As a kid, I couldn't stand PB&J sandwiches. How did I survive my childhood? Simple. My mom drizzled molasses on my peanut butter sandwiches. It wasn't uncommon to find the molasses dripping out from the sides of the sandwich, and on some days come lunch time my sandwich bag would be a sticky, black mess; but I loved those peanut butter and molasses sandwiches nonetheless. And though I eventually moved on to other sandwich fixings, my affinity for the dark, sticky syrup has never diminished.
While baking this gingerbread cake I helped myself to spoonfuls of molasses . Sweet yet bitter, earthy yet smooth, blackstrap molasses has a complex and intriguing flavor that is not lost on this cake. The molasses, cinnamon, ginger, and cloves blend together and compliment each other so nicely that the resulting gingerbread seems like its own unique spice or flavor, than the combination of many.
As the cake came together the smell of gingerbread filled our kitchen and warmed my soul. The sweet, spiced aroma of gingerbread was enveloping and, like hearing a familiar song you haven't listened to in a while, it filled me with nostalgia.
Continuing the tradition that she had with her grandmother, my mom baked molasses cookies with my sister and I each year at Christmas when we were younger. We haven't made the cookies in a few years now and the tradition had slipped from my mind, but the smell of gingerbread in the oven reminded me of rolling out the soft, dark brown dough, cutting out christmas trees and santa clause, as well as a slightly less festive assortment of dinosaurs and dog bones.
