I’ve been thinking about Mother Lovett lately.
I made her orange cake for Easter, though she would have scolded me for not baking it in a 9 x 13 pan and for turning it into a layer cake. I added cream cheese to the frosting and forgot the coconut in the batter. I zested the oranges myself instead of making my husband scrape the rind while I berated him until he complied. Even when I tried to follow the recipe, things came out a little different—part of the charm of cooking from memory and love.
It’s hard to believe it’s been two years since we said goodbye. Some days it feels like yesterday I was in her kitchen, nursing overly sweet iced tea and sneaking Snickers bars from the cupboard under the bar. I reset her kitchen timer so she wouldn’t burn another batch of chocolate chip cookies and threw away the aluminum foil that had covered her baking tins for years. Someone had to do it.
She was stubborn in the best ways—proud, strong, full of spirit. I’ve shared stories about her before: how we partially served her an 88th birthday cake because she was too short to notice the missing half; how she married brothers and how she survived for decades with four blockages in three arteries while still enjoying buttered crackers and rich lard pie crusts. She hoarded condiments, a habit perhaps rooted in the Depression, and we laughed until we cried at discoveries like a bottle of soy sauce that expired in 1979.
She was a tiny firecracker—four-foot-eleven, legally blind and nearly deaf, yet always wearing high heels and drawing on eyebrows with pink lip liner. She once rolled down the grassy slope in front of her house while pulling weeds and would often confuse names; after an hour-long visit she’d be surprised to find I wasn’t my cousin Lacy. On another occasion she complained she missed “watching her stories” because “Omaha was on all afternoon,” convinced Omaha was the person who would be president. That sort of mix-up was part of her charm.
She passed on a sense of humor to my mother, too. My mom once raved for ten minutes about “the best tai chi she had ever tasted,” only to be gently corrected that she had meant chai tea. These are the little memories that keep her close—funny, vivid, and warm.
Most of all, she shared incredible recipes and a love of baking. Her orange cake is a standout: bright with citrus, tender with shredded coconut, layered and frosted with creamy orange buttercream. It’s sweet without being cloying, moist and fragrant, and finished with a generous coating of coconut. Whether you bake it exactly as written or adapt it to your taste, it’s one of those recipes that brings people together and evokes memory with every slice. You should make it.
Juicy Orange Cake
Makes two 8-inch layer cakes
Ingredients:
- 2 1/2 cups cake flour
- 3 teaspoons baking powder
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 1/2 cup butter, softened
- 1 1/2 cups sugar
- 3 eggs
- 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
- 3/4 cup orange juice
- 1/4 cup orange zest
- 2–3 tablespoons milk, if needed
- 1 cup shredded coconut
- 10–12 oranges, zested and juiced (use as needed; reserve extra for frosting)
Instructions:
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Zest and juice the oranges. Sift together the flour, baking powder, and salt; set aside. In the bowl of an electric mixer, cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy, about 2–3 minutes. Add eggs one at a time, then mix in the vanilla. With the mixer on low, add half of the dry ingredients, then pour in the orange juice. Add the remaining dry ingredients, then fold in the orange zest and shredded coconut until evenly distributed. If the batter seems too thick, add 1–2 tablespoons of milk or additional orange juice to reach a typical cake-batter consistency.
Divide the batter between two prepared 8-inch buttered and floured cake pans. Bake for 25–30 minutes, or until the centers are set and a toothpick inserted comes out clean. Allow the cakes to cool completely before frosting. Note: because of the coconut, these cakes can be a bit crumbly—handle gently when assembling.
Orange Frosting
Ingredients:
- 2 1/2 sticks butter, softened
- 1 8-ounce block cream cheese, softened
- 4 1/2–5 cups powdered sugar, depending on desired consistency
- 2–3 tablespoons orange juice
- 2 tablespoons (or more) orange zest
- 2–3 cups shredded coconut, for coating
Instructions:
Cream the butter and cream cheese together until smooth. Add powdered sugar gradually, 1/2 cup at a time, starting on low speed and increasing as the mixture comes together. Stir in orange juice and zest, adjusting with more juice if you need a softer consistency. Frost the cooled cakes and press shredded coconut onto the sides and top as desired.
I’m still full from yesterday—full of memories, full of cake, and grateful for recipes that carry a person’s spirit forward.