One of the time-honored stereotypes of the Jewish woman pictures her cooking.

A maven in the kitchen – even if not haute cuisine – she can MacGyver a feast for 12 out of a turnip, a challah, and a morsel of brisket. She insists you Eat! Eat! You’re too skinny and will waste away to nothing! while heaping more onto your plate. She eagerly bestows her recipes and cooking wisdom on her daughter.

Not my mother.

My mother loved to eat, but was not enthusiastic about cooking. Don’t get me wrong, she didn’t neglect my brothers and me. God forbid! we didn’t starve. She just didn’t get all competitive about baking the best meatloaf on the block. Making food was not her love language. Providing food, whether ordering out (restaurants) or ordering in (catering), was.

So whatever culinary inheritance could have been mine by rite of passage got lost … from apathy. I’m okay with that. You can eat well enough with takeout.

Though every once in a while I get curious and want to play in the kitchen.

One year, my rabbi, Frank Tamburello, shared his recipe for honey cake: Put a bunch of ingredients into a bowl. Mix. Pour into a greased pan. Bake.

How difficult can THAT be? I thought. I, who at that point had probably used my NYC oven a grand total of 7 times in the previous 20 years.

Eager to play, I awoke at 8 AM. I measured. 2 cups of flour. 1 cup of soft honey. One cup of coffee. A teaspoon of vanilla. Mix together – thanks to a hand blender I got for my bridal shower (also barely used). I pour into an 8 x 4 loaf pan, as directed. I wait.

35 minutes later, my nose twitches. Something doesn’t smell right. “Honey, do you smell something?” I call to my husband, Joe. “I dunno,” he said. “We rarely cook. Smells good to me.”

I go to the stove anyway. Open the door. Smoke billows out into the kitchen. I hear the sizzle of uncooked batter splatting against the heated oven. It looks like a fifth-grade science experiment gone terribly wrong. As if a mock volcano vomited out of the pan and onto the bottom of the oven. (I should’ve taken a picture, but was too busy opening windows so the smoke alarm wouldn’t go off).

What a fiasco!

I see my rabbi a couple of hours later. “I tried to make the honey cake, but really botched it,” I confess.

Rabbi Frank laughs. “Oh, don’t worry–” he says soothingly. “The first few times I made it, it was a total disaster.”

“And besides,” he continues, “I forgot–there’s a typo in the recipe.”

A typo?

“Yes–it’s too much batter for one pan. You have to put it into two.” he explains.

“Ahhh,” I reply, trying to sound wise, and not like a total idiot. “The recipe says the mixture would be loose … and mine was thick. Like brownie batter.”

“That happens,” Rabbi Frank says. “But the coffee you use doesn’t matter. You don’t have to go to Starbucks. I used my Keurig and it worked just fine. ”

Suddenly, a light begins to dawn. My eyes widen.

“You’re supposed to … brew … the coffee? Not use grinds?” I ask timidly.

Rabbi Frank laughs so hard, tears come to his eyes.

My mother consoled me with: “That’s why God invented bakeries.”

Rabbi Frank’s (Easy) Rosh HaShanah Honey Cake Recipe

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Ingredients:

2 eggs
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 tsp vanilla
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 cup soft honey
1 cup strong coffee (brewed! – Ed.)
2 tsp baking powder
2 cups flour

Combine all ingredients and pour into 2 well-greased and floured 8” aluminum foil loaf pans. Fill each pan halfway.

Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes. Allow to cool before removing from pans.

This easy recipe calls for using coffee (it may be decaf). It is very loose when the ingredients are mixed together. Do not worry, it will harden. Do not overcook. It is quite moist.