Smith Island Cake stands tall, smoothly coated in chocolate icing—no swirls, no rosettes, no bling. Sliced and plated it reveals its genius: pencil-thin layers of pale cake, stacked and spliced with ample icing. It’s delicious. And mysterious. I’ve always wondered, how did this glamorous cake come to dominate a remote, depopulated island?
Curious, I climb aboard the Captain Jason II, which shoves off from Crisfield, Maryland, each day at 12:30, bound for marshy Smith Island in the Chesapeake Bay. I step off at Tylerton: population 46, a clutch of crab shacks, weathered pilings, and neat white houses, each topped by a single fat seagull. There are no roads, but I don’t have far to go. At the end of the pier sits the home of Mary Ada Marshall, Smith Island’s…