Pound cake. Yum. What self-respecting Southerner doesn’t love it? My sweet mom makes one for me and my crew every time we head to Georgia to see her. I like to pretend it’s just for me, but it’s really for my husband John. Spoiled son-in-law. We eat it as a late night snack as soon as we arrive, weary after an 8-hour drive that should have only taken 7. We eat it for dessert. We toast thick slices for breakfast (and sometimes add more butter on top). We saw off thin slivers each time we walk by the lucite cake plate to “even it out.” It’s long gone before the weekend is over.
