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Boston Cream Pie with Chocolate Glaze — The Cake I Made the Morning Caleb Marcus Came Home

Caleb Marcus Simms was born on Thursday, August tenth, at two forty-seven in the morning, weighing eight pounds two ounces, with what CJ described in the text as "a lot of opinions about being here already," which makes him, by that criterion, absolutely a Simms.

CJ called at three-fifteen. I was already awake, had been awake since two when something woke me and kept me awake and would not let me return to sleep, and when the phone lit up with his name I answered before the first ring completed. He said, Mama. He said it the way Marcus said my name sometimes — not as a word but as a landing place. I said, is she all right. He said, she's perfect. He said, Caleb is here. He said, I held him and Mama I understand now. I understand what you meant.

I drove to Huntsville at first light. Destiny and Travis were already there when I arrived, Destiny with red eyes and that particular quality of joy that has no other name than itself. Shanice was asleep in the hospital bed when I came in and CJ was holding Caleb in the recliner chair beside her, awake, with the expression of a man who has been changed and does not yet fully know in what direction. He handed Caleb to me. Eight pounds two ounces in my arms. Dark hair. Hands curled. The smell of him: the specific smell that no book has ever described accurately, that can only be experienced, that every grandmother who has ever held a grandchild has carried in some permanent way afterward.

I sat in that hospital room and held my grandson and said his whole name quietly, twice: Caleb Marcus Simms. Marcus. I felt the name land in the room the way it does when you speak the right name in the right place. Everything was right. Everything was more than right. Everything had come through.

I drove home from Huntsville with Caleb’s smell still somehow on me, which I know is not scientifically possible but I am telling you it is true, and I stood in my kitchen in the late afternoon and knew without deciding that I was going to bake. Boston Cream Pie is the cake Marcus and I made together for every arrival in this family — every birthday, every homecoming, every reason to say something good has happened here — and Caleb Marcus deserved every layer of it. It is not a quick cake. It is not meant to be. You make the custard, you wait, you bake the layers, you wait, you pour the glaze and you wait again, and all that waiting feels exactly right when what you’re celebrating is a whole new person who has just entered the world with, as his father put it, a lot of opinions about being here.

Boston Cream Pie with Chocolate Glaze

Prep Time: 35 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 2 hr (includes chilling) | Servings: 12

Ingredients

  • For the custard filling:
  • 2 cups whole milk
  • 4 large egg yolks
  • 1/2 cup granulated sugar
  • 3 tablespoons cornstarch
  • 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
  • For the cake layers:
  • 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
  • 1 cup granulated sugar
  • 2 large eggs, room temperature
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
  • 1/2 cup whole milk
  • For the chocolate glaze:
  • 4 oz semi-sweet chocolate, finely chopped
  • 1/2 cup heavy cream
  • 1 tablespoon light corn syrup

Instructions

  1. Make the custard first. Whisk together the egg yolks, sugar, and cornstarch in a medium saucepan until smooth and pale. Gradually whisk in the milk. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until the mixture thickens and just begins to bubble, about 8–10 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in the butter and vanilla until fully incorporated. Transfer to a bowl, press plastic wrap directly onto the surface, and refrigerate until cold and set, at least 1 hour.
  2. Preheat and prepare. Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease two 9-inch round cake pans and line the bottoms with parchment paper. Lightly flour the sides.
  3. Mix the dry ingredients. Whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt in a medium bowl and set aside.
  4. Cream butter and sugar. In a large bowl, beat the softened butter and sugar together with a hand or stand mixer on medium-high speed until light and fluffy, about 3–4 minutes. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each. Mix in the vanilla.
  5. Finish the batter. Reduce mixer speed to low. Add the flour mixture in three additions, alternating with the milk in two additions, beginning and ending with the flour. Mix just until combined — do not overmix.
  6. Bake the layers. Divide the batter evenly between the prepared pans. Bake for 25–30 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean and the edges have just pulled away from the pan. Cool in the pans for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack to cool completely.
  7. Make the chocolate glaze. Place the chopped chocolate in a heatproof bowl. Heat the heavy cream and corn syrup in a small saucepan over medium heat until it just begins to simmer. Pour over the chocolate, let stand 2 minutes without stirring, then stir slowly from the center outward until completely smooth and glossy. Let cool for 10 minutes to thicken slightly before using.
  8. Assemble the cake. Place one cake layer on a serving plate or cake stand. Spread all of the cold custard filling evenly over the top, going nearly to the edges. Set the second layer gently on top, pressing lightly to level. Pour the warm chocolate glaze over the center of the top layer and spread it to the edges, allowing it to drip naturally down the sides.
  9. Chill before serving. Refrigerate the assembled cake for at least 30 minutes to allow the glaze to set and the layers to settle. Slice with a sharp knife, wiping between cuts for clean slices.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 415 | Protein: 7g | Fat: 22g | Carbs: 50g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 175mg

Loretta Simms
About the cook who shared this
Loretta Simms
Week 386 of Loretta’s 30-year story · Birmingham, Alabama
Loretta is a fifty-six-year-old pastor's wife in Birmingham, Alabama, who has been feeding her church and her community for thirty-four years. She lost her teenage son Jeremiah in a car accident, and she cooked through the grief because that is what Loretta does — she feeds people. Every funeral, every homecoming, every Wednesday night supper. If you are hurting, Loretta will show up at your door with a casserole and she will not leave until you eat.

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