• Eagle Brand Coffee Cake

    Truthfully, this is a pound cake, a very, very small pound cake…so small, that I use it as a morning coffee cake, and it is delicious. Normally, I would serve it plain; however, this week I used it to feed the guys who come early to visit and snack before worship service, and I decided to dress it up a bit with the coconut. (Actually, I used the sauce from another recipe and added some coconut to it.)  Delicious!

    It must have been good because one of the men insisted on taking what was left home with him!

    It must have been good because one of the men insisted on taking what was left home with him!


    1 1/3 Cups Flour 3/4 Teaspoon Baking Powder 1 Cup Butter, softened 1/2 Cup Sugar 2 Teaspoons Vanilla 1/2 Teaspoon Salt 3/4 Cup Eagle Brand (I used eggnog today.) 3 Large Eggs Preparation Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. 1. Butter and flour tube pan 2. Sift together the flour and baking powder and set aside. 3. Mix well the butter, sugar, vanilla, and salt. 4. Add the Eagle Brand and continue mixing until all well combined. 5. Beat in the eggs. 6. Add the dry ingredients slowly, beating after each addition. 7. Pour batter into the pan.

    8. Bake until golden brown and a tester comes out clean, 65-75 minutes. Begin checking after an hour.

    9. Cool on a wire rack before removing from the pan.

    About Fredda Jones

    Fredda Davis Jones was raised “in the country” in Comanche County and learned very early that creativity and innovation are traits that can flourish even in small-town Texas and that with enough effort, indeed nothing is impossible, including being married to the same man for over 40 years! Rickey and Fredda have 2 children, 5 grandchildren, and a crazy life that includes sitting in the bleachers several times a week. The rest of her time is spent creating great content for texansunited.com and marketing small-town Texas.
    This entry was posted in Breakfast, Desserts, Our Texas Recipes and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

    5 Responses to Eagle Brand Coffee Cake

    1. Marge Melton says:

      Is there a topping you make for this cake or does it make own after is bakes ?

      Marge Melton

    2. Bruce Nieman-Runner says:

      I was feeling really blue this past weekend. My lovely husband was in Vegas on a “Guys Weekend” with a colleague in advance of the colleague’s marriage. His fourth. To a 26 year old woman from New Jersey. (Wives #2 and #3 are friends of mine. So is his 25 year old daughter.) I don’t mind saying that I don’t much care for a) Las Vegas, b) bachelor parties, or c) my husband’s colleague. But the S.O.B. chartered a plane and reserved a block of rooms, so what is a wife to say?

      I don’t have to tell you that it has been COLD in the South. So on top of being alone and blue, the weather was adding to my gloom. Friday night was ugly. I ate a can of soup for supper. Y’all know that level of low, right? I listened to an old Barbara Streisand Album, and after singing Memories three times, I walked the dogs and went to bed. It was not my finest hour.

      Saturday morning I was still feeling depressed, so instead of saving it for the cleaning lady on Monday, I took everything out of the cabinets and the pantry, washed out the shelves and drawers, then relined them all. Then I moved things that weren’t needed very often – Christmas cookie cutters, wreath pans, candy molds, lamb cake pan, etc. — into Rubbermaid bins, labeled them clearly, and neatly stowed them in the storage areas off of the bonus room. (I don’t know why I call it the bonus room, since it really holds my sewing machine and quilt frame, but if I called it my quilting room, I would sound like an 80 year old lady with varicose veins and a hairnet, so bonus room it is!)

      Saturday afternoon was spent doing taking down my sister-in-law’s Christmas tree and putting her Christmas shit away. In February! Her “back was out”. I would be more sympathetic if her back hasn’t gone out every year after Christmas and stayed out until I had done her work for her. I’m not exaggerating. I’ve had to do it every year since I married her brother. I think her back would hurt less if she got her fat hams off of the couch and moved around a little. Or, I have an idea! Her lazy, unemployed husband could do it! No, it was noon, so he would already be on his fifth beer. I wouldn’t want him falling on their dachshund, Jefferson, who is the only innocent in their household. So, in the end, I guess it’s best I did it. But I now felt depressed AND used.

      Saturday night I tried. I really did. I needed a little comforting. I had pulled a container of chicken and dumplings out of the freezer before I went to the Lazy Heifer’s, and I had a lovely green tomato from the market – my mama thinks it’s crazy to pay the same price for a green tomato as you would for a ripe one, but I think it’s crazy for Mama to let her second ex-husband live in a motor home with his 27 year old girlfriend out back of her pole barn. Now tell me – which is crazier, ladies? Anyway, with the chicken and dumplings, I had fried green tomatoes and a little cucumber salad. I followed that with two shots of Jack Daniels for dessert and watched The Blind Side on DVD while consuming a small jar of marshmallow fluff. I walked the dogs, and climbed into bed in saggy sweats and a ratty t-shirt – one I usually wear when bathing the dogs after a particularly muddy training session. About as pathetic as you can get, right?

