The Hirshon Moldovan ‘Black Grandmother’ Cake – Babă Neagră

My Citizens – today is the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year and traditionally a time of great fear and foreboding in the earlier history of humanity. Today, the light is at its briefest and the night is long and cold and full of unseen terrors seemingly straight from the bowels of Hell itself (at least it appeared to be so to the fertile imaginations of our ancestors)!

As such, it seems only apropos that today’s recipe is one from the ancient Eastern European country of Moldova, and is known by the intriguing sobriquet of ‘Black Grandmother’ – a name I shall endeavor to explain while discussing how to best achieve the unique holey-spongy texture of this beloved darksome Moldovan dessert!

First off – the name of ‘Black Grandmother’ may in fact be a nod to the ancient witch of the Slavic region, the infamous ‘Old Grandmother’ known in Russia as Baba Yaga!

In Slavic folklore, Baba Yaga (Russian: Баба-Яга, romanized: Baba-Yaga) is a supernatural being who appears as a deformed or ferocious-looking old woman. In Slavic culture, Baba Yaga lived in a hut usually described as standing on chicken legs.

Baba Yaga may help or hinder those that encounter her or seek her out. She may play a maternal role and has associations with forest wildlife. According to Vladimir Propp’s folktale morphology, Baba Yaga commonly appears as a donor, as a villain, or may be altogether ambiguous. Her depictions vary greatly across tales, ranging from a child-eating monster, to helping a protagonist find his missing bride.

Andreas Johns identifies Baba Yaga as “one of the most memorable and distinctive figures in eastern European folklore”, and observes that she is “enigmatic” and often exhibits “striking ambiguity”. Johns summarizes Baba Yaga as “a many-faceted figure, capable of inspiring researchers to see her as a Cloud, Moon, Death, Winter, Snake, Bird, Pelican or Earth Goddess, totemic matriarchal ancestress, female initiator, phallic mother, or archetypal image”.

Variations are found in the languages of the Eastern Slavic peoples. The first element, baba, is transparently a babble word. In Old Russian, baba may mean “midwife”, “sorceress”, or “fortune teller”. In modern Russian, the word бабушка or babushka (meaning “grandmother”) derives from it, as does the word babcia (also “grandmother”) in Polish. In Serbo-Croatian, Macedonian and Bulgarian, baba means “grandmother; old woman”. In contemporary, unofficial Polish and Russian baba is the pejorative synonym of “woman” (especially old, dirty or foolish woman).

These associations have led to variety of theories on the figure of Baba Yaga, though the presence of the element baba may have simply been taken as its primary meaning of “grandmother” or “old woman”. While a variety of etymologies have been proposed for the second element of the name, Yaga, it remains far more etymologically problematic and no clear consensus among scholars has resulted. For example, in the 19th century, Alexander Afanasyev proposed the derivation of Proto-Slavic *ož and Sanskrit ahi (‘serpent, snake’). This etymology has subsequently been explored by other scholars in the 20th century.

Related terms to the second element of the name, Yaga, appear in various Slavic languages; Serbo-Croatian jeza (“horror”, “shudder”, “chill”), Slovene jeza (“anger”), Old Czech jězě (“witch”, “legendary evil female being”), modern Czech jezinka (“wicked wood nymph”, “dryad”), and Polish jędza (“witch”, “evil woman”, “fury”). The term appears in Old Church Slavonic as jęza/jędza (meaning “disease”, “illness”). In other Indo-European languages the element iaga has been linked to Lithuanian engti (“to abuse (continuously)”, “to belittle”, “to exploit”), Old English inca (“doubt”, “worry”, “pain”), and Old Norse ekki (“pain”, “worry”).

As noted by Lithuanian scholar Marija Gimbutas, the character of Baba Yaga shows considerable ambiguity: she is described as a witch with cannibalistic tendencies, with preference for children in some accounts, while in others she is a wise prophetess who gives guidance to heroes.

As one of the most famous witches, Baba Yaga makes an appearance in hundreds if not thousands of folktales in Russia, Ukraine, and Belarus predating the eighteenth century. The first clear reference to Baba Yaga (Iaga baba) occurs in 1755 with Mikhail V. Lomonosov’s Rossiiskaia grammatika (‘Russian grammar’). Lomonosov’s grammar mentions Baba Yaga twice among other figures largely from Slavic tradition.

The second of the two mentions occurs within a list of Slavic gods and beings next to their presumed equivalence in Roman mythology (the Slavic god Perun, for example, appears equated with the Roman god Jupiter). Baba Yaga, however, appears in a third section without an equivalence, attesting to perception of her uniqueness even in this first known attestation. However, it is noticeable that, like Hecate, Baba Yaga presides over a wide, diverse array of domains and functions.

In the narratives in which Baba Yaga appears, she displays a variety of typical attributes: a turning, chicken-legged hut; and a mortar, pestle, mop or broom. Baba Yaga frequently bears the epithet “bony leg” (Baba Iaga kostianaia noga), and when inside of her dwelling, she may be found stretched out over the stove, reaching from one corner of the hut to another. Baba Yaga may sense and mention the “Russian scent” (russkim dukhom) of those that visit her. Her nose may stick into the ceiling. Some narratives particularly emphasize the repulsiveness of her nose.

The character of Baba Yaga almost certainly had an influence on this unique cake, whose ‘holey’ texture assuredly looks like some kind of magic has happened to the dessert – and indeed it has! It’s called chemistry, and the use of activated baking soda causes a huge amount of carbonated gas to be released, resulting in the unique texture. It is in fact nearly identical to several Southern Chinese and Malaysian desserts of similar composition and color, though it is highly-unlikely they are causally-related to one another.

You definitely want this cake to be dark-colored, and despite its dark umber hue it has no chocolate in it whatsoever – it is a most beloved cake in Moldova (whose language is actually based on Latin, just like Romanian which it is basically identical to)! Like so many delicious Eastern European desserts, this includes a bit of rose jam in the batter for flavor – while optional in many recipes, I consider it essential!

You can buy quality artisinal rose jam in the proper Eastern European style from here. Vanilla sugar of excellent quality may be easily purchased on Amazon from here, and baked kefir (the acidity combined with the baked nature of the beverage in this style of kefir all help ensure a tender crumb and great flavor) may be found in Eastern European grocery stores – if you can’t find it, just use regular kefir with live cultures.

This recipe is so old-fashioned that it is still measured by ‘glasses’ – never fear, I’ve provided the actual volume amounts to use in the recipe! Follow it exactingly, and you will be in for a true treat of Eastern Europe, from a country rarely thought of (or even known of!) by most Americans. I hope in some small way, this lack of understanding will change for the better based on this recipe, which is an ideal closer to the Moldovan national dish of spiced pork ribs!

My Citizens – to quote the great Welsh poet Dylan Thomas on this shortest day of the year:

Do not go gentle into that good night
Dylan Thomas – 1914-1953

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Battle on and Happy Holidays to you and yours, if you celebrate them – the Generalissimo

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