Name: Old Fashioned Southern Tea Cakes
Prep time: 20 min
Cook time: 12 min
Total time: 92 min
Ingredients: 3 cups plain flour; 1 cup butter (softened); 1¾ cup granulated sugar; 2 large eggs; 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract; 1/2 teaspoon salt; 1/2 teaspoon baking soda; 1/4 teaspoon powdered nutmeg

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Picture a slow, golden afternoon—the kind that just begs you to slip off your shoes and let the world crawl by for a little while. Maybe the kitchen’s filled with sunlight, and you can hear the gentle tick of the stovetop clock. That’s always been my favorite time to pull out a timeworn family classic: soft, buttery Southern tea cakes. I grew up watching my mom and grandma whip up a batch on a whim, and the minute those sweet smells hit the air, you knew good things were happening. Whether it’s a lazy weekend or just a Tuesday when you need a little lift, these cookies are pure, uncomplicated comfort—no fuss, just love in every bite.

If you crave something truly old-fashioned (as in, “hold my pearls while I get the flour” old-fashioned) but can’t be bothered to measure out a zillion ingredients, you’ll adore these. The recipe has that charming, back-in-the-day simplicity: butter, sugar, eggs, and, just for fun, a hint of nutmeg. Seriously, that’s what makes the whole house smell like you’re living inside a bakery for a glorious forty-five minutes. I’ve made these so many times, I could probably do it in my sleep—though I wouldn’t recommend that, ha!

Why You’ll Love It

That soft, pillowy crumb—every bite is all about buttery goodness and gentle sweetness. Trust me, these just melt in your mouth.
A little freshly grated nutmeg wafts through the house as they bake (is there anything cozier than that?) and gives a subtle something-something to the flavor.
The ingredient list is blessedly simple—you almost certainly have everything you need already sitting in your pantry.
They’re the ultimate anytime treat: morning coffee? Absolutely. Afternoon snack? Treat yourself! Midnight kitchen drawer raid? I’m not judging.
Perfect for sharing at brunch or book club—or for tucking into a jar just for you.

Ingredients

Let’s talk pantry basics! This is one recipe where you don’t need anything fancy, but I’ll toss in a few of my favorite swaps and little flourishes.

3 cups (375 g) all-purpose flour (Stick with all-purpose for that classic, toothsome bite. Cake flour will make these almost too soft, if you ask me.)
1 cup (225 g) unsalted butter, softened (If you only have salted, that’s totally fine—just skip the added salt.)
1¾ cups (350 g) granulated sugar (I sometimes sneak in a hint of brown sugar, but white keeps them traditional.)
2 large eggs (Room temp is best, but don’t stress—cold eggs still work. Set them in warm water for 5 minutes if you remember.)
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract (Or up the ante with vanilla bean paste if you’re feelin’ swanky.)
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon freshly grated or ground nutmeg (Trust me, don’t skip it. Fresh is lovely but jarred is fine—I’ve used both!)

Optional twist: Add 1 teaspoon lemon zest if you’re craving something a bit citrusy. My sister—who thinks she’s the tea cake queen—swears by it.

Timing and Servings

This is one of those beautiful “quick, simple, but worth the wait” recipes. The dough comes together in just about 15 minutes (even less if you’re not distracted by a Taylor Swift playlist), but you do need to chill it for an hour. Loads of hands-off time to catch up on your favorite show. Baking takes just 10–12 minutes per batch. All told, you’re looking at just over an hour start to finish—plus the hardest part: waiting for them to cool down. You’ll get about 24 tea cakes… unless you believe in “cook’s tax,” in which case, expect a couple less!

And fair warning: I can’t be responsible for cookies mysteriously disappearing when kids (or husbands) wander through the kitchen.

