Cheesecake Layered Red Velvet Cake

Everything is happening at once. The NBA suspended its season. Tom Hanks has it. Schools are closing in other states. The President declared a national emergency. The grocery stores are running out of toilet paper and the pharmacy is running out of hand sanitizer and the world is running out of the thing it had the most of two weeks ago: normalcy. Normalcy is gone. Normalcy left the building faster than Elvis.

My birthday is Sunday. March 15th. I'll be twenty-eight. Twenty-eight and pregnant and watching the world shut down in real time. Happy birthday to me. I don't want a party. I don't want a cake. I want toilet paper and prenatal vitamins and the assurance that the hospital will be open in June when this baby decides to arrive. I want someone to tell me that a pregnant woman in Nashville, Tennessee, will be able to deliver her baby in a hospital with doctors and nurses and her mother in the room. I want that assurance and nobody is giving it because nobody has it because the assurance supply chain has collapsed along with everything else.

Chloe's school sent home a notice: they're closing Friday for two weeks. TWO WEEKS. (It won't be two weeks. I don't know that yet, but I know the way that institutions say "two weeks" when they mean "we don't know." Waffle House told me my waitressing job was "temporary." Lorraine told me Danny was gone "for a while." "Two weeks" is the duration that adults use when the truth is too big for a number.) Jayden's pre-K: same. Closed Friday. The kids will be home. All day. Every day. For two weeks (or forever, or something in between).

Mama called: "Am I still coming for your birthday?" I said: "Mama, you're sixty-something years old with high blood pressure." She said: "I'm coming for your birthday." I said: "The news says older people should—" She said: "SARAH ANNE MITCHELL. I am coming. For your. Birthday. I have survived your father leaving, three children alone, and thirty years at Kroger. I am not afraid of a virus." She's coming. Of course she's coming. Lorraine Mitchell is not afraid of viruses. Lorraine Mitchell is not afraid of anything except sweet pickles in potato salad.

I made Earline's full birthday spread — for myself, by myself, because the tradition doesn't stop for pandemics. Fried pork chops, mashed potatoes, collard greens, cornbread. The birthday dinner. The same one. Every year. The food holds even when the world doesn't. The food is the constant. I ate it at my table with my two kids and my belly full of a third kid and my mother on the phone singing "Happy Birthday" because she's coming tomorrow but couldn't wait and the birthday cake is in the oven and the candles are on the counter and I am twenty-eight years old and the world is falling apart and my pork chops are perfect. Both things are true. Both things are always true.

The pork chops were perfect, the collards were done, and the cornbread was cooling on the rack — but I had promised myself the birthday still counted, which meant the cake had to happen too. I’d seen this Cheesecake Layered Red Velvet Cake on a clipping Mama had tucked in her recipe box years ago, and standing in my kitchen at twenty-eight weeks pregnant with the news on mute in the background, it felt exactly right: dramatic, Southern, and completely unwilling to be practical about the circumstances. If Lorraine Mitchell could drive through a pandemic for my birthday, I could bake a cake that required three separate components.

Prep Time: 45 min | Cook Time: 50 min | Total Time: 2 hrs (plus cooling) | Servings: 16

Ingredients

Cheesecake Layer
2 (8 oz) packages cream cheese, softened
2/3 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
Red Velvet Cake Layers
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp fine salt
1 tbsp unsweetened cocoa powder
1 1/2 cups vegetable oil
1 cup buttermilk, room temperature
2 large eggs, room temperature
2 tbsp red food coloring
1 tsp white vinegar
1 tsp vanilla extract
Cream Cheese Frosting
2 (8 oz) packages cream cheese, softened
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
4 cups powdered sugar, sifted
1 tsp vanilla extract
Pinch of salt

Instructions

Make the cheesecake layer. Preheat oven to 325°F. Line a 9-inch round cake pan with parchment and grease the sides. Beat cream cheese and sugar until smooth and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each. Mix in vanilla. Pour into prepared pan and bake 30–35 minutes, until set but still slightly jiggly in the center. Cool completely on a wire rack, then freeze at least 1 hour until firm.
Make the red velvet batter. Raise oven to 350°F. Grease and flour two 9-inch round cake pans. Whisk flour, sugar, baking soda, salt, and cocoa in a large bowl. In a separate bowl, whisk together oil, buttermilk, eggs, food coloring, vinegar, and vanilla. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry and stir until just combined — do not overmix.
Bake the cake layers. Divide batter evenly between the two prepared pans. Bake 28–32 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool in pans 10 minutes, then turn out onto wire racks and cool completely.
Make the frosting. Beat cream cheese and butter on medium-high until smooth and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Reduce speed to low and gradually add powdered sugar. Add vanilla and salt, then beat on medium-high for 1 minute until light and spreadable.
Assemble the cake. Place one red velvet layer on a cake stand or serving plate. Spread a thin layer of frosting on top. Remove the cheesecake layer from the freezer and center it on top of the frosting. Spread another thin layer of frosting over the cheesecake. Set the second red velvet layer on top, pressing gently to level.
Frost and finish. Apply a thin crumb coat of frosting over the entire cake and refrigerate 15 minutes to set. Apply the remaining frosting in a thick, even layer over the top and sides. Refrigerate at least 30 minutes before slicing. Serve cold or at cool room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

Cheesecake Layered Red Velvet Cake — The Birthday Cake That Wouldn’t Wait