Dorset Apple Cake; William Barnes; Eclogue

THE GREAT DORSET APPLE CAKE BAKE OFF, Philip Strange, Marshwood Vale magazine

"What’s all the fuss about and what exactly is a Dorset Apple Cake?"

"There is also a reference to apple cake in a poem, Father Come Home (1834), by the Dorset dialect poet, William Barnes, and I suspect that apple cakes have been made in Dorset for a very long time".

"Your supper's nearly ready. I've a-got
Some teaties here a-doen in the pot;
I wish wi' all my heart I had some meat.
I got a little ceake too, here, a-beaken o'n
Upon the vier. 'Tis done by this time though
He's nice an' moist; vor when I were-a meakin o'n
I stuck some bits ov apple in the dough".

Some other Dorset apple cake recipes:

A recipe

Another recipe

Full text of the Barnes poem:

ECLOGUE: FATHER COME HWOME JOHN, WIFE, AN' CHILD CHILD O mother, mother! be the teäties done? Here's father now a-comèn down the track. He's got his nitch o' wood upon his back, An' such a speäker in en! I'll be bound, He's long enough to reach vrom ground Up to the top ov ouer tun; 'Tis jist the very thing vor Jack an' I To goo a-colepecksèn wi', by an' by. WIFE The teäties must be ready pretty nigh; Do teäke woone up upon the fork an' try. The ceäke upon the vier, too, 's a-burnèn, I be afeärd: do run an' zee, an' turn en. JOHN Well, mother! here I be woonce mwore, at hwome. WIFE Ah! I be very glad you be a-come. You be a-tired an' cwold enough, I s'pose; Zit down an' rest your bwones, an' warm your nose. JOHN Why I be nippy: what is there to eat? WIFE Your supper's nearly ready. I've a-got Some teäties here a-doèn in the pot; I wish wi' all my heart I had some meat. I got a little ceäke too, here, a-beäkèn o'n Upon the vier. 'Tis done by this time though. He's nice an' moist; vor when I wer a-meäkèn o'n I stuck some bits ov apple in the dough. CHILD Well, father; what d'ye think? The pig got out This mornèn; an' avore we zeed or heärd en, He run about, an' got out into geärden, An' routed up the groun' zoo wi' his snout! JOHN Now only think o' that! You must contrive To keep en in, or else he'll never thrive. CHILD An' father, what d'ye think? I voun' to-day The nest where thik wold hen ov our's do lay: 'Twer out in orcha'd hedge, an' had vive aggs. WIFE Lo'k there: how wet you got your veet an' lags! How did ye get in such a pickle, Jahn? JOHN I broke my hoss, an' been a-fwo'ced to stan' All's day in mud an' water vor to dig, An' meäde myzelf so wetshod as a pig. CHILD Father, teäke off your shoes, then come, and I Will bring your wold woones vor ye, nice an' dry. WIFE An' have ye got much hedgen mwore to do? JOHN Enough to last vor dree weeks mwore or zoo. WIFE An' when y'ave done the job you be about, D'ye think you'll have another vound ye out? JOHN O ees, there'll be some mwore: vor after that, I got a job o' trenchèn to goo at; An' then zome trees to shroud, an' wood to vell,— Zoo I do hope to rub on pretty well Till zummer time; an' then I be to cut The wood an' do the trenchèn by the tut. CHILD An' nex' week, father, I'm a-gwaïn to goo A-pickèn stwones, d'ye know, vor Farmer True. WIFE An' little Jack, you know, 's a-gwaïn to eärn A penny too, a-keepèn birds off corn. JOHN O brave! What wages do 'e meän to gi'e? WIFE She dreppence vor a day, an' twopence he. JOHN Well, Polly; thou must work a little spracker When thou bist out, or else thou wu'ten pick A dungpot lwoad o' stwones up very quick. CHILD Oh! yes I shall. But Jack do want a clacker: An' father, wull ye teäke an' cut A stick or two to meäke his hut? JOHN You wench! why you be always up a-baggèn. I be too tired now to-night, I'm sure, To zet a-doèn any mwore: Zoo I shall goo up out o' the waÿ o' the waggon.