Mississippi Mud Cake

This is my three hundredth week of writing. I did not realize it until I sat down at the kitchen table tonight and counted back, and when I did I had to set the pen down and just sit with that for a minute. Three hundred weeks. Six years, nearly — six years of Mondays that turned into writing, six years of trying to find language for what it means to cook and feed and grieve and love in a life like mine.

I started these entries the spring Marcus got sick. He was the one who suggested I write — he said I always had something to say about everything and I should put it somewhere. He didn't live to read any of it. But sometimes I think he can, somehow. I don't know how to say that without sounding like I've lost my mind so I usually don't say it. But tonight I'll say it: I think Marcus knows what these three hundred weeks have been, and I think he would say, I told you so, which is something he liked to say, and which I would be glad to hear.

Saturday is Christmas and also my fifty-second birthday. Shanice and CJ are coming down Friday evening. Destiny and Travis are coming Saturday morning. It is Shanice's first Simms Christmas and I have been decorating and cooking and preparing as if I am trying to give her something she can carry for the rest of her life, which is exactly what I am trying to do. This house at Christmas, this table, this particular smell of cinnamon and woodsmoke and the good candles I only burn in December — I want this to be the house she will always want to come back to. I want to be that for her the way Bernice was that for me.

I baked my birthday cake: a brown sugar pound cake with a salted caramel glaze. Just for me. Fifty-two years old. Three hundred weeks. A full house on Saturday. My grandmother's cast iron on the stove. My daughter married. My son married. A table that finally holds everyone it was meant to hold. I am choosing to call this enough. I am choosing to call this more than enough.

I have been baking birthday cakes for other people my whole life, and this year I decided I was allowed to bake one for myself — something rich and celebratory and Southern enough to feel like home. A Mississippi Mud Cake is exactly that: it is not a quiet cake, it is not a restrained cake, it is the kind of cake that says something happened here, which felt right for fifty-two years and three hundred weeks and a house that is finally, fully, mine. I’m sharing the recipe below because food like this deserves to be passed on — the same way Bernice passed things on to me, and the same way I hope to pass them on to Shanice.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 40 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 16

Ingredients

1 cup unsalted butter, melted
2 cups granulated sugar
4 large eggs, room temperature
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1/4 tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups chopped pecans, toasted
1 (10 oz) bag miniature marshmallows

For the Chocolate Fudge Frosting:

1/2 cup unsalted butter
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1/3 cup evaporated milk
1 tsp vanilla extract
3 1/2 cups powdered sugar, sifted

Instructions

Preheat and prepare. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Grease a 9x13-inch baking pan with butter and dust lightly with cocoa powder, tapping out any excess.
Mix the batter. In a large bowl, whisk together the melted butter and granulated sugar until smooth. Add the eggs one at a time, whisking well after each addition. Stir in the vanilla extract.
Combine dry ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, cocoa powder, and salt. Fold the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients until just combined — do not overmix.
Add pecans and bake. Fold in 1 cup of the toasted pecans. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and spread evenly. Bake for 30–35 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out with just a few moist crumbs.
Add the marshmallows. Remove the cake from the oven and immediately scatter the miniature marshmallows in an even layer over the top. Return to the oven for 3–5 minutes, until the marshmallows are puffed and just beginning to turn golden. Remove and let stand 5 minutes.
Make the frosting. While the marshmallows are still warm, melt the butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Whisk in the cocoa powder and evaporated milk. Bring to a gentle simmer, stirring constantly, then remove from heat. Stir in the vanilla, then gradually whisk in the powdered sugar until smooth and glossy.
Frost and finish. Pour the warm chocolate frosting over the marshmallow layer and spread gently with a spatula. Scatter the remaining 1/2 cup of pecans over the top. Allow the cake to cool completely before slicing, about 1 hour. The frosting will set as it cools.

Nutrition (per serving)

Mississippi Mud Cake — Baked for the Table That Finally Holds Everyone