Old Vermont Burnt Sugar Cake with Maple Cream Cheese Frosting—And Releasing Control

Old Vermont Burnt Sugar Cake with Maple Cream Cheese Frosting

Maple for Mother's Day

I made this cake for Mother's Day. My mom has always loved maple. When I was a kid, my mom made homemade maple syrup whenever we had pancakes, and given a choice, she’d always go for a maple-flavored treat.

These days, even though my mom has Alzheimer’s and her memory and cognition are suffering, one thing is constant—she loves her sweets. I wanted to treat her to a cake with her favorite flavor. 

In the recipe description, Julie Richardson, author of Vintage Cakes, discloses that she is a “native Vermonter.” While burnt sugar is the old-school method of flavoring confections, she chose to use maple as a complement. Great choice!

Skepticism Wasn’t on the Ingredient List

Step one was creating the burnt sugar. My daughter was home, keeping me company in the bakery, and she definitely raised an eyebrow to this. Admittedly, it looked like an accident happening on the stove.

The rest of the cake prep included two shortenings, more sugar, and heavy on the egg yolk—a rich combination to split among 3 prepped pans.

I’ll be honest, when I looked at the recipe for the maple cream cheese frosting, I was skeptical. No powdered sugar? Nothing dry to provide texture? I was wondering how the three main ingredients—butter, cream cheese, and maple syrup—could combine into a usable frosting.

The recipe does state that the frosting should be refrigerated to firm up. This was a must, and it added to the total time. Worth it.

When Burning Something in a Recipe is Okay

Burnt sugar and maple syrup marry together in this cake to create a complex flavor profile. In fact, the two flavors basically melded to produce another flavor altogether.

Burnt sugar is actually very easy to make. Not only did it impart a unique flavor, but the deep amber colors of the two syrups also colored the cake a lovely, rich amber tone.

I’m a solid chocolate cake aficionado, but I’ll say, this cake was phenomenal. 

A Taste of Vermont?

The deep, complex caramel-like flavor sets this cake apart from a typical yellow cake. It was incredibly moist and dense—superb, in my opinion—rich and mysterious.

The frosting was unexpectedly divine. It wasn’t overly sweet; it was addictive. Since it was soft, it made for slippery layers, so I doweled it to keep them in place.

The buttery, maple-infused cream cheese in the frosting expertly complemented the richness of the deep amber cake.

I can only imagine this cake was like a taste of Vermont. It’s one of the states I have left to visit, so I’ll have to let you know for sure after that. 

Release Control and Trust the Process: The Transcend Moment

I was in a little bit of a rush when I started this cake. I’d been at an all-day women’s retreat with no access to my phone (oh, the horror!), so I had a lot to catch up on, having just released my book and communicating with others for Mother’s Day plans. Additionally, my daughter and grandpup were home, so I had the additional pull of wanting to spend time with them. All that to say…my time, patience, and adaptability were thin, and I began by “patiently” burning sugar.

In reviewing the recipe, I had every confidence that the cake would be delightful. It was the frosting that had me worried, and with a tight timeline (and limited cream cheese), I felt like I had one shot. The dilemma: trust the recipe or fall back on one of my validated recipes. I mean, couldn’t I drizzle some maple into my own cream cheese frosting recipe?

Considering one of the big takeaways from the retreat I’d attended was letting go of control and trusting in the outcome, it only seemed fair to follow the plan. 

Let me tell you, had I not trusted in the process, I wouldn’t have discovered this magical frosting. It was silky-smooth, melted on the tongue, and the leftover frosting made the most incredible topping for French toast with berries (for real, I might be saving this idea for a special brunch).

Once I paused my overstimulation and actually pondered, I considered what the worst thing would be if the frosting flopped. Buy more cream cheese? Serve with ice cream instead of frosting (actually…hmm…)? As I always realize when I lasso my worry, this is trivial, and it’s not worth sacrificing my peace and energy.

My mom loved the cake, and it was fully enjoyed by others as well, reminding me that life unfolds naturally when you stop gripping it so tightly. Not every outcome needs to be rigidly controlled. 

Life is sweeter with less worry and more trust that we can handle what comes. And sometimes the happy little surprise that comes with letting go provides you with an unexpected treat for the future—like icing on the cake (or frosting on the French toast).