Cake and Coffee? Yes, Please!

You ever crave something just sweet enough to make your morning feel like a little party? That’s me most weekends—and honestly, sometimes Tuesday lunch too. I first stumbled onto this cherry coffee cake thing in a whirlwind when my aunt showed up (randomly!) with bags of fresh cherries. She said, "Let’s bake!" and, full disclosure, we ended up with more flour on ourselves than in the bowl. But the kitchen smelled like some magical bakery, and I’ve been hooked ever since. And I still don’t always pit every cherry perfectly—so if you crunch something, oops. It’s rustic baking, right?

Why I Keep Coming Back To This Cake

I make this cherry coffee cake whenever I feel like showing off (but with minimal actual effort). My family dives in before it’s cool, which is technically not allowed but I’ve given up fighting that battle. Sometimes it bakes up with a lopsided top or the cherries sink—no one’s ever cared. My sister always picks out the huge gooey cherry pockets. Oh, and if I forget the streusel topping? I pretend it’s suppose to be "French style." Sometimes, my mixer gives me attitude and I have to blend by hand; extra arm workout, I guess.

Here’s What You’ll Need (and What I Sometimes Swap)

2 cups all-purpose flour (but, I've used half whole wheat when I'm trying to be wholesome)
¾ cup sugar (granulated or, in a pinch, I've used brown sugar—makes it a bit richer)
½ cup unsalted butter, soft (margarine also works, but for real, butter is better)
2 large eggs (my neighbor's free-range eggs are golden, but supermarket works just fine)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract (sometimes I get wild and use almond)
1 cup sour cream (Greek yogurt is a good stand-in)
1 ½ teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon salt
1 ½ cups cherries, pitted and halved (frozen is ok! Just thaw and drain. My gran swore by fresh, I…well, I do what’s easy.)

For the streusel topping (totally optional, but not really):

⅓ cup flour
⅓ cup sugar
3 tablespoon cold butter, diced up

How To Throw This Together (My Way)

Crank the oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease up a 9-inch square pan—if you forget to grease? Been there. Adds character, I guess.
Cream your soft butter and sugar together till it’s fluffy (ish). You can use a stand-mixer, hand mixer, heck, even a big wooden spoon if you channel some elbow grease. This is where I usually taste the butter mixture, because why not?
Add your eggs—one at a time is the theory, but honestly, sometimes both go in if I’m distracted. Then the vanilla.
In a separate bowl (I sometimes skip this and dump it all together—ups to you), whisk flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.
Add the dries in thirds, alternately with sour cream, gently mixing. Don’t overbeat! Lumps are not the enemy here.
Fold in your cherries. The batter will look thick and maybe a bit odd? That’s fine. Trust the process (famous last words).
Blob everything into the pan and smooth it out. Now, in another quick bowl (or the one you just used, no shame), toss together the streusel stuff with your fingers till you get crumb clusters. Sprinkle this on top like you’re chucking snowballs.
Bake for 40-45 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out with only a few crumbs. If your kitchen smells like a summer day—time to check. (Actually, start checking at 38 min. My oven is moody.) Let it cool…or, be like my family and carve out a gooey corner immediately.

What I’ve Learned (the Hard Way): Notes

If you use frozen cherries, dry them well or you get a weird pink sludge cake. Don't ask.
Don’t panic if the cherries sink—it’s just gravity being a jerk. (You could toss them with a tablespoon of flour first, but in my experience, meh.)
If you want serious cherry flavor, a bit of almond extract is wild in this (just a ¼ tsp, or it goes from chic bakery to cough syrup real quick).

Variations I’ve Actually Tried (Not All Winners!)

Blueberry swap—delish, and honestly easier. Raspberries work too, but can go mushy.
I once went rogue and used canned cherries in syrup…um, don’t. Unless you want cake soup.
Lemon zest in the batter—surprisingly bright and zippy!

Equipment (and When I’ve Made Do)

9-inch square pan (I have done this in a round cake tin, but the corners are my favorite part, so…)
Mixer—nice, but mixing by hand is good for the soul, or at least the biceps
Parchment paper makes removing easy, yet greasing the pan and hoping for the best is also valid

How To Store It (If There’s Any Left)

Okay, technically you can wrap this tightly and keep it on the counter for two days, or in the fridge for like a week, but…truth be told, I’ve never seen it last more than a daylight cycle in my kitchen. Freezes decently, but wrap it in plastic and foil or it’ll taste like, um…freezer smells? You know what I mean.

Serving: How We Actually Eat It

My tradition: slice and serve with a mountain of whipped cream, or a scoop of vanilla ice cream if I’m feeling lush. Some mornings, I’ll butter a slice like toast (no one else does this, apparently, but it’s fab). Great alongside a mug of proper coffee—none of that instant stuff. For my favorite blend, I use Blue Bottle—but use whatever keeps your eyelids open!

Things I Learned the Hard (and Embarrassing) Way: Pro Tips

Once I tried baking at a higher temp thinking it’d be faster—nope, just burnt the top and rawed the middle. Not my finest.
Don’t try to slice it hot out of the oven. It’ll just collapse. (But I still do it sometimes.)
Pit your cherries properly or prep for a dental bill. But, on second thought, no one’s perfect.

“Wait, But Can I…?” (For Real People FAQ)

Can I use canned cherries?: Short answer: I’d skip 'em. They’re too wet and sweet. But hey, in a pinch, drain them like your life depends on it and cross your fingers.
Do I have to use sour cream?: Nope, I’ve mixed in plain yogurt and even buttermilk once when the fridge looked sad. It’s a sturdy recipe, promise.
Can I bake it the night before?: For sure. In fact, I think it tastes better the next day (just a hunch). Resting lets the flavors settle, like a good stew or, you know, a nap.
How do I pit cherries quickly?: I’ve poked them out with a straw, used a fancy pitter, and, once, just tore them open. Messy but satisfying. Or buy pitted frozen cherries and sidestep the whole mess. More ideas at Simply Recipes.
Is this ok as breakfast?: Honestly, it’s got fruit and dairy, so I call it breakfast food…but consult your conscience. Or your grandma.

Next time, maybe I’ll add rhubarb or something wilder—who knows? Baking is half following rules, half happy accidents. As long as the kitchen smells great, who cares?

How To make Cherry Coffee Cake

Cake and Coffee? Yes, Please!

Why I Keep Coming Back To This Cake

Here’s What You’ll Need (and What I Sometimes Swap)

How To Throw This Together (My Way)

What I’ve Learned (the Hard Way): Notes

Variations I’ve Actually Tried (Not All Winners!)

Equipment (and When I’ve Made Do)

How To Store It (If There’s Any Left)

Serving: How We Actually Eat It

Things I Learned the Hard (and Embarrassing) Way: Pro Tips

“Wait, But Can I…?” (For Real People FAQ)

How To Make Cherry Coffee Cake

Ingredients

Instructions

Approximate Information for One Serving

Nutrition Disclaimers

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