In Search of Sweetness, Strawberry Spoon Cake

     The strawberries arrive midmorning delivered by my sister-in-law, a half-flat in a recycled grocery box, the scent hitting first—bright, ripe, insistent. They're the kind that stain fingers, that suggest summer when the trees outside are still hesitant with their leaves. I lift one to my nose, then bite. The taste is sharp, then sweet, the seeds cracking faintly between my teeth. 

    A friend asks if I'll make shortcake. 

    The question lingers. Shortcake belongs to another time, another kitchen. My mother, leaning against the counter, slicing berries, her knife tapping rhythmically against the cutting board. The berries always went into a bowl with sugar, left to collapse into syrup while she reached for the store-bought angel food cake. She never saw a reason to make her own when the grocery store had one ready, light as air and fat-free—important, back then. 

    Though I've grown to appreciate the rustic simplicity of traditional shortcakes over the years, there's still wisdom in my mother's practical approach. The berries sit on my counter now, weeping their juice into the worn wood. I glance at my recipe binder, thick with notes, shortcake recipes layered between pie crust formulas and evolving scone recipes. But the day is already slipping past. There are emails, a deadline, and a laundry basket glaring from the corner. 

    I reach for flour. 

    Not for shortcake. Something easier. Something in between a cake and a pudding, the kind of thing that doesn't need to be sliced, just spooned straight from the dish. Better yet, no eggs needed—a welcome consideration when they've become such a pricey commodity. Butter melts in a dish as the oven preheats. The batter comes together in minutes—butter dissolving into flour, buttermilk and sugar whisked until just smooth. The berries go on top, their juices streaking pink into the pale batter. 

    The oven door closes. The kitchen quiets. 

    Fifteen minutes in, the scent begins to change—first warm butter, then caramelizing sugar, then strawberries softening, their perfume thickening the air. The edges darken first, crisp where the batter meets the heat. I press a spoon against the rim when it comes out, and it resists, barely, before giving way. A delicate crunch, then softness underneath. 

    The first bite burns my tongue. The second melts. The berries have sunk just enough to create pockets of jam, their syrup threading through the cake. The edges, I notice, are almost chewy, caramelized where the sugar and butter pooled. I take another spoonful, then another. I think of my mother, of all the ways sweetness finds its way to us, even in shortcuts. 

    Shortcake can wait. 
 

Strawberry Spoon Cake

If you, like me, crave something easier than shortcake but just as rewarding, this spoon cake might be the answer. It has all the flavors of a classic strawberry shortcake without the effort of homemade biscuits. Even better, it requires no eggs—just a handful of pantry staples. After baking, you can enhance the flavor with dollops of strawberry jam and extra macerated berries.

For a deeper strawberry flavor, try folding 1-2 tablespoons of strawberry jam into the batter before adding the fresh berries.
 

Ingredients:

• For the strawberries:

  • 2 cups sliced fresh strawberries

  • 2 tablespoons white sugar

  • 1 tablespoon lemon juice

• For the cake:

  • 1 stick (½ cup) unsalted butter

  • 2 cups all-purpose flour

  • ½ cup white sugar (adjust based on berry sweetness)

  • 1 teaspoon baking powder

  • ½ teaspoon baking soda

  • ½ teaspoon salt

  • 1 cup buttermilk, room temperature*

  • 2 teaspoons vanilla extract

(No buttermilk? Mix 1 tablespoon white vinegar into 1 cup milk and let sit for 5–10 minutes.)

Directions:

1. In a medium bowl, toss the strawberries with 2 tablespoons sugar and lemon juice. Let sit for about 10 minutes.

2. Place butter in a 10-inch cast iron skillet or pie dish. Set the skillet in the oven and heat to 350°F (175°C), allowing the butter to melt as the oven preheats.

3. Meanwhile, whisk together the flour, ½ cup sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a large bowl.

4. Carefully remove the skillet from the oven and swirl to coat the bottom with butter. Pour the remaining melted butter into the dry ingredients. Let the skillet cool slightly.

5. Add buttermilk and vanilla to the flour mixture. Stir just until no dry clumps remain. Pour the batter back into the skillet and spread evenly.

6. Spoon the strawberries and their juices over the batter.

7. Bake for 32 to 37 minutes, until the center is just barely set and the edges are golden brown. Let cool for 5 minutes before serving.

8. Serve warm, optionally topped with extra macerated strawberries, dollops of jam, whipped cream, or ice cream.