Grandma’s Hickory Nut Cake

Carrie left for Fukuoka on September 1st. Robert drove her to the airport. I stayed in the kitchen. I have stayed in the kitchen for every departure — Carrie to Emory, Carrie to Kyoto, Carrie to Fukuoka — and the staying is not weakness but strategy: the kitchen is the place where I am strongest, and the strength is needed, and the need is the strategy. I stood at the stove and made she-crab soup while my daughter flew across the Pacific, and the making was the prayer, and the prayer was the soup, and the soup was the love.

She called from Fukuoka. She called from her apartment, a small place near the high school where she will teach, and her voice was the voice of a woman who is exactly where she has been going for seven years and who has arrived and who is not disappointed by the arriving, because the arriving is the fulfillment, and the fulfillment is the life she has been building since she was fifteen.

The house is two now. Robert and Naomi and Mama. The two-ness is the deepest contraction — deeper than Carrie-at-Emory, deeper than James-at-USC, because this contraction has no scheduled expansion. James visits on weekends sometimes. Carrie is on the other side of the world. Joy is at Magnolia House. The table seats two for dinner (Mama eats earlier now, with Gloria, the eating at the table too difficult for a woman who needs assistance that dinnertime conversation cannot accommodate).

I have begun submitting the cookbook to publishers. The first submission went to three small Southern presses — selected with the research skills of a librarian and the hope of a woman who has spent four years writing and who now hands the writing to strangers and asks: is this worth reading? The asking is the vulnerability. The vulnerability is the bravery. And the bravery is the book.

I made she-crab soup. The soup is the anchor. The anchor holds.

The she-crab soup was the prayer that morning, the one I said with my hands while Carrie crossed the Pacific. But in the days that followed—the quieter, longer days when the house stayed two—I found myself reaching for the other recipe that anchors me: Grandma’s Hickory Nut Cake, the one Joy used to make when she needed the whole family to feel present in one room even when they weren’t. I made it for Robert and for Mama and, if I am honest, for myself—because a woman who is submitting her cookbook to strangers and waiting for the phone to ring from Fukuoka needs something she already knows how to do perfectly, and this cake is the thing I know.

Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 1 hr | Servings: 12

Ingredients

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting pans
2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup unsalted butter, softened
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
3 large eggs, room temperature
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 cup whole milk, room temperature
1 1/2 cups hickory nuts, chopped (plus extra for topping)
For the frosting:
1 cup unsalted butter, softened
3 cups powdered sugar, sifted
3–4 tablespoons heavy cream
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Pinch of salt

Instructions

Prepare the pans. Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease two 9-inch round cake pans, line the bottoms with parchment paper, grease again, and dust lightly with flour. Tap out the excess.
Mix the dry ingredients. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt. Set aside.
Cream butter and sugar. In a large bowl, beat softened butter and granulated sugar together with a hand or stand mixer on medium-high speed for 3–4 minutes, until the mixture is pale, light, and noticeably fluffy.
Add eggs and vanilla. Beat in the eggs one at a time, scraping down the sides of the bowl after each addition. Mix in the vanilla extract.
Alternate wet and dry. With the mixer on low, add the flour mixture in three additions, alternating with the milk in two additions (flour—milk—flour—milk—flour). Begin and end with flour. Mix only until just combined after each addition—do not overmix.
Fold in the nuts. Using a rubber spatula, gently fold in the chopped hickory nuts until evenly distributed throughout the batter.
Bake. Divide the batter evenly between the prepared pans and smooth the tops. Bake for 30–35 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean and the edges have just pulled away from the sides of the pan. Do not overbake.
Cool. Let the cakes cool in the pans on wire racks for 15 minutes, then turn them out onto the racks and allow to cool completely before frosting, at least 45 minutes.
Make the frosting. Beat softened butter on medium-high speed until very light and creamy, about 3 minutes. Add sifted powdered sugar, 1 cup at a time, beating well after each addition. Add heavy cream one tablespoon at a time until frosting reaches a smooth, spreadable consistency. Beat in vanilla and salt. Taste and adjust sweetness if needed.
Frost and finish. Place one cake layer on a serving plate and spread a generous layer of frosting across the top. Set the second layer on top and frost the top and sides of the assembled cake. Press additional chopped hickory nuts along the top and sides as a garnish. Slice and serve at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

Grandma’s Hickory Nut Cake — The Anchor Recipe That Holds When the House Goes Quiet