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Pistachio Pudding Cake -- The Cake That Held the Holiday

March. Purim this week. The hamantaschen are made — poppy seed and apricot, as always, the triangle cookies that are my annual tribute to Sylvia's baking and the holiday's story of survival: Esther, the queen who saved her people by speaking up, by using her voice, by refusing to be silent when silence would have been easier and safer. I teach Esther's story to myself every Purim, because the reminder is relevant: speak up. Use your voice. Refuse to be silent. I am a woman who has spent forty-two years using her voice in a classroom, and in five months I will use it differently — in a book, on a blog, at a kitchen table — but I will use it. The voice is the chain. The voice is the recipe. The voice is the thing I pass forward.

I brought hamantaschen to school — bags for the faculty lounge, bags for my students, bags for the custodial staff who have kept this building running for forty-two years and who have never once been adequately thanked. Mr. Rodriguez, who has been the head custodian since 1998, said, "Mrs. Feldman, these cookies get better every year." I said, "Mr. Rodriguez, they don't get better. They've been the same recipe since 1965. You get better at appreciating them." He laughed. I laughed. The hamantaschen were distributed. The holiday was observed. The surviving was celebrated.

I made a poppy seed cake — a different use of the same filling, a rich, moist cake with ground poppy seeds folded into the batter, the taste of Purim in cake form. The cake was for Marvin and me, a private Purim celebration, two people at a table with a cake and the story of a queen who spoke up. I told Marvin the story. He listened. I don't know if he understood. The telling was for me. The cake was for both of us.

The hamantaschen were for the school, for Mr. Rodriguez, for the collective act of giving — but the cake was different. The cake was private, a small ceremony for two people at a table, and I wanted something moist and yielding and unfussy, something that didn’t demand anything of us. This Pistachio Pudding Cake is exactly that: rich without being fussy, celebratory without being loud, the kind of thing you bake when the holiday deserves to be honored quietly and well.

Pistachio Pudding Cake

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 50 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 5 minutes | Servings: 12

Ingredients

  • 1 box (15.25 oz) yellow cake mix
  • 1 box (3.4 oz) instant pistachio pudding mix
  • 4 large eggs
  • 1 cup sour cream
  • 1/2 cup vegetable oil
  • 1/4 cup water
  • 1/2 cup chopped pistachios, divided
  • 1 cup powdered sugar
  • 2–3 tablespoons milk
  • 1/4 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Instructions

  1. Preheat and prepare. Heat oven to 350°F. Grease and flour a 12-cup Bundt pan thoroughly, making sure to coat all the ridges.
  2. Mix the batter. In a large bowl, combine the cake mix, pistachio pudding mix, eggs, sour cream, oil, and water. Beat with a hand mixer on medium speed for 2 minutes until smooth and well blended.
  3. Add pistachios. Fold in 1/4 cup of the chopped pistachios with a spatula.
  4. Fill the pan. Pour the batter evenly into the prepared Bundt pan and smooth the top.
  5. Bake. Bake for 48–52 minutes, until a wooden skewer inserted into the thickest part comes out clean and the top springs back when lightly pressed.
  6. Cool. Let the cake cool in the pan on a wire rack for 15 minutes, then invert onto the rack and cool completely before glazing, at least 45 minutes.
  7. Make the glaze. Whisk together powdered sugar, milk, and vanilla until smooth and pourable. Add milk one teaspoon at a time to reach a drizzleable consistency.
  8. Glaze and finish. Drizzle the glaze over the cooled cake and immediately scatter the remaining 1/4 cup chopped pistachios over the top before the glaze sets.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 385 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 52g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 390mg

Ruth Feldman
About the cook who shared this
Ruth Feldman
Week 309 of Ruth’s 30-year story · Oceanside, New York
Ruth is a sixty-nine-year-old retired English teacher from Long Island, a Jewish grandmother of four, and the keeper of her family's Ashkenazi recipes — brisket, matzo ball soup, challah, and a noodle kugel that has caused actual arguments at family gatherings. She lost her husband Marvin to early-onset Alzheimer's and now cooks his favorite meals for the grandchildren, because the food remembers even when the people cannot.

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