The Battle of the Carrot Cakes: An Easter Saga

Carrot cake, to me, has always been a take-it-or-leave-it situation. If it’s got raisins in it, obviously it’s terrible. But it’s so often perfectly moist with such a lovely layer of cream cheese frosting, I’ve never been able to completely stay away from it. Eleanor, I suspect, shared exactly my sentiments: it’s a non-chocolate dessert, and as such, it’s immediately suspect. But it has cream cheese frosting (one step away from cheesecake for a die-hard cheesecake fan), nuts, and it’s a veritable classic—all points in its favour. Also, Easter and Lent were always a big deal to Eleanor, so I could see these carrot cake recipes being go-tos for her around this time of year… although in 1950s Florida without air conditioning, it doesn’t take a lot of imagination to envision this frosting melting right off the cake.

Up until this week, I don’t think I have ever made a carrot cake. Having now made two in less than a week, I can tell you with a fair amount of surety that these recipes are practically foolproof. One of them doesn’t even involve a mixer, and both are so perfectly moist you’ll be shocked at how you can slice through them like warm butter. Also, both cakes are dairy-free (except for the frosting).

If you’re not big on Easter, carrot cake is still a good springtime treat—somehow lighter than a chocolate cake, but not requiring any fruit that’s not in season yet. Plus, let’s be real: cream cheese frosting is the best frosting, but so often comes out grainy or just too heavy… not so this frosting. If you’re a fan of frosting, might I recommend (heartily) the below frosted version? It’s the best cream cheese frosting I’ve ever tasted, and I’m already plotting all the future cakes I can top with it.

That said, if you’re heading to a brunch-y Easter gathering, the unfrosted, bundt pan version of this cake is sturdy, easily transportable, comes together with only a large bowl, a whisk, and a grater, and is the perfect weekend breakfast treat.* (If you’re curious how I know this, it’s because I brought it to work to celebrate a co-worker’s birthday, and we all nibbled thick slices at half past ten on a Wednesday morning. We regretted nothing.)

If you’re only going to have a chance to make one carrot cake (which, unless you’re me, is all the carrot cake a normal person can deal with in a single month), then I wholly recommend the frosted version below. It’s moist, fresh, nutty and somehow buttery, despite the fact that there is not a drop of butter in the whole cake. But it’s also a bit fragile (from all that moistness) and it’s going to be a pain to transport it if you wanted to take it to a party. Team it with a strong espresso if you're hosting Easter dinner and everyone will love it. Plus, there’s no divisive fruit in it to make any non-raisin eaters jealous.

If, however, you’re not a frosting person, you’re more into the traditional carrot cake with dried fruit included, or you need to take this cake somewhere with you, then make the bundt version. It’s even easier, faster, and still tasty and moist with the perfect crispness just around the edges. Plus, you can pretty easily convince yourself or anyone else that this one is breakfast food, so it deserves some points just for that.

*The recipe actually calls for an angel food cake pan, which I assume means a tube pan. But I hate angel food cake and refuse to buy a pan specifically for a food that I don’t even like, so I used my bundt pan. It turned out fine, and when I brought it in to work, one guy thought I had carved the cake into a wheel shape, complete with the ridges all the way around. So maybe consider using a bundt pan if you want everyone to think you’re super talented.

The verdict:
Carrot cake 1: Perfect Carrot Layer Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting

5 spoons out of five. This cake was so good, we and the houseguests we shared it with all ate it for breakfast at various points. I can’t overstate the perfection of the icing!

Carrot Cake 2: Easiest Carrot Breakfast Bundt Cake

5 spoons out of five. I know the point of pitting these two against each other was to determine which was better, but they were both so amazing I just couldn’t choose. They’re unique enough that I’m glad to have both in my arsenal and will always revert to this one for a brunch situation or whenever I need to transport a cake across town, as this one is the sturdier of the two.

Easter recipes, previously: Easter Bread & Hot Cross Buns

One year ago: Quiche a la Bramafam (Tomato & Caramelised Onion Tart)

The recipe:

Perfect Carrot Layer Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting

the directions:
cake:

Preheat oven to 150C/300F.
Line 2 8' pans with baking paper on the bottom and set aside.
Cream sugar and oil until fluffy.
Add eggs and beat well.
In a separate bowl, sift together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt and cinnamon.
Add flour mixture to creamed mixture, then fold in carrots and nuts gently, just until combined.
Pour into prepared pans and bake 25-30 minutes until a pick inserted in the middle comes out barely sticky.

