Author: Rebecca Frey

Soon after beginning my research for this recipe, an email with the subject line “Moravian Sugar Cake” appeared in my inbox. I opened the message from my friend Nan to find a scanned handwritten recipe for Moravian sugar cake from an acquaintance who happened to be a member of the Lilitz Moravian Church in Lilitz, Pennsylvania. Vague instructions—“pat lightly,” “hole it,” and “put more butter”—were scrawled across a sheet of ruled notebook paper. “This is the old stand-by when the congregation bakes sugar cakes to sell,” Nan wrote.

Drenched in butter and topped with cinnamon sugar, the cake, which is made from an enriched yeasted dough, is often described in cookbooks as a "yeast-raised coffee cake," and though it has a cinnamon sugar topping that’s reminiscent of coffee cake, it’s slightly chewier, with a dimpled pattern that brings focaccia to mind. The sweet is a staple at church fundraisers in Pennsylvania, with many bakers relying on decades-old recipes like the one I received. Though Moravian sugar cakes are especially popular at Christmastime, churches and bakeries in Pennsylvania and North Carolina make and sell the cakes year-round.

A Brief History of Moravian Sugar Cake

In a 2019 edition of The Morning Call, Paul Peucker, a historian and archivist for the Moravian Archives in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, tells journalist Jennifer Sheehan that Moravian sugar cake recipes have been around for at least 100 years—and likely even longer than that. Though no one knows for sure, it’s possible the cake arrived with Moravians in the mid-1700s, when they made their way from Moravia and Bohemia (now the Czech Republic) to America. They settled in Bethlehem, Lilitz, Hope, and Nazareth in Pennsylvania, as well as Bethabara in North Carolina, an area around present-day Winston-Salem where many Moravians still reside today.

The sugar cake is a part of many Moravian celebrations, including “schmaus,” a meal that takes place after Moravians decorate their church for Christmas. The cake is also a mainstay at love feasts, Moravian church services with songs and devotion that are accompanied by baked goods, coffee, and chocolate milk.

According to a popular local folktale, Moravian men once scrutinized the thumbs of potential partners before they proposed: Bigger thumbs meant sugar cakes with deeper dimples, allowing for more butter and sugar to soak into the pastry, making it even more delicious. I promise, however, that it’s possible to make an excellent Moravian sugar cake regardless of the size of your thumbs. Here’s how.

How to Make Moravian Sugar Cake

Mashed potatoes are essential. Sugar cake doughs typically include flour, granulated sugar, yeast, eggs, and—perhaps in a surprising twist—mashed potatoes. Though it’s unclear why potatoes were originally included, Sheehan notes it’s possible that potatoes, which contain plenty of starch and sugar, were used to “boost the growth of yeast,” helping the dough rise faster. The potato also adds moisture to the dough, and its starchiness gives the cake its soft, slightly chewy texture.

A few recipes call for from-scratch mashed potatoes, but today, most bakers reach for instant mashed potatoes. "Although my mother used mashed potatoes and potato water [the water drained and reserved after boiling fresh potatoes], I use instant mashed potatoes," says Pennsylvanian Pat Dimmick in Betty Groff's Pennsylvania Dutch Cookbook. "I am convinced that if earlier Moravians had instant potatoes, they'd have used them, too!"

Though my recipe below calls for boiling and mashing a potato, instant mashed potatoes are a great substitute if you want to save yourself the time and effort. And if you have leftover mashed potatoes? Feel free to incorporate them into the dough. Just be sure to avoid excessively seasoned potatoes, otherwise you may end up with garlicky Moravian sugar cake.

Use a stand mixer. The most important thing to remember about this recipe is that you are not making bread. This dough will not form a firm, elastic ball, pull away from the sides of the bowl, or pass a windowpane test. Instead, the dough will resemble a soft, stretchy cake batter that remains tacky after mixing, and will stick to the mixer hook. Resist the urge to add extra flour or you’ll find yourself with actual bread instead of cake.

Because the dough is so sticky, it’s easiest to prepare this dough in a stand mixer. If you don’t have a mixer, though, you can use a bench scraper to mix the dough and pull it up the sides of the bowl, an action that serves as a makeshift mixer, moving in a way that allows some gluten development without the mess of kneading the super-sticky dough by hand. Just follow my instructions in the notes below. 

Proof the dough—and keep an eye on it. As the dough proofs, the yeast consumes the starches and sugars, releasing carbon dioxide that then helps it further rise in the oven. Keep an eye on it, though, as over-proofing (which happens when the dough has fermented for too long) can result in your cake failing to rise—or briefly rising and then collapsing—when you bake it. To check if your dough is ready, wet your finger slightly and press it into the dough. It should leave an indentation and spring back slowly. If it springs back immediately, give it a few more minutes and then test it again.

Create dimples with your fingers. To create the cake’s signature dimples, I dip my fingers in melted butter, then gently press them into the dough. You don’t want to press all the way down—just deep enough to create little pockets for the butter and sugar topping. (As the cake bakes, the smell of cinnamon sugar will permeate your home, which is reason enough to make this.)

Drench the cake in butter. The most important ingredient after potatoes? Butter—lots and lots of it—in both the dough and topping. There are multiple approaches to incorporating the butter into the cake’s topping; some bakers apply it with a pastry brush, while others place half-inch cubes of cold butter in the dimples. Some cooks scatter freeform chunks and pieces of butter over the surface of the dough. 

Each of these methods yields a slightly different result; my preferred method is to drizzle melted butter over the unbaked dough. After filling the cake’s dimples with the cinnamon sugar mixture, I use a spouted measuring cup to slowly pour melted butter over the dough, including the cinnamon sugar–filled indentations. As the cake bakes, the butter and sugar come together to form satisfyingly crunchy tunnels in the dough.

How to Serve Moravian Sugar Cake

I sampled this cake at every possible temperature—at this point I'm pretty sure my body composition is roughly 75% butter—and think it tastes best while slightly warm. Enjoy it as breakfast, an afternoon snack, or dessert with coffee or tea.

Place cut potato in a medium saucepan and cover with cold water. Set saucepan over medium-high heat and bring to a boil, then reduce heat to a gentle simmer. Cook until potatoes are tender, about 20 minutes. Using a colander, drain potatoes. Set a ricer over now-empty pot and pass potatoes through; set aside. (See notes.)

Butter an 8- by 8-inch square aluminum baking pan and a large bowl.

For the Dough: In a medium bowl, whisk flour and yeast to combine; set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer, whisk sugar, water, potatoes, butter, egg, and salt to combine. Add flour and yeast mixture and, using a bench scraper, bring ingredients together and gently knead until a lumpy paste forms, about 10 seconds.

In a stand mixer fitted with dough hook attachment, mix dough on medium speed, scraping down sides of bowl as needed, until a sticky dough forms, about 5 minutes. (The dough will cling to the hook and sides of the bowl and resemble a soft, stretchy cake batter.) See notes below for instructions for making the dough by hand.

Using nonstick cooking spray, grease bench scraper. Use greased bench scraper to turn dough out into prepared bowl. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and allow dough to rise at room temperature until doubled in size, 1 1/2 to 2 hours.

Using a greased bench scraper or greased hands, transfer dough to prepared baking pan. Gently press dough into prepared pan. Grease a piece of plastic wrap large enough to cover the baking pan; cover with plastic wrap, greased side down, and allow dough to rise until puffy and doubled in size, 45 minutes to 1 hour.

Adjust oven rack to middle position and preheat oven to 375°F (190°C).

For the Topping: In a small bowl, whisk brown sugar and cinnamon to combine. Dip fingertips in melted butter and make 25 to 30 deep indentations in the dough. Fill each indentation with a generous pinch of the sugar mixture, then press down gently with your index finger. Sprinkle dough with remaining sugar mixture. Drizzle thin rows of melted butter in a criss-cross pattern over dough, avoiding large pools or puddles as much as possible.

