Swedish Princess Cakes (Prinsesstårta) – Traditional Recipe & Guide

Okay, so swedish princess cakes… they look like the kind of thing you’d only find behind a bakery glass, right? That perfect green dome, the delicate rose on top, the impossibly neat layers inside. It almost dares you to try making it yourself—and maybe you’ve thought, “There’s no way I can pull that off.” I did too. Until I tried.

The truth? It’s actually not as impossible as it looks. ” This in-depth guide to making the iconic Prinsesstårta at home dives into the history, flavor layers, and step-by-step method if you’re craving more context before rolling up your sleeves.” Yes, there are layers (sponge, raspberry jam, vanilla custard, whipped cream—oh my). And yes, it takes some time. But it’s the kind of recipe that gives back everything you put in, and then some. It feels like an accomplishment—one you can slice and serve.

This isn’t just a dessert in Sweden. It’s part of celebrations, part of memories. And once you’ve made it, it sort of becomes part of yours too. You start tweaking it, adding your spin, maybe swapping a layer, maybe not. And every time, it somehow tastes like a tiny celebration of the effort itself.

So if you’ve been waiting for a sign to try making swedish princess cakes, this is it. I’ll walk you through each part with just enough guidance to keep it real—because honestly, perfection is overrated, but pride in what you’ve made? That’s everything.

Ingredients for Swedish Princess Cakes

Alright, time to gather the good stuff. Swedish princess cakes aren’t about fancy tricks—they’re about building soft, dreamy layers that somehow just work together. Don’t overthink it. But do use fresh ingredients—you’ll taste the difference.

For the Sponge Cake (you want it light, not dense):

• 4 large eggs (room temp—don’t skip this)
• ½ cup + 2 tbsp granulated sugar (about 120g)
• 1 cup all-purpose flour, sifted (seriously, sift it)
• 1 tsp baking powder
• A small pinch of salt
• ½ tsp real vanilla extract

If your sponge has ever turned out dry or heavy, odds are it was overmixed or under-beaten. This one’s all about the air—handle it gently.

For the Vanilla Custard (this layer is the heart):

• 2 cups whole milk
• 4 egg yolks (save the whites for an omelet or meringue)
• 3 tbsp cornstarch
• 5 tbsp sugar (don’t skimp here)
• 1 tsp vanilla bean paste (or extract, if that’s what you’ve got)
• 1 tbsp butter (added at the end for silkiness)

Don’t rush the custard. Low and slow on the heat, constant stirring. It’s not hard, but it will punish multitasking.

For the Jam Layer:

• ½ cup good raspberry jam (smooth is traditional, but you do you)
• Optional: splash of lemon juice if your jam is super sweet

For the Whipped Cream Filling:

• 2 cups heavy cream (cold!)
• 2 tbsp powdered sugar
• A dash of vanilla extract

If you’ve got stabilizer or mascarpone, a spoonful can help hold the shape longer. Not essential though.

For the Marzipan Dome:

• 400g marzipan (store-bought or homemade)
• Green gel food coloring (start tiny—this stuff is potent)
• Optional: pink marzipan for the rose + powdered sugar for rolling

Pro tip: chill the marzipan before rolling. Warm marzipan = tears and tears (the ripping and the emotional kind).

Is homemade marzipan worth it?

Honestly? Only if you love a project. It’s doable (almond flour, powdered sugar, egg white), but store-bought works beautifully. Just pick one with a high almond percentage—30% or more if you can find it. The flavor payoff is real.

Instructions: How to Actually Pull Off Sweedish Princess Cake

There’s a rhythm to this cake. Not fast, not rushed—more like deliberate pacing. If you try to power through it in one shot, it might fight back. But if you let it breathe? It’ll come together, layer by layer, into something kind of beautiful.

Step 1: Sponge Layer — Gentle Is the Name of the Game

• Start with a preheated oven: 350°F (175°C). Springform pan, 9-inch. Parchment on the bottom. Butter the sides if you don’t trust your pan (I don’t).
• In a big bowl, beat 4 eggs and the sugar until it’s pale, thick, and ribbons off the whisk. This is your structure. Undermix it, and you’re starting soft.
• Sift together the flour, baking powder, and a pinch of salt. Fold in carefully—no flour clouds, no aggressive stirring. Just soft wrist flicks and patience.
• Vanilla goes in last. Pour the batter into the pan, smooth the top, and bake it for 25ish minutes. When it’s golden and springs back, it’s done.
• Cool it down—really down. Then slice into three even layers. A long serrated knife helps. Don’t rush this part. Crumbs are the enemy of layering.