Frosting:

Beat all ingredients together, chill frosting slightly, then fill and frost cake once completely cool.

the ingredients:
the cake:

2 c sugar
¾ c vegetable oil
4 eggs
2 c flour
2 tsp baking powder
1 ½ tsp soda
1 tsp salt
2 tsp cinnamon
3 c carrots, grated
½ c pecans, chopped

the frosting:

½ c butter, melted
1 c cream cheese, softened
2 c powdered sugar, sifted
1 tsp vanilla
1 c pecans, chopped

---

The recipe:

Easiest Carrot Breakfast Bundt Cake

the directions:

Preheat oven to 160C/325F.
Grease and flour a bundt pan and set aside.
Mix sugar and oil together in a large bowl.
Add eggs, one at a time.
In a few batches, add flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, and salt.
Add carrots, vanilla, nuts, and dates, stirring well after each addition to make sure the batter is well-incorporated.
Bake 50 minutes to 1 hour until a pick inserted into the middle comes out clean.
Let cool slightly, then turn out to cool completely.
If serving immediately, dust with powdered sugar-- otherwise skip it or it will get clumpy.

the ingredients:

2 c sugar
1 ½ c vegetable oil
4 eggs
3 c flour, sifted
2 tsp baking powder
2 tsp baking soda
2 tsp cinnamon
1 ½ tsp salt
2 c carrots, grated
1 tsp vanilla
2/3 c pecans, chopped
1 c dates, chopped
Powdered sugar for dusting (if serving immediately)

Irish Soda Bread

I've realised that there are a lot of weird things I consider Irish: the colour green and shamrocks, of course, but also archery, a girl who only has brothers, Tuesdays, peg legs, the number eleven and fog. I don't know where most of those things came from, but I'd hazard a guess that if you dug deeply enough, you'd find traces of Eleanor's best friend, my Aunt Margie, in there somewhere. Margie, as we've discussed before, was about as Irish as they come, and I assumed that her presence in Eleanor's life was the reason I couldn't find any Irish recipes in the recipe box when I searched it in advance of St. Patrick's Day last year.

But then a terrible thing happened, and on 18 March of last year, I found a recipe for Irish Soda Bread in the box. One day too late to put it to use for St. Patrick's Day, I knew I'd have to hold onto it until this year... because who knows, maybe it's bad luck to make soda bread on other days if you live in Scotland.

So here we are, a year later, and I've been dying to share this with you ever since I made it two weeks ago. I made this bread with every intention of taking it to work with me, but then I tasted it and I was smitten... so smitten I couldn't bare to share. Judson liked it so much he went back for seconds when we cut into it, and we savoured every last bite until the loaf was gone.

Having just spent a few days in Belfast last month, I never thought my soda bread would measure up to what I tasted while we were there (and oh, man, the food in Belfast was incredible). But then I made this bread and, though it had a different texture than the smooth, velvety soda bread we ate at every chance in Northern Ireland, it was so good.* Sweet and moist with a crunchy crust and a perfectly chewy centre, stitched through with currants and warm butter, this bread is the perfect way to embrace the Irish roots you know you've always wanted.

Plus, it's shaped like a shamrock, so, I mean, what better time of year to whip yourself up a loaf?

If you can't get your hands on currants, it's no big deal: swap them for golden raisins, dried cherries or just leave them out. This bread doesn't need any dressing up: serve it warm from the oven doused in melted butter and sprinkled with powdered sugar and that's all you need for a delicious, warming breakfast treat.

*I'm pretty sure a real Irish person would not qualify this as soda bread, but, since St. Patrick's Day these days is more of a non-Irish holiday anyway, who am I to quibble?

The verdict:

5 spoons out of five. This is the perfect early spring, warming, toasty breakfast to help you celebrate St. Patrick's Day (or any day!) in style.

