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Can Cake — The Graduation Dessert That Crowned Mama’s Table

James graduated from Porter-Gaud on Friday, May 25th, 2018. He walked across the stage in a blue gown and a gold cord (honors) and received his diploma from the headmaster, who shook his hand and said something I couldn't hear but which made James smile, and the smile was the smile of a boy who has become a man in public, in front of the people who raised him, and the becoming was both the ending of something and the beginning of everything.

Mama was there. She sat between me and Robert in the third row, wearing her pearl earrings and the blue dress she wears for occasions, and she watched her grandson with the focused attention of a woman who may not remember this day in a year but who is present for it now, completely, fiercely, with every cell of her seventy-five-year-old body engaged in the act of witnessing. When James's name was called, Mama stood up and clapped, and the standing was slow and the clapping was strong, and I held her arm to steady her, and the holding was both physical and spiritual, and I thought: this is why we brought you here. So you could stand in a room and clap for your grandson and be here. Be here.

Joy was there too, in a new dress she picked out herself (pink, with flowers), and when James walked across the stage, Joy said, "James!" at a volume that was louder than appropriate and softer than her enthusiasm warranted, and the people around us smiled, because the sound of a woman calling her nephew's name with pure, unfiltered pride is a sound that makes strangers kind.

After the ceremony, we went home and I cooked the graduation dinner: fried chicken (Mama's recipe), collard greens, mac and cheese, cornbread, and for dessert, the three-layer chocolate cake. The table was set with the good china. Mama blessed the food — her voice steady, her words the same words Reverend James used to say: "For this food and for this family, we give thanks." The blessing was a bridge — from the parsonage to this table, from the pulpit to the kitchen, from a grandfather who died to a grandson who just graduated. The bridge held. We crossed it together.

James opened his gifts after dinner. Mama gave him a Bible — Reverend James's Bible, the one he preached from at Tabernacle Baptist for forty years. James held it and his hands shook and he said, "Grandma," and she said, "Your grandfather would want you to have his words," and the giving of the Bible was the giving of a voice, of a legacy, of the Simmons chain that runs from the pulpit to the dinner table to the bookstore to wherever James will carry it next.

Every part of that graduation dinner was Mama’s — the fried chicken, the greens, the blessing — but the cake was the exclamation point, the thing James asked for by name every year since he was five years old. I bake it the way Mama taught me: in cans, which sounds strange until you understand that the shape is the point, that the tall, round layers stacked on a plate look like something worth crossing a room to cut. After a day of diplomas and Bible-giving and standing in the third row watching a boy become a man, we needed something sweet enough to hold all of it — and this cake, every time, is exactly that.

Can Cake

Prep Time: 25 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 10 minutes | Servings: 10

Ingredients

  • 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 2 cups granulated sugar
  • 3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
  • 2 teaspoons baking soda
  • 1 teaspoon baking powder
  • 1 teaspoon fine salt
  • 2 large eggs, room temperature
  • 1 cup buttermilk
  • 1 cup strong brewed coffee, cooled
  • 1/2 cup vegetable oil
  • 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
  • 3 clean 15-oz tin cans (labels removed, both ends open on one side only), greased and floured
  • For the frosting: 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
  • 3 cups powdered sugar, sifted
  • 1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
  • 1/3 cup heavy cream
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • Pinch of salt

Instructions

  1. Prepare your cans. Preheat oven to 325°F. Grease the insides of three clean 15-oz tin cans generously with butter or shortening, then dust with flour, tapping out any excess. Stand the cans upright on a rimmed baking sheet.
  2. Mix dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder, and salt until fully combined.
  3. Combine wet ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk together the eggs, buttermilk, cooled coffee, vegetable oil, and vanilla extract until smooth.
  4. Make the batter. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir with a spatula until just combined — do not overmix. The batter will be thinner than a typical cake batter; this is correct.
  5. Fill the cans. Divide the batter evenly among the three prepared cans, filling each no more than 2/3 full to allow for rise. Do not overfill.
  6. Bake. Bake for 40–45 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center of each can comes out clean. The tops should spring back lightly when touched. Remove from the oven and let cool in the cans on a wire rack for 15 minutes.
  7. Unmold the layers. Run a thin knife around the inside edge of each can and gently tap the bottom to slide the cake rounds out. Allow to cool completely on the wire rack before frosting — at least 1 hour.
  8. Make the frosting. Beat the softened butter with a hand or stand mixer on medium speed for 2 minutes until pale and fluffy. Add the sifted cocoa powder and mix on low until incorporated. Add the powdered sugar one cup at a time, alternating with splashes of heavy cream, until the frosting is smooth and spreadable. Add vanilla and a pinch of salt; beat on medium-high for 1 minute more.
  9. Assemble the cake. Place the first layer on your serving plate and spread a generous layer of frosting on top. Repeat with the second and third layers. Frost the outside of the cake, smoothing with an offset spatula or the back of a spoon. The tall, cylindrical shape is the signature — let it stand proud.
  10. Serve. Slice downward through all three layers and serve at the table. This cake is best the day it is made but keeps well covered at room temperature for up to 2 days.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 620 | Protein: 7g | Fat: 28g | Carbs: 89g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 420mg

Naomi Blackwood
About the cook who shared this
Naomi Blackwood
Week 113 of Naomi’s 30-year story · Charleston, South Carolina
Naomi is a retired librarian from Charleston who spent thirty-one years putting books in people's hands and now spends her days putting her mother's Lowcountry recipes on paper before they're lost. She survived her husband's affair, her father's sudden death, and the long goodbye of her mother's final years. She cooks she-crab soup in a bowl that Carolyn brought from Beaufort, and in every spoonful you can taste the marsh and the memory and the grace of a woman who chose to stay and rebuild.

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