20 Retro Dessert Recipes for Always-In-Style Gatherings

What is this hedonism treadmill that accepts that things like tumeric, bacon and copious amouts of salt belong in sweets? When you need a break from the constant evolution, you could do worse than to look backwards, and find those old-school sweets that were the best thing you had ever tasted as a kid — or maybe find an oldie but goodie that's new to you. These desserts are iconic and fun, and definitely don't take themselves too seriously. So tie on an apron and make some good old-fashioned fun!

There was a time when an upside-down cake sounded like the most radical idea — can you believe the bottom becomes the top? But it's not just a gimmicky bit of eye candy — er, cake. The sugars caramelize in the base of the pan, so that when you flip it over, the tasty juices soak down into the cake. And yes, it looks cool. A truly retro version would arrange maraschino cherries in the centers of each ring of fruit; but we love the subtle, kind of sophisticated hues of this cake that just doubles down on the pineapple.

There's retro — we often think of it, in this context, as mid-century — and then there's retro. This combination of flambéed cherries and rum, served over ice cream, is so simple that it's almost hard to think of it as having been invented at all. But it was said to be a creation by great French chef August Escoffier for Queen Victoria in the 1890s. It's worth giving a whirl in your kitchen, if for no other reason than the great spectacle of flambéeing; and because it really is a deliciously simple treat.

We love an angel food cake, so fluffy and white, so airy, that it's ready to float away. Usually, the cake contains no chemical leaveners, but uses beaten egg whites to bake up tall. It's an almost fat-free cake, too, so it is great at absorbing delicious creams and juices in trifles, or jam on a toasted slice.

The experience of biting into a forgotten cookie is much like what you'd expect from a chocolate chip meringue: An outer crisp crunch, yielding to a marshmallowy center, studded with little hits of chocolate throughout. The theories of where these get their name abound, from, the fact that they're made with a leftover (forgotten) ingredient from other baking projects (excess egg whites) to the fact that you "forget" them in a warm oven for a very long time. But we don't want them to be forgotten generally, since they're always a delight.

This Pennsylvania Dutch classic really leans deeply into the flavors of molasses, the signature ingredient of this pie. Though it's often said that the name comes from the need to keep flies away from it as it cools, due to its delicious, sticky profile, Occam's razor points to the molasses brand of yore, "Shoofly Molasses Co." We like to think it's because you'll be swatting away all members of your household who won't be able to wait until it cools.

This one brings a real conflicted mix of terror and curiosity. Um, sure, why couldn't you make a cake out of tomato soup (scared eyes emoji)? But once emotions cool and you consider it more clinically, you remember that that can of condensed soup does have a certain sweetness to it, and we do have lots of other examples of veggies-that-are-really-fruits making the successful transition to sweet baked good (zucchini or pumpkin, for example). Once you pair it with some fall-like spices, it's a cake that can and should remain a classic.

If you've never made or eaten a baked Alaska, coined to celebrate the annexation of Alaska as the 49th state in 1867, you're missing out. That sensation of hot cake plus cold ice cream with a sweet cloud of merinuge on top is a complete showstopper of the best kind, that makes guests smile and laugh and cheer and wait with eager spoons. In spite of the fact that it's somewhat of a rarity in home kitchens, baked Alaska is pretty simple, almost more of an assembly project than otherwise. We've broken down the timing and the steps to make one without breaking too much of a sweat.

Gingerbread cake is that retro dessert in the way that Christmas carols are retro: It's been around a long time, and it wouldn't be the holidays without it. This is the ideal dessert for a festive gathering, but don't let that overshadow what a great "on the counter" cake this makes. Leave it out, and people will shave off it for days, for breakfast, for an afternoon snack, for an after-dinner treat ...

Icebox, of course, refers to the original refrigerator, an insulated case that you would keep cool by way of getting a delivery of an enormous ice cube a few times a week. But an icebox cake is a little bit of genius, that converts layers of cookies and ice cream or whipped cream into something with a creamy cakelike texture, just by melding together as it chills. When the warm weather rolls around, we love to have the ingredients for icebox cake at the ready, for whenever the mood strikes, because it's just so easy to pull together.

Sure, we'll go with "salad" in the grand tradition of fruit or veggies suspended in Jell-O being a "salad." But this specific profile, of strawberry gelatin, creamy midsection, and salty-sweet pretzel crust, has maintained its integrity since it first circulated in the 1960s, maybe just due to its specificity? Everyone loves it and lays claim to it (common searches: Is pretzel salad a Midwestern thing? a Southern thing? a Pittsburg thing?) but lucky for us, we can all make it and enjoy it, no matter our location of origin.

Mayonnaise cake recipes began appearing during the Depression, kind of a genius response, if you think about it, to the expense of butter and fresh eggs. It's the original shortcut ingredient in that sense, and still has the ability to lend a moistness and richness to a cake. If you always have a jar in the back of the fridge, you're always at least part of the way to a delicious cake.

The mid-century saw an abundance of recipes with "magic" in the name, like cakes that would divide on their own into layers in the oven, or layers that would switch places by baking. These are unrelated to that phenomenon, but when companies that made sweetened condensed milk started printing recipes for "magic bars" on the side of their cans at the same moment in time, one has to imagine that they were trying to claim some of this, um, magic, for themselves. Here, what you have is a pretty easygoing bar cookie where the sweetened condensed milk becomes an irresistible ooey-gooey base for chocolate chips and shredded coconut.

It's hard to imagine a time before that steadfast supermarket fruit, the banana, was available everywhere, but it only the early 1900s when that was becoming the case. Though banana hasn't been the world's sexiest flavor for a while, there are signs that the winds are changing, and banana is coming into its own as a flavor. Of course, Ina is ready, with just a best-in-breed banana cake that you will be proud to slice and serve (and happy to eat).

The origins of butterscotch candy lie with the English, in the early 1800s, and it was distinguished from caramel candies by the fact that it was made with brown, not white, sugar. To this day, that combination of brown sugar and butter nails that nostalgic flavor profile, even when we are talking pie or pudding, and can we please? Because butterscotch is so good. Ree uses a little store-bought salted caramel for the tops of these individual pudding cups, and though it's not technically a butterscotch topping, trust us; it works.

Yes, wacky cake is another Depression-era cake, that can swap in water, oil, and vinegar for the more expensive dairy and eggs. But perhaps the wackiest property is that it takes the "one-bowl" cake one step farther. Skip the bowl here, and stir together the ingredients right in the cake pan. See? Wacky.

These cool and refreshing pie takes its name from the bright green cocktail, the grasshopper, which combines creme de menthe and creme de cacao. It's another icebox cake, so it's plenty easy to assemble. Some fresh mint as a garnish classes things up, but you won't miss it if you don't have any.

Oh, marble cake. If you were lucky, you had a grandma who made it and kept it on the counter to greet you after school. Though you can technically go marble in any kind of cake pan, the phenomenon of the marblized Bundt grew big in the midcentury, after the pan itself was invented in the 1950s.

We've all seen, in cookbooks, those fluorescent confections of bright green gelatins with orange carrots suspended in them, or worse. But this gelatin mold, subdued in its hues and delicate in flavor, breaks that mold (sorry). Though it does start with a package of cherry gelatin, it is gussied up with a spike of sherry, walnuts and real cherries. It is quite striking and grown-up tasting.

Rum balls! Depending on how good your grandmother's version was, you either flocked to or ran from that holiday cookie tin. Alex's version is a chocolate-lover's paradise, with lots of dark cocoa notes and chocolate sprinkles on top, for a textural bit of fun.