26 Aug Blackberry Mascarpone & Gingersnap Icebox Cake // Eff the Oven August

The icebox cake. A recipe from times passed, no doubt — a shout out to its antiquity in the mere mention of an “icebox” in its nomenclature.

I may not even have known what an icebox is if it weren’t for a beautiful, hand-carved, towering antique oak version that’s been a staple in my parents’ dining room for as long as I can remember. Though never used as originally intended by my family, it’s always been a prized piece in my parents’ furniture collection.

They purchased it in Cincinnati, in the late-1970s while my dad was attending graduate school. As a kid I remember them recalling their newlywed memories of Cincinnati — they survived two of the coldest winters in Cincinnati history (ahh yes, the winters of ’77-‘78 <– read with a raspy, old man voice) and lived so close to the Cincinnati Zoo that they could hear the lions roaring for their breakfasts every morning.

At the time they were living on a teaching assistant’s salary, tending to fresh wounds — the result of having lost every single belonging they owned when their moving truck was stolen as they exited a year-long stint in New Orleans — and holding it down as one of the only white couples in a predominately African American neighborhood. In other words, they didn’t have much besides a pile of geology textbooks, a couple drawers of clothes and eventually, this icebox.

The fact that they were able to purchase such a beautiful antique at the time makes me assume they didn’t pay much for it. Was there a time in the somewhat recent past when antiques weren’t so damn expensive? Maybe so. Or maybe the piece is actually not all that valuable. Maybe they saved. Regardless, as I write this I’m experiencing a pang of jealousy, having recently experienced the desire to fill my (tiny) condo with new-to-me furniture and feeling the help-me-I’m-poor, wallet-clutching pain of how horribly expensive antique shops can be.

Anyway, cake!

Having grown up in a household of, shall we say, limited desserts, I had not heard of an icebox cake until recent years, as I entered into the world of food blogging. We’re new friends, icebox cakes and I, this being my very first attempt. But I can tell, this friendship, it’s going places.

I am deeming the icebox cake the perfect dessert for cookie and milk aficionados. More specifically, those who find solace in the dunking of cookies into an ice cold glass of milk, purposely leaving the cookie submerged just a bit too long, so that when you finally reach the bottom of the glass, you’ve got prized, soggy cookie bits waiting for you. <– I’m one of those. Tell me I’m not alone in the soggy-cookie-bottoms universe. Trust me, its a happy place.

The texture and flavor of icebox cakes remind me a lot of those perfectly soggy cookie bits. Wafer-like cookies are layered with whipped cream and sometimes pudding, then left to get it on overnight in the refrigerator. They make cool, creamy cookies-plus-cream icebox love, and a perfect cake-baby is born. One that requires only a few minutes to assemble and even fewer ingredients. It’s a beautiful thing.

I had some mascarpone on hand that needed to be used so I got to noodling and the idea for this icebox cake was born and materialized faster than you can say Blackberry Mascarpone & Gingersnap Icebox Cake. Five ingredients, no heat needed, easy-peasy stuff y’all.

I actually dreamt of infusing the Blackberry Mascarpone Whipped Cream with basil, but that would have required an extra night for infusing and what can I say, homegirl wanted some cake. Instead, I just served fresh basil leaves alongside the sliced cake, but if you have the time and inclination, do it. (Michelle gives perfect instructions for infusing the cream here.) And then don’t tell me how good it was because it will give me cake-envy.

Just kidding. Totally tell me and send pix too.

Now, let me tell you [one last] little something about icebox cakes. If you do some googlin’ all kinds of perfectly layered cake images will pop up and if you’re like me, you’ll be like, hell yea I got this. But as you can tell, I don’t got this. And that is why the word ‘rustic’ came about. Because even though you think you may be layering your cookies + cream into perfectly even layers, feeling all take-this!-Martha-like, it might look a little differently than you imagine when you cut into it. But it’ll still taste like mascarpone-y soggy cookie bottoms and that’s what’s important.

A Few Notes About This Recipe:

To make the blackberry puree, blend a 12 oz. package of blackberries in a blender or food processor until smooth the strain out any seeds with a mesh strainer. This should yield about 1 cup of puree. I didn’t add any sweetener to mine since the recipe calls for sugar but if your berries are on the sour side, adjust the sugar in the recipe to suit your taste.

When making whipped cream, you must use cold cream AND a cold mixing bowl. I recommend placing your mixing bowl in the freezer for 10 – 15 minutes prior to whip time. 

Stay cool! XO, Katie

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