Strawberry Layer Cake with Strawberry Frosting

VBS — Vacation Bible School at New Birth. Marcus went under protest. He's eleven and considers himself "too old for Bible stories," which I told him is a sentiment he's welcome to express in approximately seven years when he's paying his own rent. Until then, he's going to VBS and he's going to learn about Moses and he's going to make a craft with popsicle sticks and he's going to like it. Or at least tolerate it. Tolerance is all I ask from a pre-teen boy in July.

Jasmine, of course, loved VBS. She came home each day with a new Bible verse memorized and a cotton ball craft that she displayed on the refrigerator like a museum exhibit. She also came home with a new best friend named Tiana, who is apparently "really good at singing" and "knows all the words to Lemonade," by which she means the Beyoncé album, not the beverage. The friendship has been fast and intense in the way that nine-year-old girl friendships always are — they are either soulmates or mortal enemies and there is no middle ground.

I taught VBS cooking class — a new thing the church is trying. Ten kids, ages eight to twelve, making no-bake cookies and fruit salad and learning how to measure ingredients. The premise was "cooking as a gift from God," which I stretched into "cooking as a way to show love to the people God put in your life." It worked. One boy, DeMarco, who hadn't spoken all week, made his first batch of no-bake cookies and carried the plate to his grandmother in the fellowship hall like he was presenting the Crown Jewels. His grandmother cried. I cried. It was a lot of crying for a Tuesday at church, but that's how it goes when you teach a child that his hands can make something good.

That VBS cooking class planted a seed. I started thinking: what if this wasn't just VBS? What if I did this regularly? A cooking class for kids — especially kids from hard situations, kids who don't have someone at home teaching them? I wrote the idea in the composition notebook that sits on my bedside table, the one where I also write Mama's recipes. I haven't told anyone about it yet. It's still small. But seeds are small.

Mama's follow-up appointment was Thursday. Everything stable. Stable is the word now. Not cured — they don't say cured — but stable. Stable means the tumor isn't growing. Stable means we keep going. Stable is a word I can build on. It's not a foundation. It's a floor. But floors are what you stand on, and I'm standing.

This week I made peach cobbler with fresh peaches because it's finally peach season in Georgia and if I used canned peaches one more time, Miss Ernestine would materialize in my kitchen to deliver a lecture on moral decay. The peaches came from a farm stand on the way to Cascade Heights — three dollars a bag, ripe and heavy, the kind that drip juice down your chin and stain your shirt and taste like everything summer is supposed to be. The cobbler was transcendent. I say this without modesty because Brenda Jackson raised me to know when my food is good, and it was good.

The peach cobbler was for the week — for Mama’s stable report, for DeMarco and his grandmother and all that Tuesday crying, for Marcus tolerating Moses with minimal complaint. But once the last cobbler square was gone, I wanted to make something that felt like a proper celebration, something tall and layered and unapologetically pink, the kind of cake that says we’re still here and that counts for something. Georgia peach season and Georgia strawberry season overlap just enough that I had a flat of strawberries on my counter and nowhere better to put them than this cake — and if Miss Ernestine has opinions about that, she can bring them to me in writing.

Prep Time: 40 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 1 hr 10 min (plus cooling) | Servings: 12

Ingredients

For the Cake:
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
3/4 cup unsalted butter, softened
1 3/4 cups granulated sugar
3 large eggs, room temperature
2 tsp pure vanilla extract
1 cup whole milk, room temperature
1/2 cup fresh strawberry puree (from about 6 oz strawberries, hulled)
2–3 drops red or pink food coloring (optional)
For the Strawberry Frosting:
1 1/2 cups unsalted butter, softened
4 cups powdered sugar, sifted
1/3 cup fresh strawberry puree, reduced and cooled (see instructions)
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
Pinch of salt
For Assembly:
1 cup fresh strawberries, sliced, for filling and garnish

Instructions

Prep your pans. Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease and flour three 8-inch round cake pans, then line the bottoms with parchment paper.
Make the strawberry puree. Blend hulled strawberries until smooth. For the cake, measure 1/2 cup and set aside. For the frosting, simmer an additional 1/2 cup puree in a small saucepan over medium-low heat for 8–10 minutes until reduced by half and slightly thickened. Cool completely before using.
Mix dry ingredients. Whisk flour, baking powder, and salt in a bowl. Set aside.
Cream butter and sugar. In a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat butter and sugar on medium-high for 3–4 minutes until light and fluffy, scraping the bowl as needed.
Add eggs and vanilla. Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Mix in vanilla extract.
Combine wet and dry. With the mixer on low, alternate adding the flour mixture and the milk in three additions, beginning and ending with the flour. Mix just until combined — do not overmix.
Fold in strawberry puree. Gently fold in the 1/2 cup fresh strawberry puree and food coloring if using. The batter will be a soft blush pink.
Bake the layers. Divide batter evenly among the three prepared pans. Bake 27–30 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean and the edges pull slightly from the pan. Cool in pans 10 minutes, then turn out onto wire racks to cool completely.
Make the frosting. Beat softened butter on medium-high until very pale and fluffy, about 4 minutes. Add powdered sugar one cup at a time on low speed. Add the reduced strawberry puree, vanilla, and salt. Beat on medium-high for 2 minutes until smooth, creamy, and spreadable. If too soft, refrigerate 10 minutes before using.
Assemble the cake. Place the first cake layer on a serving plate or cake board. Spread a generous layer of frosting, then arrange a single layer of sliced strawberries over the frosting. Repeat with the second layer. Place the third layer on top and apply a thin crumb coat of frosting over the entire cake. Refrigerate 15 minutes to set.
Frost and decorate. Apply the final coat of frosting smoothly over the top and sides. Garnish with halved or whole fresh strawberries on top. Slice and serve at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

Strawberry Layer Cake with Strawberry Frosting — When the Peaches Run Out, You Celebrate What’s Standing