Peanut Butter Cake. Nuff Said.

Yes, I recognize that the posting of this recipe less than 24 hours behind my Ripped in 30 update is nonsensical. The fact that I am posting something nonsensical is not news to you, so lower your eyebrows and do NOT judge me.

No, I didn’t eat a bite of this cake. Didn’t even lick the icing spoon or anything. So, there.

Defensive, much?

Yes, I’m sending it to The Boys so it will be out of my house.

No, I cannot monitor Big Daddy’s consumption of it while he’s at work with it.

Disclaimers over. *Sigh.*


I’m posting this recipe today for a number of reasons:

1. I can’t have any, and I think that, at least, somebody ought to be eating this today. Or tomorrow. But certainly by the end of the weekend.

2. I mentioned it in an earlier post. Teasing is not nice.

3. I promised my friend, Nicole, I would because she’s super brave. Spiritual courage should be rewarded. With food. I’m a Southerner. That’s what we do. Holla, Nicole!

4. Most importantly, it was one of the most favorite foods on earth of my Uncle Les, who, as of last weekend, is now eating it with the Lord at the biggest banquet table anyone’s ever seen. Finally free from cancer-related nausea, homeboy’s ready to eat!

You’re a one-of-a-kind, mister, and you are missed.


This recipe was ‘created’ by my mother, The Mad Knitter. My Granny (my dad’s mom) made it all the time and, for some, as-yet-unknown reason, no one bothered to learn from her how to make it. After Granny had joined the Lord at His banquet table, we started contemplating how to get one of those cakes we were sure she was up there eating without us.

Earthlings get left out of all the good stuff.

Anywho, my mother, being the culinary genius she is, got in the kitchen and tried this and that until she came up with this, here recipe.

Side note: all pics were taken by the Diva, which may or may not explain the flying saucer positioning of the finished cake. Our countertops are perfectly level.

pb cake1

Bottom line is, it’s a basic, yellow cake with peanut butter fudge for icing. Only good can come from this. I’m just sure of it.

Like making any type of candy, it’s important to get everything set up ahead of time.  Here you see the cake set-up.  I’ve got my cake plate (Read: cheap, plastic cake-taker thingy I send to work with Big Daddy…not my cut class cake pedestal. For sure not.) with the first, prepped layer on it. I’ve got strips of waxed paper underneath to catch icing drips. When we’re done, I’ll pull those out and have a nice, clean cake plate.

Even The Boys appreciate a nice presentation. Or, at least that’s what I tell myself.


What? She’s drinking orange juice, for goodness’ sake. Well, okay, it’s Sunny D, which is like orange-flavored sugar, but we’re getting there. Plus, the cake has eggs and, well, eggs are in it. (Ignore the bread in the background. I’m making breadcrumbs for my chicken burgers.)

No, I didn’t eat any cake top. *Sigh.*

There’s alot of sighing in this house today.

Anyway, I’ll level both of them before I even begin prepping for the icing. When the icing comes to the right temperature, things move rather rapidly. You’ll see.

If you notice that your cake seems a little dry (mine’s not today, but they have been in the past), just bring a simple syrup (1 cup of sugar and 3/4 cup of water) to a boil on the stove, let it cool a bit, and spoon a bit over each cake layer before icing. Problem solved. I am a problem solver.


Also, creamy peanut butter, sugar, butter, and a small can of evaporated milk. And a candy thermometer. And a pan. And a cake plate. And a stove. And a spoon. And a spreader. Nevermind. You get it.

The peanut butter jar is proof that I shop at stores other than the Wal-Mart.

Now, we’ll set up the icing. Put the sugar, butter, and milk into a saucepan with the thermometer (Wal-Mart!) clipped on. Do not turn the burner on.  Put the peanut butter in a cup over to the side. The recipe calls for a cup. You can see it’s a generous cup. It’s really more like a cup and a tablespoon. Or two. Or three.


In the sink is a bowl of cool water. We’ll use it to bring down the icing temperature to where we need it to spread on the cake. You could wait for nature to take its course, but I don’t have that kind of time on my hands.


Now turn on the burner…maybe medium or medium-high. Heat the sugar/butter/milk mixture to 212 degress (F).


Then, remove the pan from the heat and stir in the peanut butter until creamy smooth.


Place the hot pan into the cool water and keep stirring until the thermometer reaches 150 degrees (F). Do not stop stirring. If you do, the outside will be cool, and the inside still hot-ish.


Now, spread a bit of icing on the first layer. Stop just before reaching the edges. It’ll squirt out when you put the second layer on if you don’t.


With the second layer on top, spoon some icing onto the top. With a spatula or knife, start moving the icing to the sides. If it’s still a little warm, it’ll slide down the side. That’s okay. Don’t panic. Just keep picking it up and putting it back on the cake. Eventually, it will get cool enough to stick. No worries.


Once the sides are covered, spoon the remaining icing on top and spread until smooth. Now, you could spread this stuff for hours until it’s just perfect. I ain’t got that kind of time. Just spread it until it looks pretty good and call it a day. Leave it out in the air to continue cooling and hardening. Like fudge.


Slice and enjoy! Do not publish the fact that you have this cake on-hand. Unless you want to share it with, like, the whole neighborhood. I’m just sayin’.

This person, with whom I may or may not share a gene pool, has even less cooking patience than do I. She bakes her cake in a 9×13 pan, pokes some holes in it, and pours the warm icing over the top. It doesn’t look as pretty, but it tastes yummy still!

And, once, just once, The Mad Knitter made this with a chocolate cake instead of yellow, thinking chocolate and peanut butter would be good together. We prefer the yellow, but that’s just us. Try both. One for you, and one for me. I’ll be eating broccoli.

Go forth and make cake,