Step 2: Custard — No Distractions Allowed

• In a bowl, whisk yolks, sugar, and cornstarch until it turns creamy and loose.
• Heat milk in a pot until just barely steaming. Then temper—drizzle that milk into the yolk mix, whisking constantly. If you dump it all in? You’ll make custard scrambled eggs. (Been there.)
• Pour it all back into the pan. Stir over medium-low heat. Watch it. Feel it. It thickens slowly… then all at once.
• Off heat, stir in vanilla and butter. It should look smooth, glossy, and a little luxurious. Chill it with plastic wrap touching the surface. No skin allowed.

Step 3: Whipped Cream — Peak Management

• Cold cream, cold bowl. Add sugar and vanilla. Whip until soft peaks form. Not stiff, not runny—just enough to hold a dome.
• Overwhipped? Add a splash of cream and fold. You can save it.

Step 4: Assembly — A Sculptor’s Moment

• First layer down. Raspberry jam first (don’t overdo it), then custard.
• Second sponge layer. More custard. Then pile the whipped cream in the middle, like you’re building a snow hill.
• Top layer goes on gently. Press around the edges first, then the top, shaping that signature dome. It won’t be perfect—and that’s fine.
• Chill the whole thing for 30 minutes. It firms up, and makes your marzipan life easier.

Step 5: Marzipan — Soft Armor

• Knead your marzipan with green coloring until evenly tinted. Don’t overwork it—it’ll crack. Powdered sugar your surface, then roll into a circle big enough to cover the dome with room to spare.
• Drape it gently over the cake. Start from the center, smooth downward with cupped hands. Go slow. Coax it into place. Trim the excess with a knife.
• Finish with powdered sugar, maybe a pink marzipan rose if you’re feeling ceremonial.

Can you do this over two days?

Absolutely. Day one: sponge and custard. Day two: assembly and marzipan. The fridge is your best friend here—it actually makes the layers hold better.

Tips & Tricks for Swedish Princess Cake Recipe

This cake doesn’t reward perfectionism. It rewards presence — being just a bit more mindful at each step. That said, here are some learned-the-hard-way insights that might save you a headache (or two marzipan tears).

Get That Sponge Right — Or Nothing Works

• Don’t undermix the eggs and sugar. If you don’t hit that thick, ribbon stage, your sponge won’t rise enough. It should fall from the whisk like lava.
• Cool before slicing. Trying to cut warm sponge is like trying to fold a hot towel. Let it chill for clean, even layers.
• Serrated knife, steady hands. No sawing back and forth—just long, confident strokes.

Custard Needs Your Full Attention

• Tempering is not optional. Pouring hot milk into cold yolks too fast = sweet scrambled eggs. Go slow.
• Stir constantly once it’s back on heat. Stop for 10 seconds, and it’ll scorch or lump. This part is hands-on.
• It thickens suddenly. Don’t wait for it to look perfect in the pot—once it coats a spoon, pull it.

Marzipan: Friend or Foe?

• Chill the cake before draping. A warm dome will melt the marzipan. That never ends well.
• Work fast but gently. Marzipan softens quickly. Roll it thin, lift with both arms (or a rolling pin), and commit.
• Patch-ups are normal. A tear isn’t failure. Use scraps to fill gaps, then dust with sugar. No one will know.

Other Small but Mighty Tips

• Don’t skip the whipped cream dome. It gives the cake its shape and signature bounce.
• Want more stability? Fold a spoonful of mascarpone into the whipped cream. Holds longer, slices cleaner.
• Practice makes calm. If this is your first time, it might not look perfect. But it’ll taste incredible.

Why does my marzipan look sweaty?

That’s moisture escaping from the whipped cream layer underneath. Chill the cake before applying the marzipan, and don’t wrap it too tight. If it still happens, blot gently and dust with sugar before serving.

Substitutions & Variations for Swedish Princess Cakes

Here’s the thing: no one’s going to show up with a checklist and tell you your cake isn’t authentic enough. Swedish princess cakes feel fancy, but they’re actually pretty forgiving. You can tweak, substitute, and adapt them to what you have—or what your guests need. Honestly, half the time you’re just doing your best with what’s in the fridge.

When Time’s Not on Your Side

Maybe you’re making this on a Thursday night. Maybe your custard didn’t set right. Either way—yes, shortcuts exist.

• Vanilla pudding from a box? Yep, it works. Just pick a good one and whisk it smooth.
• You can buy a sponge cake if you’re really pressed. Ask your bakery for an uncut round. It won’t be cloud-light, but no one will notice under all that cream.
• Whipped cream from a can? Only if it’s an emergency. It melts too fast. Instead, try stabilized whipped topping if you need something with stamina.