Bake in preheated oven until dough is a deep golden brown with crisp corners,  27 to 30 minutes. Remove cake from oven and let sit in pan on a wire rack until just cool enough to remove, about 20 minutes. Run a butter knife or an offset spatula around the edges of the pan and turn cake out onto wire rack and let cool until just slightly warm, about 30 minutes. Use a serrated knife to slice into squares. Serve warm.

Special Equipment

Medium saucepan, ricer, 8- by 8-inch aluminum baking pan, stand mixer, bench scraper, wire rack, butter knife or offset spatula

Notes

To use instant mashed potatoes, prepare them according to directions on box. Measure out 1/4 cup mashed potatoes (2 ounces; 60g) and proceed with recipe.

If using a potato masher, place potato in a medium bowl and mash with a potato masher until smooth. (Pass potato through a fine-mesh sieve to smooth out lumps if necessary.) 

To use active dry yeast: Add water to the bowl of a stand mixer. Sprinkle yeast, along with a pinch of granulated sugar and let sit until bubbly, 5 to 10 minutes. Whisk in sugar, potatoes, butter, egg, and salt. Add flour and proceed with recipe as written.

 To make the dough by hand: In a medium bowl, whisk flour and yeast to combine. In a large bowl, whisk sugar, water, potatoes, butter, egg, and salt to combine. Add flour and yeast mixture and use a bench scraper to combine. Use scraper to spread dough up sides of bowl, then bring back together in the middle. Repeat until a sticky, stretchy dough forms, about 5 minutes. Tip dough into clean, buttered bowl to rise.

The cake will fall apart if you remove it immediately after baking, but will stick to the pan if completely cool. To remove, flip upside-down onto a plate, then onto a wire rack.

Make-Ahead and Storage

Moravian sugar cake is best on the day it is made. Wrap leftover cake tightly in plastic wrap and store at room temperature for up to 1 day.

Pies are a big part of Pennsylvania Dutch Country culture: In the area around northeastern and south central parts of Pennsylvania as well as the Delaware Valley, which is where my family comes from, you'll find freshly baked pies at markets, farm stores, Amish gift shops, and makeshift stands along the side of the road. There are fruit pies, custard pies, cake pies, and milk pies. Walnut and snitz (dried apple) pies. Savory corn, parsley, and chicken pot pies. And lots and lots of whoopie pies, which aren't really pies at all. But nothing is quite as popular as shoofly pie which, as chef Betty Groff remarks in her 1990 Pennsylvania Dutch Cookbook, has got to be the “best-known pie” from the region.

What Is Shoofly Pie?

Shoofly pie is essentially a molasses pie that’s topped with a cinnamon-spiced crumble. Part of the crumble sinks into the pie gradually as it bakes, creating a cake-like layer in the middle with a gooey molasses bottom. The remaining crumble becomes a crisp, powdery topping, and the result is a confection that delivers sticky, cakey, and crunchy layers in each bite. Though you’ll occasionally see shoofly pie on dessert menus, especially at Lancaster County’s famous smorgasbords, many Pennsylvanians consider it a breakfast pie. (Old cookbooks, including Edna Eby Heller’s 1966 The Dutch Cookbook, describe the pie as “good for dunking” in a cup of morning coffee.)

In his 2013 book As American As Shoofly Pie, historian William Woys Weaver notes that shoofly pie first appeared at the 1876 Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia, where it was called Centennial Cake. The name “shoofly pie” appeared much later; though its quirky name is sometimes attributed to the act of "shooing" insects away from the sticky-sweet dish, it likely stems from the once-popular brand Shoofly Molasses Co., which in turn reportedly took its name from “Shoofly the Boxing Mule,” a circus act that toured Pennsylvania in the late 1800s. (Of course, there's a good chance that Shoofly the mule took his name from the act of shooing flies, taking the name full circle.)

There are numerous variations of shoofly pie. The 1969 Amish-Dutch Cookbook by Ruth Redcay features four shoofly pie recipes, each varying slightly in the amount of sugar, flour, and syrup to produce pies with different textures. Similarly, Heller’s The Dutch Cookbook includes three versions. “There is a shoo-fly pie to suit every taste,” Heller writes. “Dry, moist, and in-between.” Dry shoofly pies typically mix some of the flour topping into the molasses for a more cake-like consistency throughout, while the moist ones—which are commonly referred to as “wet-bottom” pies—have a satisfyingly gooey molasses layer on the bottom.

The recipe I’m sharing below is for my favorite variation: a wet-bottom shoofly pie, which has a thick layer of molasses nestled between the cake and crust after it’s baked, along with a crumbly topping for multiple layers that work beautifully together. Here’s how to make it.

5 Tips for Making Shoofly Pie

Rub shortening into the sugar and flour for the topping. The best way to prepare the crumble topping is exactly what it sounds like: rubbing flour and fat together until crumbly, just as you would for shortcake. This coats the flour with fat and limits gluten development for a delicate topping and a light, cake-like middle layer. You can use a pastry blender for this step, but I prefer to use my hands, which allows me to get a better feel for the size of the shortening and ensures the crumble has a breadcrumb-like consistency with no large chunks of fat remaining. (Small strands or pea-sized pieces are OK.) 

For the crumble ingredients, I'm a fan of the robust flavor of dark brown sugar, which contains more molasses than light brown sugar and gives the pie an even more molasses-forward flavor. You can, however, substitute with light brown sugar for a subtler tasting and lighter-colored pie. I use vegetable shortening to prepare the topping, as that is what most Pennsylvanians use, but cubes of cold, unsalted butter or lard will work just as well.

Chill the pie crust—and skip the blind bake. One of the most unfortunate things that can happen when making pie is a crust that shrinks as it bakes, leaving you with an unsightly, naked rim around the pie plate. In my recipe below, I call for chilling the crust for at least an hour, followed by a short freeze. This allows the gluten to relax and prevents the crust from contracting as the pie bakes. Freezing also guarantees that the dough remains cold when it comes in contact with the hot molasses filling, reducing the risk of the hot filling melting parts of the unbaked crust and creating a soggy bottom as the pie bakes.

To ensure the crust is crisp and properly cooked, many open-faced pie recipes instruct bakers to blind bake the crust before pouring in the filling. Traditional Pennsylvania Dutch "wet bottom" pies, however, typically do not include a blind baking step. Instead, cooks start baking the filled pie at about 400ºF or 204ºC, before lowering the temperature halfway through. This gives the crust a head start and guarantees it’s properly cooked, while the reduced temperature towards the end of baking helps to set the filling.

Use true molasses. Molasses comes in two varieties: true molasses and blackstrap. While blackstrap is bitter and salty, true molasses is smoky, bittersweet, and slightly acidic. I recommend making shoofly pie filling with true unsulphured molasses. (Sulphured molasses is typically made with green sugarcane; manufacturers often preserve the sugarcane by treating it with sulfur dioxide before the ingredient undergoes the sugar extraction process. Unsulphured molasses, on the other hand, is usually made with ripe sugarcane that’s ready for processing and is not treated with sulfur dioxide.)

Because I live in the UK, where molasses is not as readily available as it is in the US, I also tested with shoofly pie with dark corn syrup, which did not fare well. Because corn syrup is thinner than molasses, it isn’t able to withstand the weight of the crumble. The topping, as a result, sinks to the bottom too quickly, creating an overly cakey filling. 

Corn syrup also lacks the deep caramel notes of molasses, so the pie’s flavor was one dimensional and saccharine. With that in mind, I do not recommend using just corn syrup, but if you’d like a lighter, sweeter pie, you can replace some of the molasses with corn syrup in your filling. If you go that route, I recommend replacing 25% of the molasses (55 grams in my recipe below) with corn syrup. 

