Orange Crush Cake

The wedding. Baby, the wedding. I need to tell you everything because I never want to forget any of it, not one single second, not the way the church smelled like lilies and candle wax, not the sound Marcus made when he saw Tasha coming down the aisle, not the way Earl held my hand so tight I thought my fingers would fall off. All of it. Every bit.

We drove to Atlanta on Friday. Denise drove. I sat in the passenger seat with the coconut cake on my lap, packed in a cooler, protected like the crown jewels. Earl sat in the back seat and slept most of the way, which is what he does in cars now — the motion puts him out. We got to the hotel at three. The room was nice. The bed was hard. I don't trust hotel pillows but I brought my own, which Denise said was "extra" and which I said was "prepared."

The rehearsal dinner was Friday night. Gloria's potato salad was on the table. My potato salad was on the table. They were side by side. People ate both. Nobody announced a winner, which means there was no winner, which means we tied, which means I need to try harder next time. Gloria caught my eye across the room and raised her glass. I raised mine. Respect. The sweet potato pie, however, was all mine. Three pies disappeared in forty minutes. Gloria said, "Dot, that pie is illegal." I said, "Thank you, Gloria. I plead guilty."

Saturday. The wedding. Marcus stood at the front of that church in a gray suit that made him look so much like Earl Jr. that I almost lost it before the music started. Tasha came down the aisle in a white dress with a long train, and she was so beautiful that the whole church went quiet — not the polite quiet of people watching, but the holy quiet of people witnessing something real. Marcus saw her and his face crumbled the way men's faces crumble when their hearts get too big for their bodies, and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, and I was done. I was crying before the vows. Earl was crying. Earl Jr. was crying. Carolyn was crying. The only person not crying was Denise, who was filming on her phone and therefore serving a higher purpose.

They said their vows. They exchanged rings. The pastor said, "You may kiss the bride," and Marcus kissed Tasha and the church erupted, and I stood up and clapped because I don't know how to sit quietly when my heart is that full. The reception was at the hotel. The food was fine — hotel food, as I predicted — but my coconut cake sat on that side table and people found it, baby. They found it and they ate it and they asked who made it and Tasha said, "That's Granny Dot's cake. That cake is better than the wedding cake." The wedding cake baker was in the room. I did not feel bad.

Marcus danced with Tasha. Earl Jr. danced with Carolyn. And then Marcus came to our table and held out his hand to me and said, "Grandma, may I have this dance?" I said, "Boy, my knees don't dance." He said, "Then we'll sway." And we swayed. Slow, careful, my grandson holding me up on a dance floor in Atlanta, and I could feel Michael in the room. I could feel Hattie Pearl. I could feel everyone who should have been there and wasn't, and I swayed with my grandson and I whispered, "Your Uncle Michael would be so proud of you." He squeezed my hand. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to.

Now go on and love somebody.

Now, I can’t give away my coconut cake recipe — that one goes to the grave with me and gets passed to Carolyn only after I’m satisfied she’s earned it — but what I can give you is the orange cake I make when the coconut isn’t right for the occasion, and honey, it is just as festive and just as crowd-stopping. Something about a bright, citrusy cake on a table full of people dressed in their finest just feels exactly right — it tastes like the way a room feels when the music starts and everybody you love is still in it. Make this one for your next celebration and don’t you dare apologize for being the best thing on the dessert table.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 55 minutes | Servings: 12

Ingredients

1 box (15.25 oz) white or yellow cake mix
1 box (3.4 oz) orange-flavored instant pudding mix
4 large eggs
3/4 cup vegetable oil
1 cup orange soda (such as Orange Crush), room temperature
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 tablespoon fresh orange zest
For the Orange Glaze:
2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
3–4 tablespoons fresh orange juice
1 teaspoon orange zest
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Heat your oven to 350°F. Grease and flour a 9x13-inch baking pan or two 9-inch round cake pans, then set aside.
Mix the batter. In a large bowl, combine the cake mix and instant pudding mix. Add the eggs, vegetable oil, orange soda, vanilla extract, and orange zest. Beat with a hand mixer on medium speed for 2 minutes, until the batter is smooth and well combined.
Pour and bake. Pour the batter evenly into the prepared pan(s). Bake for 30–35 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean and the top is lightly golden. Do not overbake — pull it when it’s just set.
Cool completely. Let the cake cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack and cool completely before glazing. If you glaze a warm cake the glaze will run right off and you will be sad.
Make the glaze. Whisk together the sifted powdered sugar, orange juice (start with 3 tablespoons and add more for your preferred consistency), orange zest, and vanilla extract until smooth and pourable.
Glaze and serve. Drizzle the glaze generously over the cooled cake, letting it run down the sides. Allow the glaze to set for 10–15 minutes before slicing. Serve at room temperature and accept every compliment with grace.

Nutrition (per serving)

Orange Crush Cake — The Cake That Outshone the Wedding Cake