Baking for Dietary Needs?

Absolutely do-able. You’re not locked into eggs, wheat, or dairy.

• Gluten-free flour blends work, just go slow when folding—it’s easy to lose the rise.
• Oat milk or almond milk can sub into the custard with a touch of cornstarch boost.
• Whipped coconut cream (from a can, chilled overnight) makes a dreamy dairy-free alternative. Bonus: subtle tropical vibe.

Flavor Swaps That Still Feel Nordic

Maybe you want a little twist. Go for it.

• Lingonberry jam brings sharper contrast than raspberry—very Swedish grandma.
• A touch of almond extract in the custard ties it to the marzipan and adds depth.
• No marzipan? Try a thin fondant layer or even a whipped cream finish with toasted almonds on top. Not traditional, but still regal.

Is it still a princess cake if I mess with the layers?

If it makes someone pause after the first bite and smile… yes, it absolutely counts. The layers are a blueprint, not a rulebook.

FAQ: Swedish Princess Cakes — What You’re Probably Wondering

Can I make the cake ahead of time without wrecking it?

Yes, and you should. The layers need time to settle into each other. I usually build everything the day before—sponge, jam, custard, cream dome—and let it rest overnight. The marzipan, though? Add it the next morning. If you put it on too early, it starts to sweat or sag, especially if your fridge runs humid.

My custard isn’t thick enough. Am I screwed?

Not necessarily. If it’s still warm, return it to low heat and stir gently—it might catch up. If it’s already cold and thin? You can fold in some softly whipped cream to give it body. Will it be textbook? No. Will it hold in a layer and still taste amazing? Yeah, actually.

What if I hate marzipan?

You’re not alone. It’s love-it-or-leave-it. If it’s a flavor thing, try white fondant or even skip the dome and just use whipped cream over the top. Dust with powdered sugar, garnish with berries—no one’s walking away mad.

Can I refrigerate leftovers?

Definitely. Just cover it loosely—plastic wrap, cake dome, whatever you have—and stash it in the fridge. It holds for about 2–3 days. After that, the cream softens, and the marzipan gets a little weepy. Still edible, just not something you’d bring to impress a guest.

I’ve never made a cake like this. Am I in over my head?

Honestly? No. It looks elaborate, but each step is straightforward. The challenge is more about pacing than skill. If you can beat eggs, stir custard, and not panic when rolling marzipan—you’re fine. And the first time someone says, “You made that?” — you’ll know it was worth every layer.

Nutrition Information (If You Care About That Sort of Thing)

Let’s not pretend this is diet food. Swedish princess cakes are layered with sponge, custard, whipped cream, jam, and marzipan—on purpose. It’s a celebratory dessert, not a protein bar. But if you’re still curious (because let’s be honest, most of us are), here’s a loose breakdown per slice (based on 10 servings):

• Calories: ~430
• Fat: ~24g (roughly half saturated)
• Carbs: ~45g (sugar: ~28g)
• Protein: ~6g
• Fiber: ~1g
• Sodium: ~120mg

This isn’t forensic-level accuracy—it varies with your ingredients, how heavy your cream is, how generous your custard layer gets. But you get the general idea: rich, satisfying, and not pretending to be anything else.

Is it possible to lighten it up?

Sure. But it depends on your definition of “light.” You can:

• Use less cream or swap in a lighter plant-based version.
• Thin the marzipan or skip it altogether (the almond haters among us won’t mind).
• Cut smaller slices. (Let’s be real—this is the only tweak that works instantly.)

But honestly? If you’re going to eat princess cake, eat it. Like, really eat it. This isn’t the moment to count macros. It’s the moment to pass plates around and watch someone’s eyes light up after that first bite.

A Cake Worth Every Layer

Swedish princess cakes aren’t quick. They’re not casual. They’re not the kind of thing you throw together between errands. But maybe that’s the point.

They ask something of you—time, care, a little bit of courage if you’ve never rolled marzipan before. And in return, they give you that rarest kind of kitchen victory: the kind where people lean in, take a bite, and say nothing for a second. Just a small pause of genuine surprise. That you made this.

Whether you follow the traditional path or put your own spin on it, whether your dome is flawless or a little lopsided—it doesn’t really matter. What matters is the feeling it carries. The kind of cake that says: this moment was worth marking.

If you try it, tell someone. Better yet, share it with someone. Cakes like this were made for more than just eating—they were made for remembering.