Another ingredient I experimented with is treacle syrup, which is slightly sweeter and thicker than molasses. Though the two syrups aren’t identical, treacle is often used in the UK to achieve a similarly sweet and smoky flavor in recipes like gingerbread or gingersnap cookies. My treacle test produced a deliciously rich, dark, and bittersweet pie that was similar enough to molasses to make it a good substitution if you have access to it and want to play with the recipe.

Bake the pie on a rimmed baking sheet. Unless you want to spend an afternoon scrubbing sticky molasses off the floor of your oven, I strongly recommend you bake your pie on a rimmed baking sheet. (Don't ask me how I know.)  A baking sheet allows you to transfer the unbaked pie from the kitchen counter to the oven with minimal sloshing. But more importantly, it will protect your oven from the hot syrup that will bubble and ooze as the pie bakes.

Let the pie cool properly. Though its gingerbread scent is enticing, do your best to resist slicing hot shoofly pie. The filling sets as the pie cools, so it’s crucial to wait until it reaches room temperature. (It's OK if the bottom still feels slightly warm, but no more than that, or you'll find yourself dealing with a liquidy mess.) It's a true test of willpower, but well worth the wait.

If using homemade pie crust: On a clean, lightly floured work surface, roll pie crust into a 12-inch circle about 1/8-inch thick. Transfer to an 8-inch aluminum pie plate with pie crust. Using a pastry brush, dust off excess flour; nestle dough into corners of pan. With scissors or kitchen shears, trim dough to edge of pie plate. Press a fork into the edges of the dough to create small indents around the entire perimeter of the pie crust. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate until cold, at least 1 hour, or up to 24 hours.

Adjust oven rack to middle position and preheat to 400°F (205°C). Freeze prepared pie crust while you prepare topping and filling, about 15 minutes.

For the Topping: In a medium bowl, whisk flour, brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, cloves, and salt to combine. Add shortening and, using your hands, rub shortening into dry ingredients until mixture resembles coarse breadcrumbs and no large pieces of shortening remain; set aside.

For the Filling: Add baking soda to a spouted 2-cup heat-proof measuring cup. Pour hot water over baking soda and allow soda to dissolve, about 10 seconds. Add molasses and whisk vigorously until molasses dissolves and liquid is foamy and bubbly, about 30 seconds. Add egg yolk and whisk well to thoroughly combine, about 10 seconds more. (The filling will be very liquid with foam on the surface.)

Set prepared pie plate on rimmed baking sheet. Pour filling over crust. Scatter topping evenly over pie filling to cover completely. (Distribute slightly more of the mixture around the outside edge; this stops the filling from bubbling over the crust and prevents a dry, sunken spot from forming in the middle.)

Bake 15 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 350°F (175°C) and bake until crust and topping are golden brown and the center no longer jiggles, 30 to 35 minutes more. Remove from oven and cool on a wire rack to room temperature, about 4 hours. Slice and serve.

Special Equipment

8-inch pie plate, rolling pin, pastry brush, rimmed baking sheet

Make-Ahead and Storage

Pie plate can be lined with dough up to 24 hours in advance, covered with plastic wrap, and refrigerated. Proceed with the recipe at step 2. 

 Shoofly pie tastes best on the day it's made. Wrap leftovers in plastic wrap and store at room temperature for up to 3 days. To freeze, wrap baked pie, including plate, in foil and freeze for up to 3 months. (Alternatively, wrap individual slices in foil.) Thaw overnight in the fridge and serve at room temperature.

Peek into a Pennsylvania Dutch cookbook and chances are you’ll come across several recipes with amusing names. There are beef tongue cookies, rivel soup (a creamy soup with dumplings), and schnitz and knepp (pork with apples and dumplings), to name a few. The silliest, though, may be funny cake pie, which you make by filling an unbaked pie crust with vanilla cake batter followed by a runny chocolate syrup. As the pie bakes, the ingredients in the filling “reverse” in the oven, resulting in a light, mildly sweet cake with a crunchy marbled top and a thick chocolate sauce on the bottom. Warm, buttery, and inviting, this quirky combination is a cake and a pie all in one.

What Is Funny Cake Pie?

Also known as funny cake, funny face cake, or funny pie, the dish is one of several novelty "cake pies" popular in Pennsylvania Dutch cuisine. (Another, Montgomery pie, pairs white cake with lemon-and-molasses syrup.) Local bakers claim that the pie’s name comes from its reversing layers, but as is the case for many beloved regional recipes, everyone’s version slightly differs. In fact, the origins of the name even sparked a lively debate amongst readers of Allentown, Pennsylvania's Morning Call newspaper.

Speaking to reporter Jennifer Sheehan in The Morning Call, historian William Woys Weaver theorizes that "funny cake" might be an Americanized version of a Pennsylvania Dutch name, or that the recipe might have been developed to encourage the use of cocoa powder. “[Weaver] did find in his research that the oldest name for funny cake is Cocoa Cake, probably due to the chocolatey layer,” writes Sheehan. “Since it depends on powdered chocolate as one of its most important ingredients, there is a distinct possibility that the cake was invented to promote a chocolate product.”

Funny cake pie recipes did indeed appear on product packaging: A 1940s advertisement for Swans Down cake flour describes the confection as “the very lightest, richest one-egg cake obtainable,” and offers recipes for orange and butterscotch sauces to fill the pie. Like Pennsylvania Dutch shoofly pie, this dish began as a "breakfast pie." These days, however, it's served for dessert, too, and I enjoy mine with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

5 Tips for Making Funny Cake Pie

Store-bought crust is fine. Because funny cake pie involves preparing both a pie crust and a cake batter, I usually streamline the process by reaching for store-bought pastry. But if you have homemade pie dough ready to go or prefer to make your own crust from scratch, that’s fine, too. 

Keep the crust cold. Regardless of whether you’re using a store-bought or homemade crust, be sure to chill the lined pie plate, which helps the gluten relax and minimizes the risk of the crust shrinking as it bakes. This also helps keep the butter as cold as possible; as the dough bakes, the butter melts, creating little pockets of steam that produce a crisp, flaky crust. Traditionally, funny cake pies aren’t blind baked. To prevent the crust from softening when you pour hot syrup into it, I recommend briefly freezing the crust before filling it. 

For easy pouring, make the chocolate sauce in a measuring cup. It’s one less bowl to wash, and, unlike a bowl, pouring from a spouted vessel allows you to control the drizzle. Start around the outer edge and work inward, following the trails in the batter as you go. Though it isn’t necessary, I recommend using a silicone mini whisk, which bends and flexes to reach the bottom edges.

Don't overmix. When mixing the batter, stop just after incorporating the dry ingredients and when there are no visible spots of flour remaining. Overmixing promotes gluten development, which can make the cake dense and tough when baked. 

Make a mess. Spoon the batter into the crust in big blobs, and don't worry if the surface is uneven or the crust peeks through in spots. Then, trail a knife through the batter to make it even more uneven. All of this messiness creates valleys for the chocolate to settle, distributing it evenly across the entire surface of the pie and creating a pretty marbled pattern.

 Cool slightly before serving—but not too much. Allowing the pie to cool for 30 minutes creates the ideal texture and temperature for serving: Moist cake with gooey, warm (but not scald-your-tongue hot) chocolate sauce. While the cake is nice, this recipe is all about the chocolate sauce, which thickens and soaks into the cake as it cools. Once the syrupy magic vanishes, it's gone for good, so be sure to enjoy it when it’s still warm for the full funny cake pie experience. If you’re working in a cool or air-conditioned space with an ambient temperature 74ºF (23ºC) or below, I recommend reducing the cooling time to 15 minutes.

