Images of rebirth and renewal are everywhere at Easter: hatching chicks, hordes of bunnies and emerging flower buds. Also returning, prompted by the occasion and a crowd to feed, are the seasonal bakers, rested from the holidays and re-energized for spring.
Easter is an opportunity to bake for loved ones, and these two recipes, charming Easter nest “cakes” and a resplendent princess cake, are opportunities for beginning and advanced bakers alike. The first is as simple as it gets — barely requiring a recipe — and perfect for baking with the whole family. The second may surprise you. Though it looks like a grand affair, a princess cake is much easier to pull off than you might expect, thanks to a streamlined method and technical shortcuts that don’t compromise on flavor or presentation.
Let’s start with the humble nest cakes. Britain’s favorite Easter dessert, they’re a no-bake medley of chocolate, butter and crunchy cereal, filled with candy, preferably chocolate eggs (they are nests, after all). A mainstay of school bake sales and family get-togethers, they’re one of the first things young British cooks learn to make, and couldn’t be easier: just melt, stir, portion, and then chill until firm. It’s a wonder we even call them cakes at all.
The origins of the Easter nest can be traced back to World War II. A recipe for “Chocolate Crisplets” appeared in the 1941 “Mixed Grill of War Time Recipes” booklet, calling for “some unrationed chocolate spread” to be melted and mixed with “enough cereal” until “stiff,” then left to set. The vague instructions — no measurements or specific cereal named — remain typical today.
The exact makeup of an Easter nest varies from family to family, and debates continue over the “right” cereal to use — shredded wheat (for the most realistic-looking nest), Rice Krispies (undoubtedly delightful) or cornflakes (my pick) — as well as the addition of golden syrup and butter. But when it comes to decoration, there’s one universally respected rule: Keep it kitsch. The more miniature Easter paraphernalia, from chocolate eggs to tiny plastic chicks, you can pile on, the better.
On the other end of the spectrum is Prinsesstårta, or Swedish princess cake. While it’s not traditionally Easter fare, it certainly looks the part, with its pastel green contours evoking a flourishing hillside. The light, airy inner layers, far from the heavily spiced cakes of winter, make it an ideal spring centerpiece.
Prinsesstårta was created by Jenny Åkerström, an author and home economics teacher, and first published in her 1948 edition of “Prinsessornas kokbok,” “The Princesses’ Cookbook.” Originally called gröntårta, green cake, the dessert was so beloved by Princesses Margaretha, Märta and Astrid, students of Ms. Åkerström, that it eventually became known as “Princess Cake.” The royal association remains strong. When Princess Estelle was born in Sweden in 2012, princess cakes sold out across the country.
The original recipe for gröntårta called for three layers of soft spongecake and custard, coated with stiffly whipped cream and covered with a thin layer of green-dyed mandelmassa (almond paste), finished with a single pink rose. While the essence and color scheme have endured, almond paste has been replaced with sweeter, smoother marzipan and the pleasing domed shape — thought to allude to a crown — is a modern addition. Purists may argue that jam, which did not appear in the original recipe but is a fixture of contemporary versions, does not belong, though the tart tang is most welcome among the sweet muddle of soft, creamy layers.
It is estimated that half a million princess cakes — that’s about four million slices in a nation of just 10 million people — are sold every year in Sweden, making it by far the country’s best-selling pastry. There’s even a week each September honoring the beloved cake.
Making one, though, can be challenging, involving multiple components and careful layering, and the marzipan finish can feel intimidating. But don’t worry: Streamlining is absolutely possible. In this recipe, the sponge is reduced to just two layers, and high-quality store-bought jam and marzipan step in to significantly reduce the workload. The custard, which usually requires a back-and-forth tempering method, has been simplified by whisking all the ingredients in a single saucepan and heating until thick. The whipped cream — often stabilized with gelatin — is instead fortified with the simpler addition of mascarpone.
The best bit? This princess cake is built entirely in a bowl. No stacking the layers and draping the marzipan over the top (in my opinion, the scary part). This gives you as much time as you need to line the bowl with marzipan (you can even start again, if necessary) and layer the elements without any concerns about stability. Once turned out, it reveals a beautifully smooth dome, fit for any princess.
