The House on Tatem Hill
Ginger B.A.M. and the taste of Christmas memory
When the holidays arrive, I don’t think about presents.
I think about spice.
Cinnamon. Nutmeg. Clove. Allspice. Ginger.
The scent alone carries me straight to Christmas,
and to one cake in particular.
The House on Tatem Hill
Long before B.A.M. lived in the ovens at Mary’s Marvelous,
there was another ginger cake.
It waited on the Christmas and Boxing Day table
at Aunt Margie’s and Grandma Tatem’s house in Bermuda,
an old limestone home perched high on Tatem Hill,
its weathered, deep forest-green shutters, the first thing I noticed when arriving,
announcing the house against the Bermuda sky.
The kitchen is what I remember most.
Still rooted in another century, never modernized,
yet alive in the truest way;
because everything that came from it was homemade.
Dense Bermudian fruit cake, its matte white shell cracking when cut.
A dark, almost black ginger cake meant for grown-ups.
Food we would now call slow—made with care, from memory.
They lived in another time.
They taught me something I would only understand years later:
cooking is a form of love,
and the kitchen is where it learns to speak.
I still salivate thinking about that cake, even now, more than fifty years later.
Grandma Tatem and Aunt Margie are gone, and the recipe seems to have disappeared with them.
So I went looking.
I’ve baked my way through countless ginger cakes trying to meet that memory.
This one comes close — dark, generous with spice, leaving a tingle behind.
At Mary’s Marvelous, I baked it as winter muffins.
My husband tasted one and immediately named them B.A.M. — the Bad Ass Muffin.
The name stayed.
This recipe is adapted from one of my most-loved baking books, Home Desserts.
I’ve baked from it for more than three decades, so often the front cover finally fell away.
I’ve included a photo in case you’d like to find a copy for yourself.
Another holiday favorite of mine is Visions of Sugarplums.
It’s currently out of print, though used editions still appear from time to time.
I’m partial to silicone pans for muffins — they make the unmolding effortless.
I’ve shared a few options below in case you’re tempted to bake a batch.