On a clean, lightly floured work surface, roll pie crust into a 12-inch circle about 1/8 inches thick. Transfer to 8-inch aluminum pie plate. Using a pastry brush, dust off excess flour; use it to nestle dough into corners of pan. With scissors or kitchen shears, trim dough to edge of the pie plate. Press a fork into the edge of the dough to create small indents around the entire perimeter of the pie crust. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate until cold, at least 1 hour, or up to 24 hours.

Adjust oven rack to middle position and preheat to 350°F (175°C). Freeze pie crust while you prepare the cake batter, about 10 minutes.

For the Cake: In a medium bowl, whisk flour, baking powder, and salt together. Place butter in a separate medium bowl and, using an electric hand mixer fitted with beaters, whip butter on high speed until creamy, about 30 seconds. Add sugar and mix on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 1 minute more. Add egg and vanilla extract and mix on high speed until fully incorporated, about 30 seconds. Using a flexible spatula, scrape down sides of the bowl. Add half of the dry ingredients to the butter-egg mixture, then start mixer on low speed and gradually increase to medium speed, until no dry flour remains, about 30 seconds. On low speed, add half of the milk and mix until fully incorporated, about 30 seconds. Scrape down the bowl as needed. Repeat with remaining flour and milk, mixing until pale and creamy with no visible pockets of flour, about 1 minute. Do not overmix. Set aside. (See notes for stand mixer instructions.)

For the Chocolate Sauce: In a 2 cup heat-proof spouted measuring cup, whisk sugar and cocoa powder to combine. Add boiling water and vanilla extract and whisk until sugar and cocoa powder dissolve and no dry bits remain in the bottom of the cup, about 20 seconds. Sauce will be very fluid. (See notes.)

Spoon batter into prepared pie crust in 3 to 4 large dollops. Do not spread. Using a butter knife, swirl batter. Briefly whisk chocolate syrup to recombine, then pour over batter, beginning around outer edge then onto the knife trails in the middle. Batter should peek through in a few spots.

Bake until the crust and cake are a deep golden brown, cake is risen with a few cracks, and a cake tester or sharp knife inserted in the center comes out clean, 55 to 60 minutes. Remove cake from oven and cool on wire rack until warm but not hot, 25 to 30 minutes. Slice and serve warm.

Special Equipment

8-inch aluminum pie plate, rolling pin, pastry brush, scissors, electric hand mixer or stand mixer, flexible spatula, 2 cup measuring cup, whisk

Notes

You can also make this recipe using a frozen, unbaked pie shell.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, whip butter on high speed until creamy, about 30 seconds. Add sugar and mix on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 1 minute more. Add egg and vanilla extract and mix on high speed until fully incorporated, about 30 seconds. Using a flexible spatula, scrape down sides of the bowl. Add half of the dry ingredients to the butter-egg mixture, then start mixer on low speed and gradually increase to medium speed, until no dry flour remains, about 30 seconds. On low speed, add half of the milk and mix until fully incorporated, about 30 seconds. Scrape down the bowl as needed. Repeat with remaining flour and milk, mixing until pale and creamy with no visible pockets of flour, about 1 minute. Do not overmix. Set aside. Proceed with step 2 of recipe.

Make-Ahead and Storage

Funny cake pie tastes best on the day it is made. Leftover cake can be wrapped in plastic and stored at room temperature for up to 1 day.

The lined pie crust can be tightly wrapped in plastic and refrigerated up to 24 hours in advance. 

I do not recommend freezing the pie or making the pie ahead of time. Though the pie will be perfectly edible, you’ll lose the chocolate syrup so essential to funny cake pie, as the syrup soaks into the cake as it cools.

Every Easter, my family paints dozens of hard-boiled eggs. Some we reserve for a backyard Easter egg hunt. Others we date and sign, carefully stashing them away in egg cartons, until we bring them out again next year, meticulously unpacking and arranging them in a large glass bowl to create a one-of-a-kind centerpiece for Easter dinner. (The eggs dry naturally, with no unpleasant odor; my mom has eggs my aunt painted for her 50 years ago.) We repurpose the rest for another tradition: pickled eggs. 

In my hometown of York, Pennsylvania, beet-pickled eggs aren't just an Easter treat—they're ubiquitous year-round at picnics and potlucks. The eggs (also referred to as red beet eggs) often play a role in the Pennsylvania Dutch custom of "seven sweets and seven sours," an old custom of serving a variety of sweet and sour dishes—such as baked goods, puddings, pickles, and relishes—at every meal. You'll find red beet eggs at markets, grocery stores, diners, and buffets. If a Central Pennsylvanian mentions pickled eggs, they are almost certainly referring to the red beet kind.

Unlike eggs pickled in a white vinegar brine, red beet eggs are conserved alongside—you guessed it—red beets, which gives the eggs their vivid purple hue. The eggs first take on a pinkish tint, and by day two, the color begins to creep inside, forming a colorful ring around the outer edge of the white. After a week, the entire egg white turns a bright magenta, with the yolk eventually becoming an orangey-pink, too. Brined in a mixture of cider vinegar, water, pickling spices, and cinnamon, these eggs are sweet and tangy, and make a delicious snack or accompaniment to burgers, cold cuts, and potato salad. 

As I mentioned in my recipe for quick-pickled eggs, there are two methods people turn to when pickling: vinegar pickling and lactic-acid fermentation. Unlike fermented pickles, which can take several weeks or months, making quick pickles simply involves pouring a vinegar-based brine over fruits and vegetables, or in this case, eggs, imbuing them with tart flavor. Red beet eggs are not difficult to prepare, but my tips below will help you make ones that taste just like the ones we eat in Pennsylvania, including the ones my mom makes—a dish that I request every time I’m home.

Despite their ease, these pickles require a dose of patience: After layering hard-boiled eggs and sliced pickled beets in a jar and covering everything with hot, cinnamon-infused cider vinegar brine, pop the jar into the fridge and wait. And wait. And then—if you can bear it—wait some more.

4 Tips for Making Red Beet Eggs the Pennsylvania Dutch Way

Use already-pickled beets. My mom makes red beet eggs with home-canned pickled beets, but once those are finished for the season, she turns to store-bought beets, which is the approach I've chosen here. Eggs pickled alongside fresh beets will turn pink faster, but they take much longer to develop the pickled vegetable flavor so essential to these eggs. Fresh isn’t always best, and in my testing, I found that eggs made with already-pickled beets were not only easier and faster to prepare, but more delicious, too. Be sure to choose the pre-sliced kind, but if you only have whole pickled beets, you can slice them thinly to use in this recipe.

The best red beet eggs take on a distinct, sweet and sour pickled beet flavor. Since already-pickled beets have spent several months brining, there’s no need to wait for the beets to pickle (like you would with fresh) before they can impart that flavor to the eggs, allowing you to enjoy the finished product more quickly. Jarred beets also eliminate the messy process of boiling, peeling, and slicing fresh beets.

In both taste and method, the eggs prepared with pickled beets most closely resemble the ones I grew up making and eating in Central Pennsylvania. But if you're a stickler for fresh ingredients, or if you can't find jarred pickled beets, you can use fresh beets instead. Just be sure to let the fresh beets and eggs sit for at least seven days, as the beets will need time to pickle.

Alternate the eggs and beets. Avoid placing all the beets or all of the eggs at the bottom of the container you're pickling in; the more the beets intermingle with the eggs, the more flavor and color they'll impart. 

Infuse your brine with a cinnamon stick and pickling spices. The brine recipe is based on the one my mom makes. The key ingredient in her brine is a cinnamon stick, which infuses the brine with its sweet, spiced woodiness. Pickling spice blends are readily available at most grocery stores, and generally contain some combination of mustard seeds, cloves, black pepper, ginger, cinnamon, coriander, cardamom, bay leaf, dill, mace, allspice, and chile. I prefer one with dried chile for a touch of heat, but feel free to choose one that suits your personal preferences.