One Year ago: Creamy, Dreamy Cheesecake

The recipe:

Irish Soda Bread

the directions:

Preheat oven to 190C/375F.
Lightly grease a small baking sheet.
Into a large mixing bowl, sift flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.
Mix in butter until mixture looks like coarse crumbs.
Add raisins and stir until just combined.
Add buttermilk and stir with a fork until dry ingredients are uniformly moistened.
Turn out onto floured counter and knead just until smooth (30 seconds-ish).
Shape into a ball and place on prepared baking sheet.
Press into a flattened circle with a diameter a little longer than your hand.
Coat a sharp knife in flour and slice in half almost all the way to the bottom of the loaf, then turn 90 degrees and repeat to divide loaf into quarters that are still connected at the bottom.
Bake 20-25 minutes until top of loaf is golden and sounds hollow when tapped.
Remove from oven, brush with melted butter, and sprinkle loaf with powdered sugar.
Serve immediately because it's too good not to, but bread will last for three more days if kept in an airtight container.

the ingredients:

2 c flour, sifted
2 tbsp sugar
2 tsp baking soda
3 tbsp butter, softened, plus extra for melting
½ tsp salt
1 c buttermilk
½ c currants

Marshmallow Lime Chiffon Pie

If you live Stateside, then today is Pi Day (3/14). But over here in the UK, the date is written 14/3, so it's not really a holiday that anyone here celebrates.

Never to be foiled by being in a country that doesn't celebrate the same holidays as I want to (and never one to miss an opportunity for pie!) here's a double-whammy holiday recipe for you: it's a pie for Pi Day but it's also green for St. Patrick's Day later this week!* And it's also terrible.

Oh, sorry-- did that come as a surprise to you? Maybe you didn't read the title, which includes both marshmallow and lime. Or perhaps you ignored that photo up there. Or maybe you didn't scroll straight through to the ingredients like I always do to see that this recipe includes lime jello, egg yolks, and marshmallows, and also that it is a nearly-glowing shade of green.

Anyway, I tried to keep an open mind about this recipe, I really did. It's been at least a decade since I had Jello, and even longer since I've had lime Jello, so I was hoping maybe it wasn't as bad as I was thinking it would be. From the second I opened the packet of Jello powder, the entire kitchen smelled like Pine-Sol, and it was hard to stay optimistic after that. But still I persevered. I dissolved the Jello in water, set it aside, and then scrambled some egg yolks. The instructions say to heat the egg yolks slowly with sugar and lemon juice, but, not wanting to scramble the egg yolks by heating them too quickly, I turned the heat as low as it would go so I'd keep a nice smooth custard.

But I didn't count on what happened when I added the lemon juice: it curdled the egg yolks instantly. No matter how much I heated them (or didn't heat them), the egg yolks were curdled, lumpy, and not going to come back together. So I strained out the curdled bits and tried to proceed. But then trying to stir the custard mixture into the still-warm Jello also didn't work (the egg mix floated on top), and then adding whipped egg whites just made the entire thing frothy. Plus, I live in a country with no mini marshmallows, so I had to snip up full-sized ones, which didn't dissolve and took up way too much space in my pie tin. What I'm saying here is this: this is a terrible recipe and you shouldn't make it. Unless you really like lime Jello (or marshmallows), in which case you should just pour some Jello into a pie crust, let it set, and then top it with marshmallows, because this is just not worth it.

*Technically, Scots don't celebrate St. Patrick's Day either... but since the holiday has its origins in the British Isles, I'm counting it. Though I promise a better St. Patrick's Day recipe later this week, so stay tuned! 

The verdict:

0 spoons out of five. I reserve the zero spoons ratings for things that legitimately didn't work, and, based on the picture that accompanies this recipe, which shows a tall, fluffy, pale green concoction with the marshmallows sunken into a single layer at the bottom... well, in comparison, this didn't work.

one year ago: French pudding (another disaster!)

The recipe:

Marshmallow Lime Chiffon Pie

the directions:

Dissolve gelatin in boiling water and set aside.
Combine egg yolks, 1/3 c sugar, lemon juice, and salt.
Stir over very low heat until slightly thickened (this will take awhile).
Remove from heat and blend in gelatin, stirring well.
Chill until slightly thick, meanwhile, beat egg whites until they form soft peaks.
Beat remaining 1/3 c sugar into whites, then fold into gelatin mixture.
Add marshmallows and stir well, then pour into pre-baked pie crust.
Top with shredded coconut and chill until firm, then serve... or don't.

the ingredients:

3 oz lime gelatin (this is one standard-sized US box)
1 c boiling water
2 eggs, separated
2/3 c sugar, divided
¼ c lemon juice
¼ tsp salt
2 c mini marshmallows or regular marshmallows, snipped into small pieces
1 prepared pie crust
½ c shredded coconut