      On Sunday morning, as I was walking the dogs, I decided I had had absolutely enough. I am not usually the type to mope around because I am alone. I love my husband – don’t get me wrong – he is the most charming and attentive man I have ever met and I thank God every single days for bringing us together, but I actually ENJOY having time to myself – especially since we got Belle and Opie! You don’t have to worry about looking fat in front of your dogs! So, as I was saying, I just couldn’t go on in that kind of funk. I am not built for that. And I’ve always said that happiness is a choice – like what to have for breakfast or what movie to go see, you can choose to be happy. Or not. So I chose to be happy.

      A friend was stopping by after dinner, so I decided to go home and bake something to help me along the path to happiness. I came right to this website and I saw this recipe. You may not believe me, Ladies, but it was just like in the movies – the lights got brighter and I heard the trumpets sound! It only has a handful of ingredients, and if you don’t have these in your pantry, well, your Mama didn’t raise you right! I whipped up the batter, popped it in the open, and by the time I was out of the shower and dressed in clean, presentable clothes, it had the house smelling like Granny’s!

      I made the sauce you recommended, Fredda, with just one, small, substitution. You know, I couldn’t find any water in the pantry, but I did find a bottle of bourbon, so I used two tablespoons of that instead of the water. I was certain it would ruin it – just ruin it – but it turned out pretty good, if I do say so myself! ;-) (Next time I run out of water, I might make it with rum and add some coconut!)

      My friend Esme came over as planned – isn’t Esme a lovely name? Her mother went to a hairdresser in Calico Rock, Arkansas on her honeymoon, and the woman’s name was Esme, and she thought it was such a pretty name, she named her daughter that. Isn’t that a sweet story? Anyway, Esme loved the cake. She loved it so much, she made me put my plate down and go print off the recipe for her before I forgot about it. She can be a little bossy that way, but the woman has a point – I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I can get off on a tangent. Anyway, I served the cake with a pot of good, strong chicory coffee – Esme and I like coffee that can sweep us off our feet. We were sitting there talking, and I was telling her what a horrible funk I’d been in, when I heard a key at the front door and the dogs doing their happy dance. Then, much to my surprise, my husband walked into the living room, 24 hours early!

      I’m sad to say, his colleague’s wedding might not be going forward as planned. Apparently, while the men were in Vegas, the bride-to-be was arrested on a warrant for identity theft. He’s certain that it’s just a misunderstanding, and I’m willing to give her the benefit of the doubt on that. Oh – she’s also wanted on an outstanding warrant in New Jersey for prostitution. I’m sure that’s just a misunderstanding too.

      I LOVE this cake. It completely cured my depression. Seriously, I never felt better in my life. It was so good, I had to share a piece with a friend…Wife #3. It made her happy, too.

      • Fredda Jones Fredda Jones says:

        Oh, girl, you were BAD OFF if you were in the relining the drawers stage. I only do that right before I get to the jump off of the bridge stage. In fact, I got to the bridge this week. I really did. The only thing that saved me..in fact, I just told a friend yesterday, the ONLY thing that saved me was that the water was just too danged COLD. You know, if you’re gonna jump, it needs to be as painless as possible. So…I’ve decided to suck it up and stay among the living for a while longer anyway. Thank goodness for this nasty weather is all I can say.

        Oh, and I’m so glad you liked the cake. Maybe if I’d have thought to add the bourbon, I wouldn’t have thought about the bridge! :)

    3. Bruce Nieman-Runner says:

      I’m so sorry to hear you were feeling overwhelmed. I hope life is treating you more gently now.

      I have decided that bourbon is the new vanilla. I made a Fruit Cocktail cake — Granny’s recipe…I imagine it was the first Poke Cake. Flour, sugar, salt, baking soda, 3 eggs, 2 T. melted butter and a can of fruit cocktail. (I always have a couple of cans in the larder. The Extra Cherry kind!) WHen the cake has baked, you poke it and pour a hot vanilla sauce (melted butter, evaporated milk, sugar vanilla, and a pinch of salt, boiled) over the cake. I added 2 generous tablespoons of Makers’ Mark to the sauce, and I have to say, it was better than Granny’s.

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