I may be behind on posts, but I have not been behind on baking! I’ve been keeping up with the once a week cake challenge. The Mississippi Mud Cake was one that I subbed in at the last moment because I was considering doing a Lane Cake, but I realized it would necessitate both an online purchase (dried peaches) and a trip to the liquor store, and I didn’t have that sort of time in my life the week after getting back from a conference. So the Mississippi Mud Cake to the rescue.
The Mississippi Mud Cake is so-called because it looks like the muddy banks of the Mississippi River. Some date teh cake to a diner near Vicksburg, but this remains disputed. Mississippi mud is a term that gained widespread knowledge with a song called Mississippi Mud in 1927, and it was often used as a term meant to refer to chocolate pudding. Early newspaper versions of the recipe appeared as early as 1968 in Arkansas and Kansas. Some posit that it isn’t a cake at all but an evolution of a brownie. But whatever it is, it has become a new Southern staple and has found a warm home in many Southern kitchens over the last 50 years.
The Mississippi Mud Cake recipe that I was using from Ree Drummond is what I call a “baked bean recipe.” This is a bit of a joke between me and Dale. We discovered that both of our family’s “make” baked beans in the same way: by starting with a can of pre-prepared baked beans. To this day, I still don’t know what bean one would start with for baked beans made from scratch (pinto?). It seems to be a Southern staple to start with basic canned baked beans and then to doctor them with bacon, brown sugar, and other accouterments to make your own version.
I don’t have any opposition to baked bean recipes. I used to. When I first started seriously cooking, I was a huge snob about cooking from scratch and really trying to get as close to the source of food as possible. Everything that could be from scratch should be. Make your own puff pastry. Always use whole garlic. Never buy frozen if you can get fresh. And, dear reader, I have since learned what all people in their 30’s learn:
Who has the fucking time for all of that?
I certainly don’t. So now my garlic is pre-minced in a jar in my fridge, and I have time to actually do more of the things on stuff mountain. Or as I’ve taken to saying these days: there’s just too much list and not enough day. So while I can and have made marshmallow from scratch, when Ree said buy a bag for the topping, I plopped my $3 down and went on with the rest of my day.
Anyways, back to the cake. This cake is made in a 9×13 Pyrex, and for the most part, it’s pretty standard. Make a pretty standard chocolate cake. When it comes out of the oven, pour marshmallows (from a bag that was bought at the store) over the top. Put the marshmallow cake under the broiler. Then, you poor a thinner chocolate icing all over the cake.
It. Is. Messy.
The marshmallow was already peaking over the top of the 9×13, so adding more on top? It breached containment. Spilled onto the counter. But it also did what it was supposed: seeped into the marshmallow and cake making it craggy and moist and chocolatey all over. This was the mud, and it penetrated the chocolate cake soil to make a fudgey delight.
This cake is not pretty. But it’s not meant to be. It is chocolate on chocolate with marshmallow. Also known as a crowd pleaser. Dale said it was the best brownie he’d ever had, and it was quickly gobbled up at work (though with the marshmallow, it’s not really something you can put in a napkin and just walk away).
Could I have made my own marshmallow. Sure. Could I have more carefully drizzled the chocolate to ensure a more elegant final product? Maybe. Could I have assessed the overall volume of the pan and moved it to my lasagna dish that would have definitely been big enough. I suppose. But…
