How This Pistachio Raspberry Cake Became My Oddball Favorite

I have this memory—sort of fuzzy around the edges—of discovering pistachios and raspberries together at a cousin’s birthday in Yorkshire (when I was way more focused on the balloons than the food). Funny how some flavours just hang around in your brain years later, and suddenly you get old enough for cake to be the highlight of a Saturday. Fast forward, and here I am, making this Pistachio Raspberry Cake whenever the mood hits. I once tried to bake it during a heatwave with sweat trickling down my back—absolutely not recommended, unless you’re into accidental saunas. Anyway, it’s a cake that’s crumbly, sweet, and just the right kind of tart. If you’re a snapper-upper of bargains like me, you might even get the nuts half price from the odd shop round the corner. Nifty, eh?

Why This Cake Pops Up on My Table Again (and Again)

Honestly, I make this whenever my family can’t decide what dessert they want (which is basically every holiday or weekend gathering). My lot goes wild for the nutty bits and then inevitably argue over who gets the slice with the most raspberry (I usually lose; I blame being too generous with my serving knife). Plus, if you’ve ever been in trouble with a friend and need a peace offering, this works… except the time I overbaked it and, well, let’s just say apologies fell flat as the cake did! Oh, and for whatever reason, making this always makes me feel just a bit posh—even if I’m still wearing my fluffy house slippers and old pj’s.

What You’ll Need (And a Few Sneaky Swaps)

1 cup shelled pistachios (I sometimes just use roasted salted if unsalted are nowhere to be found—just don’t tell my aunt. She’d faint.)
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour (You could sub a cup of almond meal in a pinch; the texture gets a touch more rustic, which isn’t a bad thing)
1 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt (Or skip it if your pistachios are mega-salty already—form experience, cake with surprise salt chunks is…memorable)
3/4 cup butter, softened (I once used margarine and regretted it; just saying)
1 cup sugar (My grandmother always used caster sugar, but normal sugar is genuinely fine)
3 eggs (Room temp, but if you forget, dunk them in warm water for a few mins. That’s what I do.)
1/2 cup plain yogurt (Sour cream is surprisingly great as well, actually. On second thought, maybe even whole milk works, but I’ve never tried it myself)
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups fresh raspberries (frozen totally work, just don’t thaw them—trust me, it gets mushy otherwise)
Powdered sugar, for dusting (optional but looks nice, especially if someone snaps a photo for the family WhatsApp)

Alright, Here’s What You Do (Don’t Panic)

Preheat your oven to 175°C/350°F. Line a round 9-inch tin with baking paper; or just grease it if you’re feeling lazy, but don’t skimp or you’ll be scraping cake bits out later (learnt the hard way).
Bash the pistachios in a food processor until they’re mostly fine—leave a few chunky bits for surprise crunch. If you’ve only got a rolling pin, honestly, pop them in a sandwich bag and whack away; quite therapeutic.
Whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt in a bowl. I always end up making a snowstorm with flour—if you’re tidier, I envy you.
Cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy. You know I usually sneak a taste here—even when I know there’s raw egg coming next. Live a little.
Add eggs one at a time, beating between, but don’t panic if it looks weirdly split; it always comes together after the yogurt goes in.
Mix in yogurt and vanilla, then tip in your dry mix. Fold gently. No need to go full gym mode here—just until streaks disappear.
Stir in most of the pistachios, keeping a small sprinkle for the top. It makes it look fancy (kinda like café cakes, you know).
Gently fold in raspberries. Frozen ones will make the batter stiffer, so don’t worry—just mix as little as possible.
Scoop into your pan, smooth out, then top with extra nuts. Bake for 40–50 mins. When the top is golden and a skewer comes out mostly clean (a crumb or two is okay), you’re there.
Cool in the tin for 20 minutes, then out onto a wire rack. This is the window where my husband usually appears, sniffing—like he’s got some kind of cake radar.
Dust with powdered sugar when it’s cool and marvel at your masterpiece (even if it’s a bit lopsided; it’s rustic, right?)

A Few Things I’ve Learned Along the Way (Notes!)

Once, I tried doubling the raspberries. Bad idea; the cake practically drowned and got soggy (edible by the spoonful, but not ideal).
I’ve forgotten to chop the pistachios before—whole nuts sink like stones! Give them a bash first.
If you’re out of vanilla, almond extract works, but use half as much unless you want a marzipan-scented kitchen for a week. Voice of experience there.

Twists & Experiments (Some Better Than Others!)

Swapping the raspberries for blueberries totally worked—sweeter, best with a squeeze of lemon in the mix.
I tried adding white chocolate chips once (too sweet for me, but the kids loved it; figures)
That time I went all “healthy” and cut the sugar by half? Cake had texture like rubber boots. Some things just aren’t meant to be tinkered with too much.

No Fancy Kit? No Problem

Having a mixer is handy, but if you’ve only got a wooden spoon and some elbow grease, it’ll still work—though maybe count it as your arm workout for the day.

Lost your wire rack? I use the grill pan sometimes, just prop it up on cups (hopefully clean ones—I learned that the hard way after it tasted faintly of onions once).

Storing Leftovers (Not That We Usually Have Any)

Supposedly keeps up to three days in an air-tight tin at room temp. I think it tastes better the next day, but honestly, in my house it never lasts more than a day. (There’s always those sneaky late-night snackers…not naming names, but it’s definitely not just the kids.)

How We Like to Serve It (Your Turn!)

We sometimes warm up slices and dollop with a bit of vanilla ice cream. Other times, just as it is with tea (Yorkshire, obviously). When it’s mum’s birthday, she insists on a tiny mountain of fresh berries on the side. Fair enough.

Things I’ve Messed Up Before (Pro Tips… Or Not)

I once tried to skip softening the butter and ended up with weird lumps everywhere. No fun. Microwave in short bursts if you must, but don’t melt it outright—then the cake’s like greasy pudding.
Don’t overmix after the flour’s in; I know, it’s tempting to keep going, but it gets tough quick. Age-old baking lesson, I suppose.
Actually, letting it cool properly before slicing is key—learned this after half the cake caved in when I went at it hot, all impatient (smelled too good, can you blame me?)

Real-Life Questions from Friends (Cake Hotline!)

Can I use another nut? Yep! Almonds work, or hazelnuts for a Nuttella-vibe. Once tried pecans—they brought a different sweetness.
Do I have to use yogurt? Short answer: nope. Sour cream, buttermilk, or thick plain milk works. I think Greek yogurt gives the best tang, but it’s not life or death.
Can I freeze this Pistachio Raspberry Cake? You can! Just don’t dust with sugar before freezing, wrap tight, and defrost at room temp. It might shed a few crumbs, but still tastes magic.
How do I keep the fruit from sinking? Toss the raspberries in a wee bit of flour before folding them in. Stops them sliding like stones to the bottom (usually).
My cake came out dense—what happened? Maybe overmixed? Or swapped something and forgot to adjust wet/dry stuff. Don’t fret; it happens to the best of us. Just call it a pancake and serve with syrup—no one minds a second dessert anyway!

Totally off-topic but—has anyone else noticed how baking brings folks into the kitchen who would never lift a finger otherwise? As soon as something’s in the oven, suddenly there’s a crowd.

So, whether your Pistachio Raspberry Cake comes out café-perfect or just “had a go,” here’s to home bakes that never last long enough to get boring.

Pistachio Raspberry Cake