Week Seven: "What on Earth Would Possess You to Make a Tomato Soup Cake?"

You poor readers are constantly hearing how strapped I am - for time, for cash, for motivation - and this week's cake is a wonderful reflection of (and solution to) that. 

Some of my favorite recipes were designed with such shortcomings in mind. There's a whole world of "substitution"cooking that helped families get through tough times, like war-rationing, without losing delicious food. 

For example: mock apple pie is quite possibly the best apple pie you'll ever eat. But it doesn't include a single apple, it's made of Ritz crackers. 

A few years ago, we found a handwritten recipe inside of an old church cookbook (the sacred tomes of all cookbook-dom) for "imitation pecan pie." And girls, I get it, pecans are EXPENSIVE. They're also my favorite nut to mindlessly eat from the freezer (or dig out of cans of mixed nuts before anyone can catch me); so any way to save money or pecans, is a win. This pie is actually made with pinto beans and corn syrup, but nary a nut. It was good, but probably better when you don't know you're eating bean pie. 

Women, we are so resourceful and determined to serve our families in a meaningful way. Yeah, we might have to make meatless sausages (like Welsh Glamorgan sausages, popularized in WWII), vinegar pies, or repeatedly thinned out stew; but we try so hard to make sure our families are fed something tasty. 

And sometimes, maybe most of the time, you aren't strapped for ingredients, but you're short on time and won't have the chance to develop deep flavors. Thank you, God, for things like bouillon cubes. This week recipe is from the 50's, when mothers' time became even more precious and the scientific future was becoming a reality. Post-war, U.S. life was largely improving, women had more options outside of the house, and tools of convenience - from shiny appliances to instant Jell-o pudding - were everywhere. Instead of laboring over the stove to create home cooked meals, you could open a box or a can or even throw a TV dinner in the oven. 

Which brings us to a recipe that would make both Andy Warhol and Betty Draper proud. 

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We're seven weeks in and drifting into the "unusual" recipe pile. Ages ago, I saved a Buzzfeed listicle of "15 Unusual Cakes You Need To Make Right Now" and this week's 
recipe (and next's) came from it. 


To recap:

Week 1: Coconut Cream Poke Cake 

Week 2: Carrot Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting 

Week 3: Orange Chiffon Cake with Candied Zest 

Week 4: Upside Down Banana Toffee Cake 

Week 5: Maple Bundt Cake 

Week 6: Little French Fudge Cakes 

Week 7: Tomato Soup Cake from Food52

Some 1950s/60s meals of convenience were downright TERRIFYING. Recipes leaned too heavily on mayonnaise and Jell-o (even together!) and provided us some of the scariest recipe cards I've ever seen. But I promise you, this use of a totally random, processed food is brilliant and delicious, and makes for quick prep. 


First things first: no, you can't taste the tomato. No, the cake isn't bright red. No, it doesn't smell like condensed soup. 

I performed an experiment to make sure the cake was 1. delicious and 2. not a tomato-y disaster. I made the cake alone in the kitchen and served it to my husband and parents, asking only if they could find my secret ingredient. They all picked up on the strong spices and could point out the cinnamon and nutmeg (I was out of cloves). 

When I told them it was made with tomato soup concentrate, they were all flabbergasted. J actually made me dig the can out of the recycling bin and then ate three pieces "just to be sure he didn't taste tomato." 

Honestly, I have NO idea why this recipe exists or what ingredients/preparation you might need to create a similar flavor and depth sans soup. But, since it was originally on a Campbell's label, I imagine it came from their burgeoning research and development department. And, it was so successful, unlike this "tuna 'n waffles" gem, it was allegedly included in the first edition of "The Joy of Cooking." 

This isn't a vegetable pun, but if you enjoy carrot cake, I think you'll really enjoy this cake. It's rich and spicy; those flavors that are so comforting and warm. Usually you add one of the major "mulling spices" - cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, allspice - but this recipe uses three. And the raisins add a bright burst of sweetness and juicy texture to an already soft, moist cake. 

And that sweet, thick cream cheese frosting. I'll be honest here, since the target audience of the original recipe was housewives who didn't have time to mess around, I totally used canned frosting. And no, I didn't do a crumb coating and piped rosettes; I followed the instructions of the author's mother and spread frosting between the layers and on top, nothing on the sides. Brilliant time savers, these ladies really had the right idea! 

This was a perfect cake for our surprise snow day Friday. We were unprepared with supplies and hankering for something comforting and sweet. Snow days are notoriously my best cooking (and eating) days, but we were hopelessly short on junk food staples. The snow kept piling up (9+ inches!), but a little digging in the pantry made for a delicious 3.5" of cake! 

If you're looking for a walk on the wild side, something out-of-the-ordinary, or a retro centerpiece, this is the recipe for you. It sounds outlandish, garish, and totally unnecessary, but it truly is a tasty, moist, and beautiful cake.