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Icebox Cake -- Something Cold and Good in the Refrigerator

Late May. The summer is arriving and the campus is quiet, most students gone, only the researchers and the determined. I am both of those things. My summer classes start in June and I have been using May to catch up on research work with Dr. Ochoa that the pandemic disrupted.

I made a big batch of refrigerator pickles this week, the quick kind that do not require canning: cucumbers and onions in a brine of vinegar, sugar, salt, garlic, and dill. You pour the hot brine over the vegetables in jars and refrigerate them for twenty-four hours and they are ready. They keep for weeks. I have been eating them with everything: with eggs in the morning, alongside soup, on sandwiches. They taste like summer and preparation and the small satisfaction of having something good in the refrigerator when you open it.

Porch visit seven. Gloria stood at the door and said: I have been thinking about you in that apartment alone. I said: I have Biscuit and my roommates. She said: I know but I worry. I said: I am okay. I am more okay than you might think. She looked at me through the screen for a moment and then said: yes, I know you are. But I can still worry. I said: yes. You can still worry. She is allowed to worry. She is the person who came to my high school graduation when no one else was there. She is allowed everything.

I brought cornbread made in her mother cast iron pan. She tasted a piece through the screen door, I held it up for her, and she said: that pan makes good cornbread in anyone hands. I said: you taught me to season it right. She said: the pan taught you. Long pause. Yes. The pan taught me.

That week I kept thinking about the refrigerator — how opening it and finding something good already made felt like a small act of care for my future self. The pickles taught me that. So when I wanted something for after dinner, something that required no hovering and no heat in a May kitchen, I made an icebox cake: layered in a dish, left to soften overnight, ready when you are. Gloria would have approved. It is the kind of dessert that asks almost nothing of you and gives back more than it should.

Icebox Cake

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 20 minutes + overnight chilling | Servings: 12

Ingredients

  • 3 cups heavy whipping cream
  • 3 tablespoons powdered sugar
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 2 packages (9 oz each) chocolate wafer cookies
  • 1/2 cup mini chocolate chips, for topping
  • Optional: fresh berries or shaved chocolate for garnish

Instructions

  1. Whip the cream. In a large bowl, beat the heavy whipping cream, powdered sugar, and vanilla extract with a hand mixer or stand mixer on medium-high speed until stiff peaks form, about 3–4 minutes. Do not overbeat.
  2. Layer the base. Spread a thin layer of whipped cream on the bottom of a 9x13-inch baking dish to anchor the first cookie layer.
  3. Build the layers. Arrange a single layer of chocolate wafer cookies over the cream, fitting them as closely together as possible without overlapping. Spread a generous, even layer of whipped cream over the cookies, about 1/2 inch thick.
  4. Repeat. Continue layering cookies and whipped cream, finishing with a final layer of whipped cream on top. You should have 4–5 layers depending on your dish depth.
  5. Top and chill. Scatter mini chocolate chips over the top layer. Cover the dish tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight, or for at least 8 hours. The cookies will soften completely into a cake-like texture.
  6. Serve. Slice into squares and serve cold, directly from the refrigerator. Add fresh berries or shaved chocolate just before serving if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 340 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 22g | Carbs: 32g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 210mg

Savannah Clarke
About the cook who shared this
Savannah Clarke
Week 168 of Savannah’s 30-year story · Prattville, Alabama
Savannah is twenty-seven, engaged, and a daycare worker in Prattville, Alabama, who grew up in foster care and never had a kitchen to call her own until she was nineteen. She taught herself to cook from YouTube videos and church cookbooks, and now she makes fried chicken that would make your grandmother jealous. She writes for the girls who grew up like her — without a family recipe box, without a mama in the kitchen, without anyone to show them how. She's showing them now.

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