This is the third part of my continuing series about my mom’s diary.
Mom loved to bake. I can’t remember a time when our house didn’t smell of something sweet—cakes, cookies, pies, or cream puffs fresh from the oven. I lost count of the times I sat at the kitchen table, watching her beat eggs in that big ceramic bowl, preparing the batter for her angel food cake. Or when she poured dough into oversized pans for sheet cakes to share. And then there was her devil’s food cake with that magical white icing that seemed to vanish into the surface. I just assumed every mom baked like that. Her diary revealed what might have fueled that passion.
April 10, 1934 – “Mother and I went to Igleheart’s Cooking School this afternoon – gee it’s swell! The teacher bakes four cakes, then we get to sample them all.”
Evansville, Indiana, is where the Igleheart Cooking School started. Located along the Ohio River and near the convergence of the Wabash and Erie Canal, Evansville was ideally situated for trade and industry. It was here in 1853 that three brothers—Levi, William, and Asa Igleheart—established a barrel mill, which transitioned into grain milling by 1856.
Their sons—Addison, John, and Leslie—continued the family business, which achieved worldwide recognition in 1894 when Addison developed Swans Down Cake Flour. This flour, marketed as being 'as soft as the down of a swan,' became a beloved staple for bakers across the country. Swans Down even won the grand prize for cake flour at the 1904 World’s Fair in St. Louis.
By 1914, Igleheart Brothers was producing fourteen hundred barrels of Swans Down daily—nearly a million pounds of flour each week. The company’s success caught the attention of the CW Postum Company, which acquired Igleheart Brothers in 1926. Though it became part of what would later be General Foods, the Evansville location remained at the heart of operations.
Recognizing that education was key to customer loyalty, Igleheart Brothers launched an experimental kitchen and domestic science department in 1925. This initiative led to the establishment of the Igleheart Cooking School, which empowered home bakers—especially women—to create consistently successful cakes using Swans Down Cake Flour. The school became an important part of the community, offering hands-on instruction that made professional-quality baking accessible to everyday cooks. The classes took place in the auditorium which seated 77 people. According to the Evansville Journal on December 30, 1931, more than 27,000 people attended the classes during the program’s first five years.
Grace Steinhauer, a graduate of the Fanny Farmer Cooking School in Boston, served as director of domestic science at Igleheart from 1926 through 1934. Her engaging demonstrations were the highlight of the 10-week course. She never used the same recipes in her classes, so the women would often come back every year. After she married and moved from Evansville, she would often return to teach at special events.
The company also produced several recipe booklets over the years, including Cake Secrets. One of the first of this series was published in 1904 and included recipes with “secrets” listed at the bottom of the pages.
Mom’s additional diary entries:
April 17, 1934 – “Igleheart Cooking School. They made pies today.”
May 1, 1934 – “I didn’t like the things they fixed today at cooking school – sausage. Here’s hoping they have better next time.”
May 8, 1934 – “This afternoon was the fifth meeting of the cooking class.”
May 22, 1934 – “Today was cooking school. The teacher gave us a lesson on cake decorating – just my line. She sure was good. But she didn’t have much for us to eat.”
I remember Mom’s decorated cakes—they were true works of art. It’s no surprise that my sister, Mari, went on to own a cake-decorating business. In a 1980 article in the Anniston Star (Alabama), Mari credited our mother as the source of her talent, recalling how Mom frequently baked and beautifully decorated cakes.
June 12, 1934 – “This afternoon was the last of cooking school. We got our diplomas, and she made a bunch of nice things.”
The cooking school was more than just an afternoon diversion—it sparked a lifelong love of baking. Mom found joy not only in the finished cakes but in the entire process: measuring, mixing, decorating, and, of course, sampling. Her creations weren’t reserved for just our family; she often shared them with the neighborhood children who gathered at our house.
Mom’s passion didn’t just influence my sister. I also inherited a love of baking, though my heart leaned toward pies, breads, and cookies.
While the diploma marked the end of those sessions, it also signaled the beginning of something lasting: Mom’s identity as a baker, a role that became a meaningful and enduring part of her life—and mine.
We seem to be on parallel topics here, benefiting from the legacy of mothers and aunts. The recipe books with cakes are treasures, Lynda!