Back in the late 40’s early 50’s, my grandmother baked in a wood fired stove and made the lightest cakes I have ever tasted.
My favorite was a yellow, very moist cake, covered with a tan almost caramel tasting buttery frosting. This, if I remember correctly, involved many egg whites being whipped by hand.
It was a wonder to behold, and all done on a behemoth of a wood stove.
She used no recipes to pass down, and children like me weren’t allowed to get near the stove.
Now I would loved to have been able to have learned from her, and have never tasted a frosting like hers.
She lived in the hardscrabble hills of Appalachia.