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Mom's Favorite White Cake — The Lopsided Cake That Mattered More Than a Perfect One

Darnell married Keisha. In Patricia's backyard in Jacksonville, on a Saturday afternoon so hot that the officiant's forehead was dripping before he finished the first prayer. Twelve people. Masks on (except during the vows, because you can't say "I do" through a mask and have it count). Six feet of space between the chairs, which meant the "audience" was spread across the entire yard like a very small, very formal picnic.

I wore my good dress — the sage green one, because weddings deserve color, not black — and my pearls and my comfortable shoes because the yard was grass and heels are for women who haven't been on their feet since 1985. I sat in the front row (the front of three rows, each row a single chair six feet from the next) and I watched my grandson say "I do" to a woman who loves him, and I cried behind my mask where nobody could see, which is the one advantage of masks at weddings.

Kayla set up Zoom so the rest of the family could watch. Earl Jr. and Carolyn from Atlanta with Amara on the screen. Denise and Robert from Savannah. Monique and James. Keisha's family from their various living rooms. The Zoom screen was a patchwork of faces, some crying, some waving, Amara chewing on Earl Jr.'s phone, and Denise yelling, "I can't hear anything!" which was audible to everyone except Denise. Technology.

I made the wedding meal. Not the reception — there was no reception. But I drove down to Jacksonville on Friday with a cooler full of food: fried chicken, collard greens, mac and cheese, cornbread, and a coconut cake because Keisha's mother told me Keisha's favorite cake is coconut. The cake was three layers, slightly lopsided, because I am sixty-four and my hands shake more than they used to, and a lopsided cake with love in it is better than a perfect cake from a bakery. I believe this with my whole heart.

Darnell hugged me after the ceremony. Through the mask, at what was supposed to be six feet but was really two because some things can't happen from a distance. He said, "Thank you for coming, Granny." I said, "Wild horses, baby. Wild horses."

Now go on and feed somebody.

The coconut cake was Keisha’s request — or rather, her mother’s tip to me — and I wasn’t about to let a pandemic or a sixty-four-year-old pair of hands stop me from delivering it. What I start with, every time, is a good white cake: sturdy enough for three layers, tender enough to carry whatever love you press into the batter. This is that cake. Dress it up with coconut extract, press shredded coconut into the frosting, and you’ve got exactly what I drove down I-95 with in a Tupperware carrier. Lopsided is optional, but in my experience, it’s rarely avoidable.

Mom’s Favorite White Cake

Prep Time: 30 minutes | Cook Time: 30 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour (plus cooling) | Servings: 14

Ingredients

  • 3 cups all-purpose flour, sifted
  • 1 tablespoon baking powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
  • 2 cups granulated sugar
  • 5 large egg whites, room temperature
  • 1 cup whole milk, room temperature
  • 1/3 cup sour cream
  • 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
  • 1 teaspoon almond extract (optional, but recommended)
  • For the frosting: 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
  • 4 cups powdered sugar, sifted
  • 3–4 tablespoons heavy cream
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • Pinch of salt

Instructions

  1. Prepare your pans. Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease three 8-inch round cake pans, line the bottoms with parchment, grease the parchment, and dust with flour. Set aside.
  2. Whisk the dry ingredients. In a medium bowl, whisk together the sifted flour, baking powder, and salt until evenly combined.
  3. Cream butter and sugar. In a large bowl using a hand or stand mixer, beat the softened butter and granulated sugar together on medium-high speed for 4–5 minutes until very pale and fluffy. Scrape down the sides of the bowl as needed.
  4. Add the wet ingredients. With the mixer on low, mix in the sour cream, vanilla extract, and almond extract until just combined.
  5. Alternate dry and milk. Add the flour mixture in three additions, alternating with the milk in two additions (flour, milk, flour, milk, flour), beginning and ending with flour. Mix on low only until each addition disappears — do not overmix.
  6. Fold in the egg whites. In a separate clean bowl, beat the egg whites to soft peaks. Gently fold one-third of the beaten whites into the batter to lighten it, then fold in the remaining two-thirds until no white streaks remain. The batter will be light and airy.
  7. Bake. Divide the batter evenly between the three prepared pans. Bake at 350°F for 27–31 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean and the tops spring back lightly when touched. Do not overbake.
  8. Cool completely. Let the cakes rest in their pans on a wire rack for 15 minutes, then turn them out and cool completely — at least 1 hour — before frosting. Do not rush this step.
  9. Make the frosting. Beat the softened butter on medium speed for 2 minutes until creamy. Add the powdered sugar one cup at a time, mixing on low. Add the vanilla and a pinch of salt. Add heavy cream one tablespoon at a time until the frosting reaches a smooth, spreadable consistency. Beat on medium-high for 1 minute until fluffy.
  10. Assemble and frost. Place the first layer on a cake plate. Spread a generous layer of frosting on top. Repeat with the second layer. Add the third layer and frost the top and sides of the entire cake. Smooth with an offset spatula, or leave it rustic. A slight lean is not a flaw — it is character.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 415 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 20g | Carbs: 56g | Fiber: 0.5g | Sodium: 210mg

Dorothy Henderson
About the cook who shared this
Dorothy Henderson
Week 225 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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