Vanilla Pudding Cake {From-Scratch}

Six months. Six months since Easter Sunday. Six months since the ham timer went off and my mother was gone and the kitchen kept going because kitchens don't stop for death, they just change who's standing at the stove. I didn't mark the date on the calendar. I didn't need to. My body knew. I woke up Sunday morning and my first thought was "I need to call Mama" and my second thought was the correction, and the space between those two thoughts — one second, maybe two — is where grief lives. In the gap between reaching and remembering.

I went to the cemetery after church. Alone this time. Mama's headstone is in now — simple, grey granite, her name and dates and the inscription I chose: "She fed the world." Three words. Not enough. Too much. Exactly right. I sat on the grass and told her about the girls. About Diamond's cornbread. About Marcus making debate co-captain. About Curtis's tomatoes. I talked for an hour. She didn't answer, but the wind moved and the leaves shifted and I am choosing to believe that Brenda Jackson is adjusting the seasoning from wherever she is.

Jasmine's choir concert is next week. She's been rehearsing at home, which means the house is filled with the sound of forty children's songs that she practices in her room with the door open because she wants me to hear, even if she'd never admit it. I hear. I always hear. She's getting better — her pitch is cleaner, her breath control stronger, the voice maturing from sweet to substantial. She's ten in December. Double digits. The last year of single digits is almost over and I'm not ready.

Made apple crisp for the first time this season — the signal that fall is real. Granny Smith apples, brown sugar, oats, butter, cinnamon, a whisper of nutmeg (Mama's margin note, the one that still makes me smile every time). Baked until the top is golden and the apples are bubbling and the kitchen smells like September should smell. Marcus asked for ice cream on top. I obliged. Curtis, at Saturday dinner, ate two servings and said, "Your mama used more cinnamon." I said, "I used nutmeg instead." He looked at me. He considered this. He said, "Hm." From Curtis Jackson, "hm" is a complete review: noted, considered, filed for future reference. He didn't say it was wrong. He said "hm." I'll take it.

The apple crisp is already in the story — Curtis’s “hm,” Marcus’s ice cream, Mama’s nutmeg note in the margin — and I wasn’t going to hand you that recipe because it’s not finished yet, not really, not while I’m still adjusting the cinnamon-to-nutmeg ratio year by year. What I will give you is this: the vanilla pudding cake I made the following Saturday when there was still a chill in the kitchen and I needed something from scratch that didn’t require me to think too hard. This one is simple, warm, and deeply forgiving — a cake that sets up beautifully even when your mind is somewhere else entirely, somewhere between a cemetery and a choir rehearsal and the quiet word “hm.”

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 40 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 9

Ingredients

For the cake batter:
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 cup granulated sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup whole milk
1/3 cup unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled
1 large egg
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
For the pudding layer:
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3 tablespoons cornstarch
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 1/4 cups whole milk
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
For serving (optional):
Whipped cream or vanilla ice cream
A pinch of ground nutmeg

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Lightly butter an 8x8-inch or 9x9-inch baking dish and set aside.
Make the pudding layer. In a medium saucepan, whisk together the sugar, cornstarch, and salt. Gradually pour in the milk, whisking until smooth. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, for 8 to 10 minutes until the mixture thickens and just begins to bubble. Remove from heat and stir in the butter and vanilla. Set aside to cool slightly while you make the batter.
Mix the cake batter. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. In a separate small bowl, whisk together the milk, melted butter, egg, and vanilla. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir until just combined — a few lumps are fine.
Layer and bake. Spread the cake batter evenly into the prepared baking dish. Carefully pour the warm pudding over the top of the batter. Do not stir — the layers will do their work in the oven, the batter rising up through the pudding as it bakes.
Bake. Bake for 38 to 42 minutes, until the top is set and golden and the edges pull slightly from the sides of the pan. The center will look soft — that’s the pudding layer doing exactly what it’s supposed to do.
Rest and serve. Let the cake cool in the pan for at least 15 minutes before serving. Spoon into bowls so you catch both the cake and the pudding beneath it. Serve warm with whipped cream or a scoop of vanilla ice cream, and a pinch of nutmeg on top if the mood calls for it.

Nutrition (per serving)

Vanilla Pudding Cake {From-Scratch} — The Kitchen That Keeps Going