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So-Easy-It's-Spooky Bat Cake — For the Porch, the Pumpkin Onesie, and the Line Drawn in Caramel

Halloween. Michael's first Halloween. He is two and a half weeks old and his costume is a onesie that says "Little Pumpkin," which Devon bought and which Kayla agreed to under the condition that no photos go on social media because "my child is not content." I respect this. Kayla is a nurse, not an influencer, and her child is a person, not a post. The onesie is for the family. The family smiled. That is enough.

I made caramel apples again — thirty-five this year, fewer than last year because my blood sugar doesn't appreciate the caramel-making process, which involves standing over a pot of molten sugar that smells like heaven and tastes like a direct challenge to my A1C. I made them anyway. I will always make them. The diabetes can have my white rice and my sweet tea and my full-butter cornbread, but it cannot have the caramel apples. That is the line. The line is drawn in caramel.

Twelve children came to the door. The child dressed as a shrimp did not return — different neighborhood, different year — but there was a very small child dressed as a taco, which is not as good as a shrimp but still food-adjacent and therefore acceptable. I gave the taco child two caramel apples and a nod of approval.

After the trick-or-treaters were done, Kayla and Devon came by with Michael. We sat on the porch — me, Denise, Robert, Kayla, Devon, and a baby in a pumpkin onesie who was asleep and did not care about Halloween or porches or the opinions of his great-grandmother about the holiday. Devon held Michael against his chest and Michael's face was pressed against Devon's shoulder and Devon's hand covered the baby's entire back, and I looked at this man — this paramedic, this flower-bringer, this father — and I thought: Earl would have liked you. Earl would have sat on this porch and said nothing and that nothing would have been everything.

Now go on and feed somebody.

Now, I told you about the caramel apples — and I meant every word — but I also had a cake on the table for when Kayla and Devon came by, because a baby’s first Halloween deserves more than one dessert and because Denise has never once in her life turned down chocolate. This bat cake is as easy as Halloween gets: you make it, you decorate it, you set it out, and people smile. That’s the whole job. That’s always been the whole job.

So-Easy-It’s-Spooky Bat Cake

Prep Time: 25 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 12

Ingredients

  • 1 box (15.25 oz) chocolate cake mix
  • 3 large eggs
  • 1/2 cup vegetable oil
  • 1 cup water
  • 1 can (16 oz) chocolate frosting
  • 1/2 cup white frosting or white decorator icing
  • 24 chocolate sandwich cookies (such as Oreos), for bat wings
  • 24 candy eyeballs or white candy-coated chocolates
  • 12 small orange candy pumpkins or gummy worms, for accent decoration
  • Black gel food coloring (optional, to deepen frosting)
  • Orange sprinkles or colored sugar, for garnish

Instructions

  1. Prepare the cake. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Grease a 9x13-inch baking pan. Combine the cake mix, eggs, vegetable oil, and water in a large bowl and beat with a hand mixer on medium speed for 2 minutes until smooth.
  2. Bake. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for 30–35 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Let the cake cool completely in the pan before frosting — at least 45 minutes.
  3. Frost the cake. Spread the chocolate frosting evenly over the cooled cake in a thick, smooth layer. If you want a deeper black color, stir a small amount of black gel food coloring into the frosting before spreading.
  4. Make the bats. For each bat, press two chocolate sandwich cookies side by side into the frosting at a slight angle to form wings. Place two candy eyeballs just above the point where the cookies meet to create the bat’s face. Repeat across the top of the cake, spacing bats evenly — you’ll fit about 8–10 bats on a 9x13 cake.
  5. Add accent details. Use a small zip-lock bag with the corner snipped off to pipe small white dots or a moon shape with the white frosting. Scatter orange sprinkles or colored sugar around the bats. Tuck candy pumpkins or gummy worms along the edges of the cake for color.
  6. Serve. Cut between the bats and serve on the porch, at the table, or wherever your people happen to be gathered. Room temperature is best. Leftovers keep covered at room temperature for up to 2 days.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 62g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 380mg

Dorothy Henderson
About the cook who shared this
Dorothy Henderson
Week 432 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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