Ella: An Amish Retelling 0f Cinderella (An Amish Fairytale Book 2)
Page 23
1 cup all-purpose flour
½ cup sugar
¼ cup (packed) golden brown sugar
¼ cup rolled oats
1½ teaspoons ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons chilled unsalted butter, cut into ½-inch cubes
Mix flour, white sugar, brown sugar, oats, cinnamon, and salt in a separate bowl.
Use a pastry cutter to mash cold butter into the mixture until it becomes the texture of crumbs.
Spread evenly across the apples.
Bake at 350° for 40 minutes or until top is golden brown and sides are bubbling.
Poor Man’s Cake
2 cups water
2 cups brown sugar
2 tablespoons solid vegetable shortening
1½ cups raisins (regular, golden, or a mixture of both)
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon allspice
½ teaspoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons hot tap water
3 cups all-purpose white flour
In a large saucepan, combine the brown sugar, shortening, raisins, salt, and spices in the water.
Bring to a boil and immediately remove from the heat, allowing it to cool to room temperature.
Dissolve the baking soda in 2 teaspoons of hot water.
Sift together the flour and baking soda.
Add to the batter, and mix well.
Pour into greased baking pan (9” x 13”).
Bake at 350° for about 30 minutes or until a tester inserted near the center comes out clean.
Cool in the pan.
Lazy-Daisy Oatmeal Cake
CAKE
1¼ cups water
1 cup rolled oats
5 tablespoons butter
1 cup white sugar
1 cup brown sugar
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla
1¾ cup flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg
¼ teaspoon salt
Heat water until boiling and then remove from heat and mix in the oats. Set aside.
In large bowl, beat butter and sugars until blended. Add the egg and vanilla and beat well.
Mix the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt with the oat mixture. Combine with the butter, sugar, and egg mixture.
Pour the batter into an 8-inch pan.
Bake at 350° for 55 minutes or until a toothpick inserted near the center comes out clean.
Set aside while making the topping.
TOPPING
2 tablespoons butter
½ cup shredded coconut
½ cup brown sugar
½ cup rolled oats
3 tablespoons milk
Melt the butter.
Combine all ingredients in small bowl and mix well.
Sprinkle the mixture evenly on the top of warm cake.
Broil about 4 inches from heat for no more than two minutes or until topping is bubbly.
Cool cake in pan on wire rack.
Read on for an excerpt of
Sarah Price’s next Amish romance,
Sadie: An Amish Retelling of Snow White.
Outside the window of the sitting room, the snow fell like tiny pieces of wispy cotton, covering the fields in a blanket of white. The dusty lane that led to the farmhouse slowly disappeared as Sarah Whitaker stared outside, one hand on her enlarged belly and the other holding the pieces of a baby blanket. She knew that she should be focusing on the quilt. It was almost finished. But the beauty of the winter’s first snowfall kept her mesmerized.
Perhaps it was the pregnancy that made her so emotional. Or maybe it was the good fortune that had befallen her in the past twelve months. Regardless, she felt the sting of happy tears in her eyes, and she lifted her hand to wipe them with her fingers.
“Sarah?”
At the sound of her name, she turned from the window and smiled as her husband walked toward her. He was a large man, taller than most men in Echo Creek. And his beard was finally filling in. Gone was the patchiness of his newly married facial hair, replaced with a nice, full set of dark whiskers that covered his jawline.
He crossed the room, passing through the small kitchen and into the open sitting room, which still smelled like fresh paint and new wood. Kneeling before her, he reached for her hand and searched her face.
Sarah shivered at the warmth of his touch.
“You cold?” he asked, his bright blue eyes filled with concern.
“Nee,” she whispered, and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “The fire’s keeping the room warm enough, but danke, Jacob.”
He didn’t look convinced. “I can fetch more wood.”
Sarah laughed softly. “I’m fine. I promise.”
Such a fine husband, she thought. How had she ever managed to win his heart and hand? During her rumschpringe, many of the young women in Echo Creek had been eager to ride home in Jacob Whitaker’s buggy. Somehow, however, Sarah had caught his eye, probably at worship service prior to her turning sixteen, for at only the second youth singing she had attended, he had laid claim to her.
During one of the breaks when the songs were put on hold so that the young people could talk with their friends or get a cool drink of lemonade, Jacob had sent his older brother, John, to where Sarah was standing with her friends in the barn. A nervous John shuffled his feet when he asked Sarah if she’d consider riding home with Jacob.
That was just the way things were done in Echo Creek.
And, with a blush on her cheeks and her eyes focused on the hay beneath her shoes, Sarah had said yes.