Allow the eggs to sit for at least three days. You could eat the eggs after just 24 hours of brining, but I recommend letting them sit for at least three days before digging in. It takes about a week for the whites to turn completely purple, and the longer the eggs sit in the brine, the deeper their flavor (This recipe is especially great for using up leftover Easter eggs, as the dark color of the beets makes it difficult to see the dye-stained whites.)

How to Serve Red Beet Eggs

Serve red beet eggs as an appetizer or side dish, or chop them up to add a pop of color and bright flavor to salads. Make a batch of next-level deviled eggs, or do what I do and simply eat them as a snack. And don't neglect the beets! For me, it's all about balance. (As far as I’m concerned, every egg deserves its own spoonful of beet slices to match.) A Pennsylvania family reunion just wouldn't be the same without a plateful of pickled beets and eggs, their bright purple juices mingling with the potato rolls, chow chow, and Amish macaroni salad.

In a 1-quart jar, layer sliced beets and hard-boiled eggs in alternating layers.

In a medium saucepan, stir together 1/2 cup (120ml) reserved beet pickling liquid, cider vinegar, water, granulated sugar, pickling spice, salt, and cinnamon stick. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally, until sugar dissolves, 5 minutes. Reduce heat to low and simmer until brine deepens in color and reduces slightly, about 15 minutes. Remove from heat and discard cinnamon stick.

Carefully pour hot brine, along with pickling spices, over beets and eggs to cover completely. Cool to room temperature, about 30 minutes.

Cover with a lid and refrigerate until eggs are sweet, tangy, and have a vivid purple hue, at least 3 days and up to 2 weeks. Refrigerate until ready to serve.

Special Equipment

1-quart heat-proof jar, medium saucepan

In The Simpsons, the bartender Moe always has a jar of pickled eggs at the ready. When Frankie, the health inspector, stops by the bar to conduct a routine check and samples an egg to make sure everything Moe serves is “hygienically stored,” the ill-fated inspector immediately meets his demise, falling to the floor in a dramatic, pickled-egg induced death.

Such is the lore surrounding pickled eggs, a divisive dish that often elicits unenthusiastic groans. And though the murky, bubbling jar of green liquid on the counter at Moe’s doesn’t look the least bit appetizing, pickled eggs can be delicious—and totally safe to eat—when done right. These quick-pickled eggs, which are sweet and savory with a spicy kick from black peppercorns, are truly delicious. And because they’re quick-pickled and kept in the refrigerator, extremely unlikely to kill you.

A Brief History of Pickled Eggs

Though it’s no longer as common to see pickled eggs at bars, they were once a staple snack at drinking establishments throughout Europe and the United States. It’s unclear where pickled eggs originated, as preserving eggs in vinegar was a common practice in England and much of western Europe as far back as the 16th century. Sue Shephard, author of Pickled, Potted, and Canned, notes that vinegar pickling became extremely popular in 16th century England when homemakers tired of salt-preserving. “When the English farmer’s wife had a glut of eggs,” she writes, “she would boil them hard, shell them, and pile them into earthenware or glass jars and pour over them scalding vinegar well seasoned with pepper, ginger, garlic, and allspice.” 

Pickled eggs were also a sought-after snack in 18th century Germany, and German immigrants helped spread the tradition to other countries. By the mid-1800s, jars of pickled eggs were common at German-owned bars in America, while British pubs served them alongside bags of crisps (potato chips). It’s unclear exactly why pickled eggs are so often served alongside alcohol; writing for Punch, journalist Talia Ralph suggests that there may be “some well-founded nutritional logic to the pairing of eggs and booze,” as eggs contain cysteine, an amino acid that can aid liver function, which in theory might help prevent hangovers. 

Pickled eggs may no longer be a hot ticket item, but some bars are doing their best to keep the tradition alive. The Cock Tavern in Hackney, London, still serves them—and bartenders keep a running tally on a black chalkboard of how fast their patrons can eat a pickled egg.

Some US bars still have a batch of pickled eggs on hand, too. In Austin, Texas, patrons at The Haymaker can enjoy their beer with a house-pickled habanero egg, while in New York City, Jacob's Pickles preserves theirs in a spicy jalapeño brine and serves them as an appetizer.

What Is Quick-Pickling?

There are two common methods of pickling: vinegar pickling and lactic-acid fermentation. The first typically involves submerging and preserving food in a brine of vinegar, salt, and sugar; the acidity of the solution slowly draws water out from the food via osmosis. The brine gradually penetrates the food as it sits, creating a hostile environment for harmful bacteria and making the food safe to eat. Pickles made via lacto-fermentation develop their flavor as microbes convert the natural sugar molecules into lactic acid, turning sweet into sour and reducing the food’s pH to prevent bacterial growth, thus aiding in long-term preservation.  

While other pickling methods can take weeks or months, quick pickling simply involves popping the ingredients in a jar, adding a vinegar-based brine, and refrigerating. Intended for short-term consumption, quick-pickled items must remain refrigerated at all times. Refrigeration inhibits bacterial growth and vinegar lowers the pH of preserved foods, so both the cool fridge temperatures and the acetic brine play an important role in quick-pickling. The vinegar brine also alters the flavor of the ingredients in the jar, adding a sour note often balanced by sugar, spices, or other components added to the pickling solution. 

You can quick-pickle lots of things, including asparagus, rhubarb, fennel, red onions, cucumbers, and of course, eggs. Some quick-pickles—especially vegetable recipes—use a cold brine, allowing the vegetables to retain their original texture and color. In contrast, a hot brine may cook and soften the ingredients ever-so-slightly. In the recipe below, I opt for a hot brine, as the heat helps dissolve the granulated sugar.

5 Tips for Making Quick-Pickled Eggs

Use a clean jar. While sterilization is not required for quick-pickling the way it is for traditional canning, a thorough wash with soap and water will remove any traces of bacteria, mold, or leftover food, creating a clean, safe environment for your pickled eggs. 

Use water and vinegar in your brine. Pickling your eggs in just vinegar can produce rubbery egg whites, as the acidic nature denatures and stiffens the egg white proteins as the eggs sit. Using a brine of both water and vinegar not only produces a more balanced pickling liquid, but also helps reduce the likelihood of rubbery pickled eggs. 

Use fresh dill. Fresh herbs contain flavor compounds that lose their potency during the drying process, so in this recipe, fresh is best. Plus, it’s a great opportunity to use all of that fresh dill from your summer herb garden (if you're lucky enough to have one). 

Allow the eggs to sit for at least three days. You can eat the eggs after 24 hours, but it's worth pickling for at least three days for maximum flavor. Oh, and don't worry if the garlic turns green or blue. A chemical reaction causes this unexpected color change, and it's totally normal.

Flavor to your heart’s desire. Once you've tried the basic recipe below, consider customizing your next batch by using different herbs and spices, making the brine with an alternate vinegar (such as cider or white wine), or adding vegetables to the jar. I tested this recipe with two "add-in" options: onions and jalapeño peppers. The onion-pickled eggs developed a noticeable onion flavor, while the jalapeño (my favorite!) packed a spicy punch. In addition to uniquely flavored eggs, you'll have tasty pickled vegetables, too. I added my pickled onions to a salad, and scattered the jalapeño rings on a pizza.

How to Serve Quick-Pickled Eggs

Bring quick-pickled eggs to a picnic or potluck, eat them as a snack, or go retro and serve them as an hors d'oeuvre at your next cocktail party. Turn them into deviled eggs or a sandwich or add them to a cobb or niçoise salad. I also enjoyed mine on top of ramen and in rice and vegetable bowls.

In a 1-quart heat-safe glass jar with a lid, combine hard-boiled eggs with dill and garlic.

