Shropshire Soul Cake

The recipe:
4 c. self-raising flour
1 tsp. apple pie spice (mixed spice)
1/2 tsp. ground ginger
3/4 c. soft butter
3/4 c. superfine sugar (+ sprinkling)
2 eggs, slightly beaten
1/4 c. raisins
approx. 2 tbsp. milk

Method:
Preheat over to 350 F; line a baking sheet. Sift flour and spices in one bowl, while blending sugar and butter to a light and fluffy state in another. Beat the eggs into the sugar mixture, then gradually fold in the flour mixture. Add enough milk to bind the dough, roll on a floured surface to a 1/4" thickness, cut into rounds . Arrange on cooking sheet, prick with fork to make cross design and bake for approx. 15 minutes. Sprinkle with sugar and enjoy.

According to my cookbook, Shropshire soul cakes were given out on All Soul's Day to those who would go out "souling", or singing for the souls of the dead. The traditions that surround death have always fascinated me- the Victorian death and mourning traditions took up volume upon volume: the dress, the flowers, the actions-death was an art. Death is still an art-according to the National Funeral Directors Association the average cost of funeral in 2004 was $6500. The coffin takes up some thousands, then the service, the flowers, and then there's the emotional costs...and so forth. From ancient times to the modern era, the ceremonies of death have been a huge part of culture. How we treat our dead ends up reflecting on our abilities to care for another, from the end of life into the world beyond.

Is this treatment of death, doesn't society go too far? In Loved One, lives of characters revolve around the funeral home. Every description of the "Whispering Glades" memorial park and funeral home paints a picture of the most luxurious possible final resting place, which really only settles the peace of mind of the deceased's "waiting ones". The 'Loved One', unless he or she has left final instructions, really won't have an opinion on the final procedures regarding, to put it crudely, the disposal of the body. Perhaps it's only that when I die I only request a quick cremation, a lovely urn, and one heck of a wake. Specifically an Irish Wake. From what I understand, this means my friends and family left behind get drunk and celebrate the life I led, and the memories I'll leave behind. I spend part of every day wondering about the legacy I'll leave behind, and wondering how I want to be remembered. Each day is a little closer to the final end, and all I really ask is something more lasting to humanity than a stone. I believe in the ancient tradition of the name lasting through the ages. Preferably not in a hated way, but so long as I'm found in a history book, I'll be happy.