“How’s the baby?” Jacob asked. He hesitated before he reached out and placed his hand on her stomach.
Sarah covered his hand with her own. There were so many things about Jacob that she loved. The gentle way in which he handled her was just one of them. He treated her like a precious figurine, always so gentle, as if she might break under his strong touch. And he was a strong man. Most farmers were.
“She’s doing just fine,” Sarah teased.
He raised an eyebrow. “She?”
Sarah nodded her head. “Ja, she.”
Jacob tried to hide his smile. She could see that by the way the corners of his lips twitched. “Might be nice to start off with a boy, don’t you think?”
“There’ll be plenty of time for boys, Jacob,” Sarah said in a soft voice. “But I long so much for a dochder, someone who can help me raise our sons and keep me company when I bake bread and can vegetables. A little girl who I can teach to sew and quilt.” She glanced down at the baby blanket.
He leaned forward and kissed her hand. But as he did so, he shifted the blanket, and Sarah felt the pinch of a needle in her finger.
“Ouch!” Instinctively, she dropped the blanket and jerked her hand toward her mouth so that she could suck on the top of her thumb.
A look of horror crossed his face. “Did I do that?”
But Sarah merely shook her head. “It’s one of the many dangers a woman faces when she quilts a blanket, I’m afraid,” she teased. “Bound to happen again, too, so don’t you fret none, Jacob.”
Jacob, however, barely heard a word. Or, if he had heard, he didn’t listen. Immediately, he was on his feet and hurrying to the sink. With amused eyes, Sarah watched as he took a clean dishcloth from the drawer, ran water over it, and hurried back to her side.
“You’re bleeding,” he said as he pulled her hand away from her mouth. Pressing the cloth to her finger, he shook his head. “I’m so clumsy sometimes,” he lamented under his breath.
Sarah responded by placing her free hand on his cheek and gently guiding him to look her in the eyes. “Nee, Jacob. You are the kindest of men. And I can only hope that our dochder is just like you.”
Despite the worried look on his face, he gave her a soft smile.
“She’ll have
your dark hair and lively blue eyes,” Sarah continued in a wistful manner, her eyes slowly returning to gaze out the window. “And pretty porcelain skin the color of freshly fallen snow.”
At this comment, Jacob chuckled, his fears at having hurt his wife slowly abating. “Then you’d best give me some sons soon after so that your little princess won’t have to help me when it comes to harvesting the fields.”
Sarah shook her head. “Oh, no! No field work for her. We can’t have her skin getting all tanned and freckled, can we, now?”
This time, Jacob laughed. “A spoiled Amish girl for you? I don’t think that would sit well with many people in Echo Creek. Nor will it help her land her own husband.”
“Nee, not spoiled!” Sarah made a face at him. “That would never do, Jacob Whitaker!” Her expression softened. “Nee, our dochder will be hardworking, all right, but she’ll help me in the house while your sons help you in the fields.”
Jacob glanced down at her hand, which he had wrapped in the towel. “Looks like it’s stopped bleeding.” His eyes traveled to the window and Sarah followed his gaze. “And the snow’s sure falling harder.” He gave a reluctant sigh. “Reckon I’d best be settling the livestock down for the evening, then.”
He leaned over and placed a soft kiss upon her forehead. Sarah shut her eyes, savoring the moment. When he finally pulled away and left the kitchen, Sarah took a deep breath and prayed her thankfulness to God for having seen fit to grant her a place in Jacob’s heart. She prayed her gratitude to God for allowing her to conceive so soon after her and Jacob’s spring wedding just ten months earlier. And she prayed her hope to God for the health of her unborn child.
“One dochder,” she whispered as she finally opened her eyes. “Just one, God. And then a whole houseful of boys for Jacob.”
Oh yes. Sarah could envision her daughter, a smaller and more petite version of Jacob. She pictured the baby as she’d described her to Jacob—she’d have dark hair like his and skin the color of freshly fallen snow. Sarah glanced at her thumb and noticed a small bead of red blood at the place where the needle had pierced her skin. Ah, of course. Ruby red lips that, when she smiled, would light up every heart in the room.
Outside the window, Sarah saw Jacob’s tall, lean figure, hunched over from the blowing snow, as he crossed the front yard and headed toward the barn. The snow was falling faster now, just as Jacob had said. Without a radio or television, they had no way of knowing how much snow was expected. But Sarah didn’t care. There was enough food in the pantry to last them days, even weeks. They had no need to leave the small farm outside of Echo Creek, and with the baby not due for another six weeks, Sarah had no fears or worries. Jacob would take care of her and their child, regardless of whether it was a son or a daughter. Of that, Sarah was sure and certain.