In a medium saucepan, stir together vinegar, water, sugar, bay leaves, peppercorns, and salt. Cook over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally, until sugar dissolves, 5 minutes. Reduce heat to low and simmer until liquid reduces and darkens slightly, 10 minutes.

Carefully pour hot brine, along with bay leaves and peppercorns, over eggs, garlic, and dill. Cool to room temperature, about 1 hour.

Cover with a lid and refrigerate until eggs taste and smell vinegary and become beige, for at least 3 days and up to 2 weeks. Refrigerate until ready to serve.

Variations

To make onion-pickled eggs: Peel a small (approximately 130g; 4 1/2 ounce) white onion. Slice into thin rings. Layer with the hard-boiled eggs, then proceed with the recipe as written.

 To make jalapeño-pickled eggs: Trim and de-seed 1 jalapeño pepper (about 1 ounce; 30g). Thinly slice pepper 1/4-inch crosswise. Layer peppers with hard-boiled eggs and proceed with step 2 above. (For spicier eggs, add 1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes to the brine.)

Special Equipment

1-quart heat-proof jar, medium saucepan

Notes

You can make quick-pickled eggs in any lidded glass jar or heat-proof food storage container.

8 large hard-boiled eggs fit comfortably in a 1-quart jar, but if you are using smaller eggs, you might have room for 1 to 2 more. Avoid cramming too many eggs into the jar to provide adequate space for the brine to fully surround the eggs. 

The recipe can easily be doubled. To pickle 16 eggs, use a 2-quart heat-proof jar or two 1-quart containers. 

Make-Ahead and Storage

You can eat the eggs after 24 hours, but for maximum flavor, refrigerate for at least 3 days before serving.

This is a quick pickling recipe, and is not intended for canning or long-term preservation. Store quick-pickled eggs in the refrigerator for up to two weeks.

Growing up in Pennsylvania Dutch country, corn was always in regular rotation around our family table. The region’s rich agricultural history of growing and preserving the crop meant that there was always plenty of corn around, no matter the time of year. While indigenous people in what eventually became the Americas had long been growing corn and incorporating it into their cuisines, the Pennsylvania Dutch tradition of cooking with corn dates back to the 17th and 18th centuries, when German immigrants arrived in America. They sought to meld their culinary customs with the new ingredients available to them, resulting in what has now become Pennsylvania Dutch cuisine. 

Corn quickly became part of the Pennsylvania Dutch diet, and many cookbooks and magazines from the 19th century, including Phebe Earle Gibbons’ 1872 book Pennsylvania Dutch and Alice Morse Earle’s 1898 Home Life in Colonial Days, contain instructions for preparing corn, with the ingredient appearing in dishes like Johnny cakes, scrapple, dumplings, and corn pudding. 

As the late Edna Eby Heller wrote in her 1960 book The Dutch Cookbook, “There are more [Pennsylvania] Dutch ways of serving corn than any other vegetable, excepting potatoes.” If my childhood was any indication, she’s really not wrong. There was chicken corn soup on busy weeknights, garden-fresh corn as a summertime side, and during the holidays, a family favorite: baked corn pudding. With plenty of eggs, butter, milk, sugar, and sometimes cornstarch or flour, the dish is soft and creamy and balances the corn’s natural sweetness with just enough salt and pepper to make it a savory side.

Though corn pudding appears in many regional American cuisines—spicy green chile-inflected pudding in the Southwest, Southern spoonbread and casserole, and molasses-sweetened pudding in New England—they typically feature canned, creamed, or fresh corn. The version I grew up eating is traditionally prepared with dried corn, as drying corn and other homegrown produce was once such an important part of Pennsylvania farming culture that some homes were built with dry houses, small buildings with shelves and drawers specifically designed for drying fruits and vegetables. 

Nan Best, a family friend who grew up in the town of Brownstown in Pennsylvania’s Lancaster County, remembers her grandmother painstakingly removing the kernels from cobs of corn and spreading them onto trays that fit into a device her grandfather built to heat and dry corn. The process took several days, she recalls, and filled her home with a toasty aroma as the corn turned from vibrant yellow to deep golden brown. Best's memories are echoed by many other Pennsylvania Dutch cooks. “The operation was something of a culinary ritual,” writes Betty Groff in her Pennsylvania Dutch Cookbook. “As the corn dried on the stove in the corner of the farm kitchen, [family members] took turns staying awake all night to make sure it didn’t burn.”

 One company, Cope's, has sold dried sweet corn to Pennsylvanians for over 100 years, harvesting young corn and preserving it for a nutrient-dense dried corn; which the company describes as having a “golden color and toasted sweet corn flavor.” Cope’s is the brand Pennsylvanians turn to when they need dried corn, and some vintage Pennsylvania Dutch cookbooks even include an address so home cooks—in the pre-internet age—could order bags of the signature dried corn by mail.

A Fresh Twist on Pennsylvania Dutch Corn Pudding

To make corn pudding the traditional Pennsylvania Dutch way, home cooks soak finely ground dried corn in milk overnight to rehydrate it. While that method produces a delicious, flavorful dish, it’s a multi-day affair that simply isn’t realistic for most people. Although Pennsylvania grocery stores do carry dried corn occasionally, especially around fall and winter holidays, the kind needed to prepare this pudding the traditional way isn’t easy to source if you live elsewhere in the world. In Britain, where I now live, a search for dried corn led me to popping corn, freeze-dried corn, and plenty of chicken feed—but nothing suitable for making corn pudding. 

With that in mind, I call for fresh corn in my recipe below, making this a corn pudding that takes just one hour to prepare and is much easier to shop for. I’m not veering too far from tradition, as Pennsylvania Dutch puddings do incorporate fresh corn when seasonally available. (One of my vintage cookbooks includes options for puddings made with canned corn, dried corn, or fresh corn—three slightly different approaches to the same dish.) This version is similar to the one my family prepares: sweet and custardy, with a consistency that falls somewhere between pudding and quiche. 

With the exception of the food processor, this corn pudding is practically a one-bowl recipe that takes 10 minutes to whip up before you place it in the oven to bake. Though it’s slightly different from the dried corn pudding recipe that Nan shared with me, it’s no less delicious. When fresh corn comes into season, this is always one of the first things I make.

Adjust oven rack to middle position and preheat oven to 350°F (175°C). Generously butter a 7-inch round or a 9- by 13-inch baking dish.

In the bowl of a food processor, pulse corn kernels until thick, creamy, and some kernels are still visible, about 45 seconds. Set aside. (See notes.)

In a medium bowl, whisk cornstarch, granulated sugar, salt, and pepper to combine. Add eggs, followed by the corn, milk, and melted butter, whisking until well combined. Pour into prepared baking dish.

Bake, uncovered, until edges are golden brown and the center no longer jiggles, 50 to 60 minutes. Remove corn pudding from oven and allow to rest 10 minutes, or until cool enough to eat. Serve immediately.

Special Equipment

7-inch round or 9- by 13-inch baking dish, food processor

Notes

Removing kernels from fresh corn can be a messy affair; I do this by running a sharp knife along the sides of the cob, but feel free to employ the assistance of a corn stripper. And though some recipes suggest grating the corn, I found this technique even messier and unnecessarily labor-intensive, so I've used a food processor to blitz the kernels instead. 

The processed corn should be pulplike, with visible chunks or pieces of kernel remaining. It should not be completely puréed or liquified, or the pudding will take much longer to bake.

This recipe also works with canned or thawed frozen yellow sweet corn, and will yield a similar taste and texture. Drain the corn very thoroughly, and increase the baking time by 5-10 minutes to account for the additional moisture, or you’ll run the risk of watery pudding.

Make-Ahead and Storage

Corn pudding can be refrigerated in an airtight container for up to 3 days.To reheat, microwave on medium-high power, stirring every 30 seconds until warmed through. Alternatively, place leftovers in a baking dish and reheat, uncovered, in a 350°F (175° C) oven until warmed through, 15 to 20 minutes.

