When In Rome

Carmel-by-the-Sea, California

The Carmel Mission Basilica was built in 1771. Do the math, people. That's five years before our forefathers signed the Declaration of Independence. It is the burial site of Father Junipero Serra who founded the California Missions. It is an awe-inspiring edifice which provides me with a sacred space when I am here in Carmel. Now, I just reread that sentence and fear that it sounds a little too touchy-feely, or worse, like I'm proselytizing. But I'm not. I am not a Catholic. I'm really nothing, I guess. I was half-heartedly sent to a Sunday school of a rather odd denomination. Casting no aspersions here, I will just say that the vaccination scar on my arm did little to endear me to my Sunday school teacher. My parents did not follow the tenants of this religious organization in which my mother had, also half-heartedly been raised. My dad was Episcopalian. I remember his story that when he was in the Navy (OK, Village People, get out of my head), he attempted to attend services that were labeled "protestant." It turned out to be on the low end (not meant pejoratively, but rather low versus high) of the protestant spectrum. Finding that service unfamiliar, he instead attended Mass with the Catholics for the rest of his tour of duty. So, that's the story on my father's side. My mother must have forgiven him for that. However, when I announced to her, when I was about ten, that I wanted to convert to Catholicism, she replied that she would "disown" me if I did that. I was ten! Doesn't that threat seem a little excessive? Anyway, later on, after a lot of shopping churches while I was growing up, my parents finally landed in a middle-of-the-road protestant denomination. I was already in college at this time, but I thought their choice was suitable. They chose a church to which you could apply the joke that whenever you find four of those parishioners, you will find . . . a fifth. It's good when your faith doesn't dictate how you spend your cocktail hour.

Now, back to the Mission. This is where I attend Mass when I am in Carmel, which started when house guests brought me along one Sunday a few years back. It was the end of Advent, and the altar was filled, filled with poinsettias. The Mission has the most beautiful choir, and we sang a hymn of Gloria with the sopranos soaring over the top of us. That first visit meant a lot to me, so I now go to Mass each Sunday when I am in Carmel. My mom still doesn't approve, so I tell her it's about the music and the architecture. But it's not. It's about having a sacred time and place where for an hour each week, I can be clear on what is truly important. For some reason, the Mission provides this for me.

Last week we sang the hymn whose melody Cat Stevens used for his song Morning Has Broken. That was pretty cool. And there was a collection for relief in Haiti. But mostly it was a rainy Sunday when residents and tourists filled the space, and the experience filled my heart. When I go home, I will not attend church, and on most Sunday mornings I will pick up my gardening trowel instead of my car keys. I will stay home, and if weather is good, we will spend the morning gardening. But most of the year my heart yearns for what I experience each Sunday in January, here in Carmel.

Carmel Mission Basilica was restored back about seventy-five years ago, and today is once again in need of repairs and restoration. If you are interested in helping, or just interested in the Mission, you can find more information here.

What would Sandra do? Sandra was the house guest who took me to the Mission the first time. I baked her this cake as a thank you. And thank you for reading my blog.

Mission Cake
3/4 cup sugar
8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter
1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour, sifted
1 teaspoon baking powder
2 eggs
pinch salt
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 ripe bosc pears, peeled, cored, and sliced into eighths
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1-2 tablespoons turbinado sugar (one brand is Sugar in the Raw)
powdered sugar

Place a rack in the lower third of the oven. Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

Cream 3/4 cup sugar and butter. Add flour, baking powder, eggs, vanilla, and salt. Beat to mix well. Place in a 9 inch ungreased springform pan. Cover the top with a single layer of the pears, in a decorative spiral fashion or not. Mix the cinnamon with the remaining sugar and sprinkle over the top.

Bake for 40 to 50 minutes, give or take (I've had it take only 30 minutes, but I suspect my oven was born under the sign of Capricorn -- it's rather moody, which causes me to regularly attempt to calibrate it. That day it must have been running hot). At any rate, give it the ol' toothpick test. Remove, cool before removing sides of pan. Place on a plate and give it a good dusting of powdered sugar. Excellent when served with dulce con leche ice cream or frozen yogurt when presented as dessert. Also good for Sunday breakfast or brunch -- skip the frozen cream bit.

Note: This is a year-round cake which can made with peaches, plums, berries or a mix of all. I made it for Christmas this year with cranberries. This required the full two tablespoons of raw sugar in the topping. You can also vary the extract or eliminate it entirely.

8 servings