, instead. I knew it!!!

This man was NOT destined for me. All of that is bullshit. I made a big mistake, and all of my poor friends and family have been dealing with him, because they love me so much. What a humiliation. It’s ok, we have chocolate, here. Stay with me, people.

I offered this man chocolate. He wants me to back pay him for mortgage and car payments where I did not live and for a car I did not have possession of. Nope. He wants full legal, but not physical, custody of our child. Nope. Why, yes, that IS a scarlet red petticoat you spy under my pajamas. I’m coming back. To life, that is. If there’s anything a southern woman can stand for, it’s self-preservation and the protection of their spawn.

In my mind, I am Scarlett O’Hara walking into the lion’s den at Meli’s party while wearing, yes that’s right, a scarlet red petticoat. All I have to say is thank goodness for lawyers. Let’s not worry about how they make their money. Let’s talk about this cake.

I noticed in this cookbook that the cakes have apple cider vinegar, instead of eggs, and coffee and liquor, instead of tons of butter and milk. That’s right, folks. The BEST cakes have LIQUOR and espresso. It’s in our history books too.

My future ex and I even toured a southern plantation in New Orleans before we got married. The original owners of the home grew cotton. The women were not allowed to drink alcohol, but they sure did soak their fruit in it. So, it was customary to have huge vases of fruit soaking in liquor and to imbibe at the end of each meal. The women would have their liquor, by God! And, to that I say hell yes! You poor things. I’m hoping you also had a beautiful scarlet red petticoat. We shall have our liquor!  We shall have our divorce! We shall have our espresso! Women’s rights, here we come!

I haven’t quite retested my own recipe for this more than once, because I would not change a single thing. I suggest you call the Grit, or buy their incredible cookbook. After all, them and the Last Resort Grill have the best dessert counters in all of Athens, Georgia. I am already handling a divorce and do not want to open myself up to plagiarism. Don’t worry. I’ll get the hang of this soon. Depending on how court goes tomorrow, I may be talking about herb infused liquors next time we shall meet. Yes, I was being serious there.

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