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Peach Dump Cake -- The Table Holds Itself Up Now

Bernice's Table held its fourth anniversary this September. Four years since the pandemic Tuesday when I made a pot of greens and took it to the church because I didn't know what else to do with my grief and my hands and the fact that people needed to eat. Now: a committee, a rotating roster of volunteer cooks, a Saturday morning youth class with seventeen consistent attendees, and a Tuesday evening attendance that has never dropped below fifty since we went back to indoor serving in 2021. Sister Odalys made a cake again. She does this every year and I have stopped being surprised by it and started being grateful for it as the ritual it is. Yellow cake, chocolate frosting, four candles this year.

I said something at the table that I want to write down because it surprised me when I said it. Someone asked how long I planned to keep doing this and I said: until I can't. And then I said: and then whoever is ready will keep doing it. The table does not depend on the person who built it. The table depends on everyone who shows up to it and keeps it fed. I looked around the kitchen while I was saying it: Deontay at the stove, Vivienne organizing the serving line, two young people from the Saturday class who had asked to help at the Tuesday dinner, Brother Garrison's granddaughter who had been coming for a year. These people are the table now. I built the frame. They are holding it up. Good. That was always the whole point.

Sister Odalys’s yellow cake with chocolate frosting is hers to make and mine to receive, and I would never try to replicate it — that cake belongs to her and to the ritual. But when I got home that Tuesday night still feeling the weight and the warmth of everything I’d said at the table, I wanted something golden and easy and giving, something that didn’t ask too much of me because I’d already poured everything out. A peach dump cake is exactly that: you show up, you layer what you have, the oven does the rest. Some things hold themselves up once you get them started. That’s what I was thinking about when I made this.

Peach Dump Cake

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 50 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 12

Ingredients

  • 2 cans (15 oz each) sliced peaches in syrup, undrained
  • 1 box (15.25 oz) yellow cake mix
  • 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, thinly sliced
  • 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • Vanilla ice cream or whipped cream, for serving (optional)

Instructions

  1. Preheat the oven. Heat your oven to 350°F. Lightly grease a 9x13-inch baking dish with butter or nonstick spray.
  2. Add the peaches. Pour both cans of peaches, syrup and all, into the prepared baking dish and spread them into an even layer.
  3. Add the spices. Sprinkle the cinnamon and nutmeg evenly over the peaches.
  4. Dump the cake mix. Pour the dry cake mix straight from the box over the peaches. Spread it gently with a spoon to cover, but do not stir — the layers stay separate.
  5. Add the butter. Lay the thin butter slices across the top of the cake mix in a single layer, covering as much surface as you can. The butter melts down as it bakes and creates a golden crust.
  6. Bake. Bake uncovered for 45—50 minutes, until the top is golden brown and the edges are bubbling. If the center still looks powdery at 45 minutes, give it 5 more minutes.
  7. Rest and serve. Let the cake rest for 10 minutes before scooping. Serve warm, with vanilla ice cream or whipped cream if you like.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 290 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 51g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 340mg

Loretta Simms
About the cook who shared this
Loretta Simms
Week 444 of Loretta’s 30-year story · Birmingham, Alabama
Loretta is a fifty-six-year-old pastor's wife in Birmingham, Alabama, who has been feeding her church and her community for thirty-four years. She lost her teenage son Jeremiah in a car accident, and she cooked through the grief because that is what Loretta does — she feeds people. Every funeral, every homecoming, every Wednesday night supper. If you are hurting, Loretta will show up at your door with a casserole and she will not leave until you eat.

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