I was fortunate enough to happen upon this recipe for my great-grandmother Iny’s Prune Cake a few years ago. Written by her frail, small hands, the recipe’s simplicity appealed to me, and I rushed out to buy the ingredients and prepared it the same day. “Marlboro Man will never eat this,” I thought, as I mashed up the cooked prunes according to Iny’s instructions. Anything with the word “prune” in it, I reasoned, would be instantly marked off the list.
Marlboro Man returned from working cattle a little while later and noticed the warm cake sitting on the kitchen counter. Before I had a chance to tell him the name of it, he cut himself a big piece and gobbled it up. Then he gobbled up another piece. Then he had more for dessert that night.
Since then, I’ve made this cake over a dozen times, and have never let my dear husband in on the ingredients. And today, I’m tired of living that lie.
Honey, it’s me. That delicious, gooey coffee cake I make for you so often? The one you gobble up in seconds? It’s called Prune Cake. Please forgive me.
Ahhh. I feel so much better now. Cleansed. Renewed. Redeemed.
To begin, place prunes into a small saucepan.
Cover with water, and boil until soft and mashable, about eight minutes.
Drain water, then mash prunes on a plate.
It’s okay to leave some chunks in there—gives the cake some character.
Set the prunes aside.
Sift together flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, and allspice.
Mmmm. Smells like Christmas.
In a separate bowl, mix together oil, sugar, and eggs.
Combine wet and dry ingredients together, and splash in the buttermilk. Stir together until just combined; DO NOT OVERMIX OR I’LL PADDLE YOUR BOTTOM.
After you mix the batter, gently stir in the mashed prunes. If your husband walks in as you’re executing this step, shield the bowl with your body and stir quickly. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
Pour into a buttered baking dish and bake at 300 degrees—a very low temperature for baking a cake—for 35 to 40 minutes. Grandma Iny was adamant: DO NOT OVERBAKE. Or she’ll paddle your bottom. From the grave.
We want this cake nice and moist.
When the cake has about five minutes remaining, make the icing:
In a medium saucepan over medium heat, combine sugar, buttermilk, butter, baking soda, and vanilla. Stir together as butter melts.
Bring to a slow boil. No need to continue stirring while it boils.
Continue boiling until icing turns a light caramel color, about five to seven minutes. IMPORTANT: Icing should resemble the color of caramel, but not be firm or sticky yet! The icing must be pourable.
I use a candy thermometer, and never let it reach the Soft Ball stage. Just keep your eye on it; remove the pan from heat before it starts to look like caramel.
When the cake is done (just barely!) remove it from the oven.
While the cake is very warm, pour icing evenly over the top.
Work quickly, as it will start to soak into the cake.
Spread to coat evenly…
And note: if the icing had cooked any longer and had reached Soft Ball stage, it would be very thick not easy to spread. Imagine melting a bunch of caramels and trying to spread it on a cake: it would be too thick after awhile. We don’t want the icing that thick.
Serve immediately, or feel free to let the cake sit on the counter for awhile and rest in its gooey wonderfulness. Or its wonderful gooeyness—take your pick.
You just can’t know. You can’t know until you experience it.
And I want you to experience it.
Because this cake I’m sharing with you today?
It’s probably in my Top Five Recipes of all time.
And it would make Grandma Iny so, so happy I’m sharing it with you.
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Thank you, Grandma Iny. I love and miss you every Christmas…
