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Honey Berry Sheet Cake -- The Test Cake That Started It All

Monique's wedding is in three weeks and Denise has gone full general. There are now three folders and a whiteboard that Robert set up in the living room because Denise "needed to visualize the timeline." Robert set it up without complaint because Robert has been married to Denise for long enough to know that you don't argue with the folders. You just build the infrastructure and get out of the way.

The food plan is set. This is not going to be a Henderson wedding like Kayla's — a hundred and twenty people, fried chicken for an army. This is going to be smaller, more intimate. Sixty people. The community center. Monique wanted family-style tables with platters in the center, which is the correct way to feed people at a wedding because it forces everyone to pass things to each other, which forces conversation, which forces connection. Smart girl. She gets it from me, though Denise will claim credit.

The menu: chicken and dumplings (Monique's favorite, the thick-rolled kind), three-cheese baked mac and cheese (James's favorite, the crispy-top kind), collard greens, cornbread, a green salad because Denise insisted on something with "nutritional value" (the greens HAVE nutritional value, Denise, but I did not win that argument), and for dessert: my wedding cake. Three tiers. Butter cream frosting. The recipe from Hattie Pearl's recipe box, the same one I used for my own wedding cake, the one Hattie Pearl made with her own hands in 1976.

I am making the cake myself. Denise tried to suggest a bakery. I looked at her. She withdrew the suggestion. There are some things a grandmother does not outsource, and the wedding cake for her granddaughter is at the top of that list, right above Sunday dinner and above the annual Lowcountry boil seasoning and above the cobbler at the church social.

My knees are not enthusiastic about three days of wedding cooking. My knees have filed a formal objection. I have acknowledged the objection and overruled it. The surgery is in August. The wedding is in June. The knees will hold. They have to hold. They will hold because I am telling them to hold, and these knees have been taking orders from Dorothy Henderson for sixty-eight years and they are not going to quit now.

Made a test cake tonight. One tier. Butter cream. It was good. It was not Hattie Pearl good. Close, but not there. I will make another one tomorrow. And the day after that if necessary. The cake will be perfect or it will not exist. There is no middle ground on wedding cake.

Now go on and feed somebody.

The test cake I made tonight wasn’t Hattie Pearl’s — not yet — but it reminded me that the whole point of a test cake is to give yourself permission to bake without stakes, to feel the batter come together and know whether you’re on the right track. This honey berry sheet cake is exactly that kind of recipe: straightforward enough to make on a weeknight, honest enough to tell you the truth about where your baking stands. If you’re working toward something special — or if you just need something worth serving to the people you love — this is a good place to start.

Honey Berry Sheet Cake

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 55 min | Servings: 16

Ingredients

  • 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 2 teaspoons baking powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
  • 3/4 cup granulated sugar
  • 1/3 cup honey
  • 3 large eggs, room temperature
  • 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
  • 1 cup buttermilk, room temperature
  • 1 1/2 cups mixed fresh berries (blueberries, raspberries, and sliced strawberries)
  • 1 tablespoon cornstarch
  • For the honey glaze:
  • 1 1/2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
  • 3 tablespoons honey
  • 3–4 tablespoons whole milk
  • 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • Pinch of salt

Instructions

  1. Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Grease a 9x13-inch baking pan and line with parchment paper, leaving an overhang on the long sides for easy lifting.
  2. Mix dry ingredients. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Set aside.
  3. Cream butter and sweeteners. In a large bowl, beat the softened butter and granulated sugar together with an electric mixer on medium-high speed until light and fluffy, about 3 to 4 minutes. Add the honey and beat another 30 seconds until incorporated.
  4. Add eggs and vanilla. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Mix in the vanilla extract. Scrape down the sides of the bowl as needed.
  5. Alternate wet and dry. Reduce mixer speed to low. Add the flour mixture in three additions, alternating with the buttermilk in two additions, beginning and ending with the flour. Mix only until just combined — do not overmix.
  6. Prepare the berries. Toss the mixed berries with the cornstarch until lightly coated. This helps prevent them from sinking and keeps the batter from becoming soggy.
  7. Fold in berries and bake. Gently fold two-thirds of the berries into the batter with a rubber spatula. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and spread evenly. Scatter the remaining berries over the top. Bake for 32 to 36 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean and the edges are golden.
  8. Cool completely. Let the cake cool in the pan on a wire rack for at least 30 minutes before glazing. Do not rush this step.
  9. Make the glaze. Whisk together the powdered sugar, honey, 3 tablespoons of milk, vanilla, and salt until smooth. Add the remaining milk one teaspoon at a time until the glaze is thick but pourable.
  10. Glaze and serve. Drizzle the honey glaze evenly over the cooled cake. Allow the glaze to set for 10 minutes before cutting into squares and serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 295 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 10g | Carbs: 48g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 185mg

Dorothy Henderson
About the cook who shared this
Dorothy Henderson
Week 372 of Dorothy’s 30-year story · Savannah, Georgia
Dot Henderson is a seventy-one-year-old grandmother, a retired school lunch lady, and the undisputed queen of Lowcountry cooking in her corner of Savannah, Georgia. She spent thirty-five years feeding schoolchildren — sneaking extra portions to the ones who looked hungry — and now she feeds her seven grandchildren every Sunday without exception. She cooks with lard, seasons by feel, and ends every recipe the same way her mama did: "Now go on and feed somebody."

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