 Corn pudding can be frozen in an airtight container for up to three months. Thaw in the refrigerator before reheating in the microwave or oven.

Featuring layers of vanilla ice cream, fresh strawberries, swirls of whipped cream, and a fan wafer, the knickerbocker glory is a summer staple at ice cream parlors and seaside cafés across the United Kingdom. I first encountered the knickerbocker glory back in 2019 when I moved to London to attend pastry school and began an ongoing quest to eat my way through the repertoire of classic British desserts. Even though I discovered this sundae on the British side of the Atlantic, its name immediately reminded me of home. Turns out, there was a good reason for that mental connection, as this dessert almost certainly traces its roots to New York.

A Brief History of the Knickerbocker Glory

In his 1809 History of New York, former US ambassador Washington Irving—writing under the pen name Diedrich Knickerbocker—referred to descendants of the city’s early Dutch settlers as “knickerbockers.” This may be why countless New York buildings, businesses, and landmarks, including a Brooklyn subway station, a hotel, a housing development, and of course, the city's famous basketball team, have adopted this peculiar name. As a New Yorker, I wasn’t surprised to learn that a sundae called the “knickerbocker glory” originated not in Britain but in the Big Apple.

Although the exact history of the knickerbocker glory remains hazy, it likely dates back to the early 20th century. A recipe for a similar dessert named "The Knickerbocker" appears in The Dispenser's Formulary or Soda Water Guide, a manual for soda fountain operators published in New York in 1915. With ice cream, chocolate syrup, raspberries, cherries, whipped cream, and rose essence “served in a tall, narrow, 10 ounce, thin glass,” the dish may very well have been the blueprint for the knickerbocker glory that eventually made its way across the pond.

The London department store Fortnum & Mason claims it introduced the sundae to the country in the 1950s; the knickerbocker glory is so synonymous with the store today that it even sells sundae-shaped souvenirs. British newspaper advertisements from the 1920s and 1930s, however, reveal that the knickerbocker was around before Fortnum & Mason put it on its menu. Writing for the Scottish newspaper The Press & Journal, editor Brian Stormont notes that it’s likely the dessert “first came to prominence” in 1920s London, but wasn’t popularized until it appeared on the menu of American burger chain Wimpy’s, which opened its first British location in 1954 and sold the knickerbocker glory until 2011. 

Today, the London restaurant Dovetale offers an £18 ($23) “luxury sundae” from a high-tech tableside trolley designed by rocket engineers and equipped with carbon dioxide jets. You certainly don’t need a fancy trolley to make your own knickerbocker glory at home, though.

5 Tips for Making a Stellar Knickerbocker Glory

Like most easily customizable desserts, there’s no definitive recipe for the knickerbocker glory, but a classic one typically includes vanilla ice cream; a fruit purée, syrup, or coulis; fresh fruit; swirls of whipped cream; and a fan wafer, all served in a tall glass with a long metal spoon.

Traditional versions, including the iconic Fortnum & Mason offering, usually feature strawberries, raspberries, or a combination of the two. The white ice cream and bright red berries create a striped pattern thought to mimic the facade of the historic Knickerbocker Hotel in New York, or perhaps the long socks worn with another US export, knickerbocker breeches. 

There's plenty of room for creativity, though, and it’s not uncommon to see chefs layer in additional components, like meringue, cake, marshmallows, or fruit jelly. Other more modern takes may include poached rhubarb, roasted peaches, caramel sauce, brownie chunks, nut brittle, or honeycomb. There are even boozy variations with alcohol-infused fruit syrups and fudgy versions for chocolate lovers. With the tips below, you’ll be able to make a spectacular knickerbocker glory to suit your tastes.

Gather your mise en place. Because we’re working with ice cream, time is of the essence; the first key to success when making a knickerbocker glory is to have all the components ready to go. Once the ice cream is softened, the fruit is diced and puréed, and the cream is whipped, you can start assembling your knickerbocker glory immediately.

Soften the ice cream. For ice cream that blends easily with the berries and syrup for a swirly, striped look, you want it to be just soft enough to work with—not the firm scoops of ice cream you’d get straight out of the freezer. Aim for scoopable but not quite soft serve consistency, and definitely not runny. Any brand or flavor of ice cream will work, but traditional vanilla will likely complement the fresh berries best—and help create the sundae’s signature red-and-white pattern.

Make your own fruit purée. You can substitute store-bought strawberry sauce if you’re short on time, but it's worth taking a few minutes to make your own, which will allow you to adjust the sweetness of the purée as desired. We've written the sauce into the recipe below, and while it's quick to prep at the last minute, you can also make it up to two days in advance. 

Alternate your layers. For the prettiest sundae, alternate the syrup, fruit, and ice cream in a tall glass and use the long parfait spoon to push the fruit and ice cream outward to the edges. A sundae glass is nice and will allow you to admire your dessert, but if you don’t have one, a tall drinking glass or jar will work too. 

Get creative. Feel free to experiment with different fruits, sauces, and nuts or cookies for extra crunch. But if you’d like to stick with the classic version below, that’s perfectly fine, too. After all, you really can’t go wrong with the summery combo of vanilla ice cream, berries, and whipped cream.

Remove container of ice cream from freezer. Set aside to soften until easily scoopable but not melted, about 10 to 15 minutes. Meanwhile, prepare the other components.

In the bowl of a food processor or the jug of an immersion blender, combine 1/2 cup (70g) diced strawberries and 1 tablespoon powdered sugar. Purée until smooth, about 1 minute. Using a fine-mesh sieve set over a small bowl, strain purée, scraping and pressing with a flexible spatula to push mixture through as needed. Set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, whip heavy cream and 1 teaspoon powdered sugar, if using, on medium-high speed until stiff peaks form, about 2 minutes. (Alternatively, place heavy cream in a medium bowl and, using a hand mixer, whip heavy cream and powdered sugar, if using, on medium-high speed until stiff peaks form, about 2 minutes.) Using a flexible spatula, transfer whipped cream to prepared piping bag and refrigerate until ready to use.

Cover bottom of a parfait glass with 1 tablespoon strawberry purée. Add remaining 1/4 cup (35g) diced strawberries. Top with 1 scoop vanilla ice cream and drizzle with 1 tablespoon strawberry purée. Top with 1 more scoop vanilla ice cream and raspberries, using an iced tea–spoon to smooth ice cream and arrange fruit as needed. Top with 1 scoop vanilla ice cream and drizzle with remaining strawberry purée.

Pipe whipped cream over the sundae and garnish with a fan wafer. Serve immediately with iced tea–spoon.

Special Equipment

Piping bag, star piping tip, parfait glass, hand mixer, food processor, fine-mesh strainer, ice cream scoop, long spoon

Notes

If you don't have a parfait glass, you can assemble your knickerbocker glory in a tall drinking glass or glass jar instead.

If you can’t find fan wafers, you can garnish your knickerbocker glory with rolled wafer sticks.

Make-Ahead and Storage

You can prepare the strawberry purée up to 48 hours in advance. Refrigerate in an airtight container until ready to use.

Where I grew up in Central Pennsylvania, strawberry shortcake was a big deal. Strawberry festivals are especially popular there during the summer months, and while these celebrations offer an array of berry-centric treats—jams, pies, ice cream sundaes—strawberry shortcake almost always steals the show.

For this strawberry shortcake recipe, I started by diving into my grandmother's trusty cookbook collection, and quickly discovered that today's strawberry shortcake hasn't changed much since the days of mid-century cookbooks like Betty Crocker and Better Homes and Gardens: The shortcakes are similar to biscuits, but not exactly the same as the tall, fluffy version typically enjoyed with gravy. Instead, they're like a sweeter, cakier cousin that's rich and buttery, with a crunchy, crumbly, sugary top. Once baked until golden, they're served with a generous helping of sweet berries and thick dollops of whipped cream.

