Princess Cake

Desserts come to us in many forms. Sometimes they're the simple kind—no-bake bars cut into neat squares, easy to grab and eat without a thought. Other times they're puddings meant for spooning on the couch, frozen treats to cool a hot day, or a bread pudding warm enough to chase off the chill. But then there is another category: the grand finales, desserts meant to close a meal with a flourish and linger in our memories long after the last bite. They certainly don't come together in a jiffy; they take patience and a bit of devotion. But what you get in return is nothing short of showstopping. Few cakes embody this jaw-dropping quality more than the Swedish princess cake (prinsesstårta), with its pale green marzipan cloak, whipped-cream dome, and layers of sponge, jam, and custard. 

In the United States, the princess cake has long had a small following, but has really surged in popularity in recent years. Part of its appeal is visual—the pastel-green dome revealing layers of cake, jam, and cream when sliced make it stunning on the table and irresistible in photographs, turning it into an internet darling. The ripped-from-a-fairytale name doesn't hurt either.

Chefs have embraced the moment, putting their own spins on the classic: Pastry artist Paris Starn makes pistachio sponge cakes wrapped in pistachio marzipan, their sunken centers filled with rose petals, while in Los Angeles, Hannah Ziskin's slices at Quarter Sheets sell out almost daily. What was once a niche Scandinavian import is now a showpiece embraced by bakeries and chefs nationwide. For our version, we wanted a cake that not only captures the fantastical look, but also tastes just as magical, and this recipe from our Birmingham-based colleague Melissa Gray-Streett does just that.

Pastry Cream, the Cake's Silky Core

The heart of a princess cake is a luscious layer of pastry cream. Making this custard calls for attentiveness: Sugar, cornstarch, milk, and egg yolks are whisked together, then cooked gently until the mixture thickens into a pudding-like consistency. The key here is vigilance—whisk constantly and don't walk away. Once the mixture is removed from the heat, cubes of cold butter are whisked in for luxurious smoothness, followed by vanilla for fragrance. Straining the cream through a fine-mesh sieve ensures satiny consistency, free of lumps. The custard must then cool fully, with plastic wrap pressed directly against the surface to prevent a skin from forming. It's not a step to rush, but the result is a velvety pastry cream with a perfectly smooth finish.

An Old-World Sponge

The cake itself is a genoise, a sponge with roots in old-world European baking. Unlike modern cakes that rely on baking powder or soda for lift, a genoise rises on the strength of eggs alone. Whole eggs and yolks are whisked with sugar over gentle heat, just until warm to the touch. That bit of warmth helps the sugar dissolve and loosens the proteins in the eggs, allowing them to whip to maximum volume—tripling in size until pale, fluffy, and almost mousse-like. Once that base is removed from the heat, flour is folded in with care. The result is a sponge that's delicate yet resilient, perfectly suited to be sliced into thinner layers and stacked with jam, custard, and cream.

Once baked and cooled, each round is halved with a serrated knife to create four even layers. These form the stages for the cake's dramatic interior: a thin slick of raspberry jam that's warmed for easy spreading, followed by generous spoonfuls of pastry cream. The two fillings work in tandem—the jam bright with fruit and just tart enough to cut through the custard's richness. The layers are stacked one over another, jam and cream alternating, until the final round is set on top, jam side down, to seal the structure.

At this point, the cake is bound together not just by sponge and custard but also by a crown of whipped cream. The cream must be beaten to very stiff peaks—firmer than you might whip for topping pie or spooning over fruit—so it can hold its shape. A thin coating goes around the sides to seal the layers, while the rest is mounded generously on top and coaxed into a smooth, rounded dome. This distinctive silhouette is the princess cake's signature, the pillowy shape that will soon be hidden but not diminished by its marzipan veil.

The Green Cloak

The most iconic feature of a princess cake is its green marzipan cape. Also known as grön tårta, or "green cake," the dessert was created in the early 20th century by Swedish home economics teacher and cookbook author Jenny Åkerström, who taught the daughters of Prince Carl, Duke of Västergötland. The princesses—Margaretha, Märtha, and Astrid—were so fond of the confection that it became known as prinsesstårta, or "princess cake," according to a 2025 article in The New York Times's T Magazine. 

To make the marzipan, almond flour and powdered sugar are kneaded with egg white and almond extract, then tinted with a few drops of green dye to give it the signature hue that defines the dessert. Extra powdered sugar is dusted over the counter to keep the sticky mixture from clinging as you knead and roll it out. Once rolled and draped over the whipped-cream-topped cake, the marzipan must be smoothed with care. You can use your hands to patch any small cracks, but a damp paper towel helps to finish the edges, leaving the dome seamless and polished. Enveloping confections in marzipan is an old-fashioned technique, one that makes the cake look every bit as regal as its name suggests.

The Grand Finale: Slicing and Serving

To cut into a princess cake is to reveal its secrets: tender sponge layered with jam and custard, blanketed with whipped cream, all hidden beneath a smooth marzipan dome. It's dramatic but delicate, old-world in its technique yet timeless in its appeal. Yes, it asks for care—custard to cook, eggs to whip, marzipan to knead and drape—but the reward is a cake worthy of its name. Brought to the table, it silences the room for just a moment, before giving way to admiration and delight. Few desserts embody celebration as beautifully as this one, a true grand finale.