Jenny is in perpetual search for easy, weeknight recipes to attempt to feed her family. When they balk, she just eats more.
Is My Mom's Pineapple Upside-Down Cake a weeknight recipe? It depends a little on how much patience you have for cooling. But is it flippin’ delicious? Well, you better run to the store and get that canned pineapple people, and don’t plan for leftovers.
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I have always found it a bit curious that pineapple upside down cake has not enjoyed the culinary resurrection that so many old school desserts have luxuriated in.
In the 20 years I lived in Manhattan, I only remember seeing it on the menu once, and as my husband pointed out last night, when we returned to Time café to get it the second time, it wasn’t even good. Ditto Los Angeles.
I’ve never been served one at a dinner party. I don’t think I’ve even spotted a slice at the dessert station at Cleburne Cafeteria in Houston but if I did I would probably have ignored in in favor of buttermilk pie so don’t take my word for it.
Perhaps this neglect is due to the fact that canned pineapple sort of feels synonymous with bomb shelters, or school lunches. Also, pop the cake in the Google and some of the images that come up will be uninspiring. To wit: Pineapple upside down cake, in my view, does not want to be pale in color and insipid against the fork. It does not wish for maraschino cherries hanging around in its pineapple holes. And it does not wish to have the texture of a conventional weapon.
Instead, it wants to be dark and gooey on top, made so by a whole lot of brown sugar and butter, yet its cake part beneath somehow submissive and airy, resting under its tropical fruit life vest. It may wish to have nuts.
Having failed still to obtain a 9 inch cast iron (mine is 12 inches) I made this lovely guy in regular nine inch cake pan. The author says you must bake this in a black cast iron skillet; that is the best method no doubt but if you don’t have one you will still get a good cake out of this, I promise.
I melted the butter in the oven as it preheated right in the cake pan, and then added my brown sugar. Next came the pineapple slices; seven fit just right as Abra Bennett promised. Don’t forget to reserve your can for the juice, as you might easily read over that step.
After I’d gotten my dry ingredients into my beaten yolks and added that juice, I did whip my egg whites with a hand mixer, which I find faster than a KitchenAid when you’re doing low quantities. I would like to talk to you all further about the shortcomings of a standing mixer with eggs, but another day okay?
I did not use nuts as they have few fans chez moi; they are optional but do look pretty as you can see here.
This bakes for a while, but watch it because mine was ready to come out after 35 minutes. Yours may not be but please pay attention.
Then, there is the cooling. Serve dinner while that is happening or you won’t be able to wait. I used a knife to loosen the sides and the cake released magically onto a plate, and I served it up while we watched “You’ve Got Mail.” As Meg Ryan’s AOL dial up sounds lit up my den, so did the ohhs and ahhs for this old time dessert. One guest said it must be the pineapple juice that makes it so feathery against the fork. This could be. I’ll have to have another slice and ponder.
Serves 8 (unless you decide to eat it all by yourself)
1/2 cup unsalted butter 1 1/2 cup firmly packed brown sugar 1 cup pecan halves 1 20 ounce can pineapple slices packed in juice, reserving 5 tablespoons juice 3 eggs, separated 1 cup sugar 1 cup all-purpose flour 1 teaspoon baking powder 1/2 teaspoon salt
A New Way to Dinner, co-authored by Food52's founders Amanda Hesser and Merrill Stubbs, is an indispensable playbook for stress-free meal-planning (hint: cook foundational dishes on the weekend and mix and match ‘em through the week).