Growing up in the United States, I assumed that strawberry shortcake was an American recipe. Then I moved to England and learned that it is also a quintessentially British dessert. And in fact, the earliest shortcake references date back to the Elizabethan era. In the late 16th century, author Thomas Dawson included a shortcake recipe in one of his cookbooks. It's remarkably similar to today's versions, calling for clotted cream or sweet butter (but recommending clotted cream more), though his also adds an egg yolk as well as mace, clove, and saffron for a more spiced flavor. Not long after, Shakespeare named a character "Alice Shortcake" in The Merry Wives of Windsor, indicating an established awareness of the pastry at that time (something similar in our era would be the Peppermint Patty character in Peanuts).

Contemporary British recipes often employ self-rising flour, but otherwise, the basic equation remains the same on both sides of the pond: buttery shortcake + juicy berries + fluffy cream = one of the most beautiful ways to enjoy strawberries at their peak of ripeness.

How to Make the Shortcakes

My ideal shortcake is rich and buttery, with a tender, cakelike center that's perfect for absorbing plenty of sweet macerated strawberry juice. Shortcakes typically include milk, cream, buttermilk, or a combination of the three. I experimented with milk and cream, and found that the cream version produces a richer cake (which makes sense, since heavy cream contains the most fat).

The amount of cream is also important; I tested several flour-to-liquid ratios before landing on a dough that isn't dry, yet rises more than it spreads. The finished shortcakes won't be overly tall, but a bit of a rise is important here: Flat shortcakes are impossible to slice! 

Some recipes require a food processor, fork, or pastry cutter to incorporate the butter, but I prefer rubbing it in by hand. This helps keep tools to a minimum, and also gives the cook a better tactile sense of the butter's temperature and size. The "rubbing in" method is exactly what it sounds like—rubbing everything together with your fingertips. Like biscuits, cold butter is crucial. In a hot oven, pea-sized chunks of cold butter create pockets of steam, helping the shortcakes to rise and creating a tender, cakelike, and slightly flaky texture. Cold butter also takes longer to melt in a hot oven, so chilling the dough after working it with warm hands (or working in a warm kitchen) will help  the cakes to retain their shape as they bake.

How the shortcakes are formed varies too. I've seen a few recipes that have you bake the shortcake in a single piece, then cut it with a knife after, similar to a tray of brownies. Others have you scoop and drop a wetter shortcake dough onto a baking sheet in the style of a drop biscuit, or bake a cake-sized shortcake to serve for slicing at the table. And yet others have you stamp them out of the raw dough with a biscuit cutter before baking. My preference is to use a biscuit cutter because it produces round, evenly-sized cakes which make for a prettier plated dessert. The key to a clean cut is to use a sharp, metal cutter with an up-and-down stamping motion (rather than twisting it into the dough like a screw); periodically wiping the cutter with a paper towel guarantees clean cuts to the last shortcake.

Assembling Your Strawberry Shortcakes

Most of the work required to make strawberry shortcakes is making the shortcakes themselves. The other two components are much simpler, but they do benefit from some thought.

Simply slicing fresh strawberries and mounding them on the shortcakes with cream is an option, but not one I'd recommend. What really makes the dish sing is to macerate the strawberries with sugar first, which softens the berries and draws out their natural juices to form a flavorful syrup. This syrup acts as a sauce that allows for a much more delicious result. Some recipes suggest a 24-hour maceration, but I found four to eight hours optimal for creating enough syrup to moisten the shortcakes without drowning them in syrup.

When it's time to serve, just remember that these are meant to be rustic so don't fuss too much over a perfect presentation. The strawberry shortcakes of my childhood were crumbled in a bowl, doused with milk, and eaten with a spoon, and they were absolutely sublime. Tossed together with a bit of a free hand, and these will be too.

For the Strawberries: In a large bowl, combine diced strawberries, granulated sugar, and lemon juice and stir until well combined. Cover bowl, transfer to refrigerator, and let macerate, stirring periodically, for at least 1 hour and up to 8 hours.

Meanwhile, for the Shortcakes: Using a fine-mesh strainer, sift flour into a large bowl, then add sugar, baking powder, and salt. Whisk for 30 seconds to combine. Add butter and, using your fingertips, press the butter into the dry ingredients until mixture resembles coarse bread crumbs with some pea-sized pieces of butter remaining.

In a measuring cup, stir together heavy cream and vanilla extract. Form a well in the center of the flour mixture, then pour cream into the well. Using a wooden spoon, stir until a shaggy dough forms, about 30 seconds (you might still see some crumbly flour bits in the bottom of the bowl, that's okay).

Turn dough and any unincorporated flour out onto a lightly floured work surface. Using your hands, pat dough into a mound; this should only take 10-15 seconds as the goal is not to knead, but to gently bring the dough together. Gently pat dough into a rectangle approximately 5- by 7.5-inches in size and about 1 inch thick.

Using a 2.5-inch round biscuit cutter, punch out dough into circles; for the cleanest cuts, try to press directly down instead of twisting the cutter and periodically wipe the cutter clean with a dry towel. Using a floured metal spatula, transfer dough circles to a parchment-lined rimmed baking sheet, allowing 2-3 inches between the cakes. Bring dough scraps together with your hands and repeat the process. Transfer baking sheet to the refrigerator and chill for 30 minutes.

While shortcakes chill, preheat oven to 400°F (205°C). Once chilled, use a pastry brush to brush tops of cakes with cold heavy cream, then sprinkle lightly with Demerara sugar. Bake until shortcakes are slightly risen, golden brown, and slightly cracked on top, 15 to 18 minutes. Allow shortcakes to cool on baking sheet for 5 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack and allow to cool until slightly warm while you prepare the whipped cream.

For the Whipped Cream: To a large metal mixing bowl or the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, add cold heavy cream and whip on medium-high speed until soft peaks form, about 4 minutes. Use a fine-mesh strainer to sift in confectioners' sugar, then add vanilla extract. Whip on high speed until just combined, about 10-15 seconds.

To Assemble: Using a serrated knife, slice each shortcake in half horizontally. Place bottom halves on dessert plates. Top each with a spoonful of macerated strawberries and a dollop of whipped cream, followed by the top half of the shortcake. Top with another spoonful of berries and another dollop of whipped cream.

If desired, dust with confectioners' sugar and/or sprinkle with extra Demerara sugar (for more crunch), and garnish with fresh herbs and/or whole strawberries. Serve immediately.

Special Equipment

Pastry brush, wire whisk, serrated knife, 2.5-inch round metal cutter, metal spatula, rimmed half-sheet pan, wire rack, parchment paper, fine-mesh strainer, stand- or hand-mixer.

Notes

Refrigerate the cubed butter until you are ready to incorporate it into the flour mixture. Do not let the butter sit at room temperature or it will become too soft.

Flour countertop as sparingly as possible. A generously floured countertop can add too much extra flour to the dough, resulting in dry shortcakes. 

If your rimmed half-sheet pan does not fit in the refrigerator, you can chill the circles on a smaller parchment-lined plate or tray, then transfer to prepared sheet for baking.

A hot oven is very important, so preheat it for the entire 30 minutes the shortcakes are chilling. However, do not begin preheating until shortcakes are in the refrigerator: This is to prevent butter from softening, as the kitchen must stay as cool as possible while working with the dough.

Make-Ahead and Storage

Strawberries should macerate in the refrigerator for at least 1 hour. If desired, the strawberry mixture can be prepared up to 8 hours in advance.

Shortcakes are best enjoyed on the day they are made, and ideally while still slightly warm.

Bake the cakes no more than 4-6 hours in advance, and don't assemble the finished dessert until you are ready to serve.