My grandmother’s meringue cake

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I think a lot about generations sometimes. Some things from your older relatives you want to keep and some you don’t. It’s the same whether it’s about furniture – you might want to keep the lovely sideboard in the livingroom but you don’t mind ditching the broken chairs in the basement – or small keepsakes or traditions. I love mixing new traditions with old ones, to make up my own but to also keep things I really love. Every year for my birthday my mum used to make the only cake I liked, my grandmother’s meringue cake. It’s good, it’s crunchy, it’s sweet, it merely use whipped cream as binder and not as a main attraction, it has berries (preferable strawberries in the summer but other berries are fine too) and it’s just so delicious. It’s interesting how much symbolism and memory can be found in food.

A few years ago, when I used to bake a lot (I had a better oven then than I have now), I was looking into making a cake like this and I asked my mother about the recipe. She had gotten it from my grandmother back in 1982 during a phone call where one or both of them were in a hurry and the recipe only said “add eggs” and things like that. Completely impossible to bake from unless you were the one to write it down. This year though, I decided it was really the time. I’m over 30 and it’s time that I take responsibility for this tradition and start taking care of it. What better time to start than midsummer? So, I told my mother and she gave me the recipe, a better version of it than before, and also lend me her oven and her good advice and I made a lovely cake that was much appreciated. It feels good to be able to shoulder the tradition and make my grandmother’s meringue cake. It represents my childhood and hopefully I can make it for future generations as well; friends’ kids and also perhaps my niece and nephew if they ever come back to Sweden. Then maybe someone else will take over when I’m too old to continue. It’s a nice thought.