Directions

Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Line a sturdy baking sheet with parchment or give it a loving coat of nonstick spray. I use my old warped baking sheet because… nostalgia.
Cream together the softened butter and sugar in a big mixing bowl until everything’s light and whipped—about 3 minutes with a hand mixer. Don’t just beat it a little; really go for pale and fluffy. This is where the “melt in your mouth” texture comes from.
Add the eggs in, one at a time, mixing well and scraping the bowl as you go. Then, stir in the vanilla—inhale deeply and smile.
In a separate bowl, whisk together flour, baking soda, salt, and that all-important nutmeg. Nobody wants a clump of soda or spice on their tongue.
Gradually mix the dry ingredients into the wet—about 1/3 at a time is perfect. Stir just until combined. Don’t overdo it, or you’ll lose the tender texture.
Scrape that lovely dough into a ball, wrap it tight in plastic, and chill for an hour. (This step is key! It keeps your tea cakes thick and prevents the dreaded “cookie spread.”)
Once nicely chilled, scoop out tablespoon-sized pieces and roll into 1-inch balls. Place them a couple inches apart on your prepped sheet because they do puff and spread slightly.
Flatten each ball gently with the bottom of a drinking glass, or if you love feeling rustic, just use the palm of your hand. If they’re a little wonky, all the better.
Bake for 10–12 minutes. Look for just-set edges and centers that look a bit pale—they’ll set up as they cool. DO NOT overbake! The magic happens in those last gooey moments.
Let them rest on the sheet for about 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack. If you sneak one while it’s still warm… well, that’s just the cook’s privilege.

Variations

Lemon Zest Tea Cakes: Brighten up with lemon zest mixed in with the sugar. These taste like sunshine—especially wonderful in spring or for afternoon tea.
Warm Spice Version: Add ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon. Come fall, your house will smell like a bakery. Maybe even add a pinch of ginger.
Almond Accent: Swap the vanilla extract for almond extract for a little “what is that?!” energy. This is secretly my favorite, but shh…
Glazed & Gorgeous: Drizzle cooled cakes with a simple glaze (powdered sugar and milk), just because you can. Perfect for special occasions—or for making Tuesdays feel fancy.
Buttermilk Dream: For extra-soft cakes, trade one egg for ¼ cup buttermilk. You get a little tang and the most irresistible texture.

Storage & Reheating Tips

I love that these tea cakes taste just as dreamy a day or two later—if they last that long (don’t bet on it). Here’s how to keep them just right:

Room Temp: Store cooled cookies in an airtight tin or pretty cake stand with a lid. They stay fresh for about 5 days—but disappear much faster here!
Fridge: If you (miraculously) have leftovers, stash in a zip-top bag for up to 10 days. For best results, let them come to room temp or nuke them for 10 seconds before devouring.
Freezer: For stockpiling, freeze layers of cookies in a container with parchment between them. They keep well for 3 months. Defrost at room temp, and give a quick 2-3 minute warm-up in the oven at 300°F (150°C) for that “freshly baked” magic.
To Reheat: Pop one or two in the oven for a few minutes, or a quick zap in the microwave if you’re impatient like me. Just watch out—overheating turns them into tea “bricks.”

FAQs

Can I use salted butter?
Absolutely! Just cut the added salt in the recipe or skip it altogether. You’ll get that rich, old-timey flavor—promise, your cookies won’t taste like a salt lick.

Why chill the dough?
Short answer: so your cookies bake up thick, soft, and perfect every time. Cold dough chills the butter, stops mega spreading, and gives the flavors a chance to really get to know one another.

My tea cake edges brown too quickly—help!
Try moving your oven rack down or rotate your tray halfway through. Every oven has its “moods,” but that usually does the trick for even baking.

Can I make the dough ahead?
You sure can! Make it the night before and bake when you need. Wrapped and chilled, it’ll be just fine in the fridge for up to 24 hours. Perfect for “planned spontaneity!”

Conclusion

I honestly believe nothing brings a sense of home into the kitchen quite like a batch of old-fashioned tea cakes—something soft, golden, and ever-so-slightly nostalgic cooling on the counter. These are the cookies for tea time, family gatherings, or sneaky late-night nibbles when you’re the last one awake. They don’t demand perfection—just a little time, a pinch of patience, and an eagerness for something cozy. If you decide to bake a batch, I’d love to hear how it went! Did you add a little twist? Did they disappear in five minutes flat? Pull up a chair and share your thoughts (or your family’s secret tea cake stories) in the comments below. Here’s to simple joys, beloved traditions, and having a full cookie jar whenever you need a little comfort. Enjoy, friend—these are straight from my heart (and my kitchen) to yours.