Toffee Butterscotch Cake -- Mom’s Pumpkin Pie (When You Can Only Eat One Bite)

Chemo started on Monday. Round one of four AC treatments. I sat in a recliner at the infusion center with an IV in my arm and watched a bag of red liquid — adriamycin, which they call "the red devil" because it's red and because it is, in fact, devilish — drip into my veins. Scott sat next to me and read a hunting magazine. The nurse, Maria, was kind and efficient and told me to let her know if I felt dizzy or nauseous. I felt fine during the infusion. I felt fine driving home. I felt fine making dinner.

I did not feel fine on Tuesday. The nausea hit at 3 AM like a wave — sudden, total, the kind of nausea that makes you understand why they call it "sick." I threw up twice and then lay on the bathroom floor — the cool tile against my cheek, Hank pressed against my back — and waited for it to pass. It didn't pass. It settled in, took up residence, made itself at home. The anti-nausea medication helped, but "helped" is relative. It took the nausea from a ten to a six, and a six is still miserable.

Thanksgiving was Thursday. I had planned to cook — I always cook Thanksgiving dinner, even last year when Scott was on a late-season fire and it was just me and the kids and Brett. But this year, my body said no. My body, which I have spent thirty-two years ignoring and overriding, finally found a way to make me listen: it poisoned me with medicine and then refused to cooperate. I sat on the couch on Thursday morning and cried because I couldn't make the turkey. Mom drove up from Twin Falls (three hours, on Thanksgiving) and she made the turkey. She made everything — the stuffing, the mashed potatoes, the green bean casserole, the gravy, the pumpkin pie. She made Thanksgiving dinner in my kitchen, on my stove, with my pans, while I sat on the couch wrapped in a blanket and hated every minute of being taken care of because Dawson women take care of others. We do not sit on couches. We stand in kitchens.

But I sat. And Mom cooked. And Brett came, and Scott was there, and Mason helped set the table, and Lily was told to carry the napkins and dropped them twice and then put them in approximately the right places. We sat down and Dad said grace over the phone (he didn't feel well enough to make the drive, which worried me, but one crisis at a time). I ate two bites of turkey and half a roll and a spoonful of mashed potatoes, and it was the most I'd eaten in four days, and Mom watched me eat with an expression I recognized because I make it when Mason and Lily eat: relief. Pure, primal, maternal relief at watching your child consume food.

Mason went around the table and said what he was thankful for. He said: "I'm thankful for my mama, and for the doctors who are giving her medicine, and for dinosaurs, and for Hank." In that order. Lily said she was thankful for "horsies and crackers." Brett said he was thankful for family. Scott said he was thankful that I was strong, and he looked at me when he said it, really looked, and I thought: you see me. Right now, in this moment, you actually see me. Whether that will last past dessert, I don't know. But right now, he sees me.

Mom's pumpkin pie was perfect. Of course it was. It is always perfect. I ate one bite and it was enough.

That Thanksgiving, one bite of pie was enough—and somehow, that felt like a victory. In the weeks since, I’ve been thinking about sweetness in small doses, about warmth that doesn’t ask anything of you, and that’s exactly what this Toffee Butterscotch Cake is: uncomplicated comfort, the kind you can share at a table where someone finally sees you. I made it on a Sunday afternoon when Mason and Lily were loud and the house smelled like butter and brown sugar, and I ate a real slice—a whole one—and it was enough, and then some.

Toffee Butterscotch Cake

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

Ingredients

• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• 3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
• 1 cup packed dark brown sugar
• 1/2 cup granulated sugar
• 3 large eggs, room temperature
• 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
• 1 cup sour cream
• 1/2 cup toffee bits (such as Heath), plus more for topping
• Butterscotch Frosting:
• 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter
• 1 cup packed dark brown sugar
• 1/3 cup heavy cream
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Instructions

1. Preheat and prepare. Heat oven to 350°F. Grease two 9-inch round cake pans and line the bottoms with parchment paper. Dust lightly with flour and tap out the excess.
2. Mix the dry ingredients. Whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg in a medium bowl. Set aside.
3. Cream the butter and sugars. In a large bowl, beat the softened butter with both sugars on medium-high speed until light and fluffy, about 3 to 4 minutes. Scrape down the sides as needed.
4. Add eggs and vanilla. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Mix in the vanilla extract.
5. Alternate wet and dry. With the mixer on low, add the flour mixture in three additions, alternating with the sour cream (beginning and ending with flour). Mix just until combined — do not overmix.
6. Fold in toffee bits. Using a rubber spatula, gently fold in the 1/2 cup of toffee bits.
7. Bake. Divide the batter evenly between the prepared pans. Bake 32 to 35 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean and the tops are golden. Cool in the pans for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack to cool completely before frosting.
8. Make the butterscotch frosting. Melt the butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add the brown sugar and stir constantly until the sugar dissolves and the mixture bubbles, about 2 minutes. Pour in the heavy cream and salt, stir to combine, and bring back to a gentle boil. Remove from heat and let cool to room temperature, about 30 minutes.
9. Finish the frosting. Once the butterscotch base is cool, beat in the sifted powdered sugar and vanilla with a hand mixer until smooth and spreadable. If it’s too thick, add heavy cream one teaspoon at a time.
10. Assemble and top. Place one cake layer on a serving plate and spread a generous layer of frosting over the top. Set the second layer on top and frost the top and sides. Finish with a scatter of toffee bits over the top. Slice and serve at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 520 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 26g | Carbs: 68g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 280mg