Carrot cake: for the birthday girl

Carrot Cake: for my daughter's first birthday

and also her fifteenth

The recipe is blotted with my positive review

and the subsequent spatterings which indicate

frequent usage!

I just took my Carrot Cake out of the oven, and the air is richly perfumed with cinnamon and so many memories of birthdays past.

I first made this perennial favorite for my oldest daughter's first birthday.

I can't recall why; perhaps I thought that the pureed carrots made it appropriate for a toddler? Certainly I tend to think of it as a wholesome cake. It is a dense, moist cake, too. You never have to worry about it slumping or tasting dry; it is sturdy and reliable, and it lasts for days . . . assuming there aren't more than two parents plus a birthday girl to eat it. (If you've got a crowd, I have found that people tend to be greedy. Don't count on left-overs!) I make this cake at least once every year; if I don't make it, people get a bit plaintive.

Just a taste of carrot cake!

Although I rarely look at our old photo albums, today I indulged in a fit of nostalgia. So much has changed, but my girl still has the same cheeky grin -- albeit, toothier.

My baby girl

Last night I couldn't sleep, and I started thinking about the night 15 years before when I lay awake all night with mild contractions. I remember feeling ready to get on with it: I wanted to meet my girl.

I remember being vaguely aware that nothing but would ever be the same again.

My daughter was born at 2:18 pm on June 17 in the Royal Berkshire Hospital in Reading, England after what I like to describe as "inadvertent natural labor." Named after both grandmothers, she was the first grandchild on both sides of the family. My first impression on meeting her was that she looked just like her father! That similarity is more than skin-deep; she is smart and strong-willed, also like her father.

She walked early, talked early, read early . . . and now she is anxious to grow up and assert her independence in other ways. This year has been one of enormous physical and emotional change, and sometimes it is hard for me to keep up.

I suppose that is why I am grateful for these small rituals, these paper-chains of continuity between the past and the present.

Carrot Cake: at my birthday girl's request.

Berta’s Carrot Cake
(from The New Basics Cookbook, Julee Rosso and Sheila Lukins)

Ingredients:

2 cups all-purpose or plain flour (if weighed in ounces, it will be approx. 12 oz)
2 cups granulated sugar (16 oz)
2 teaspoons baking soda
2 teaspoons cinnamon
1 cup (8 oz) corn oil
3 large eggs, lightly beaten
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 1/3 cups pureed cooked carrots (approximately 10 2/3 oz)
1 cup (8 oz) chopped walnuts
1 cup (8 oz) moist sweetened coconut
¾ cup crushed pineapple, drained (approximately 6 oz)

Method:

Preheat the oven to 350 F/175 C. Line two 9 inch cake tins with waxed paper and grease the sides.

Sift the flour, sugar, baking soda and cinnamon together in a large mixing bowl. Add the oil, eggs, and vanilla, and beat well. Then fold in the carrots, walnuts, coconut and pineapple. (I use my Kitchen Aid mixer for all of these steps; run it on low for the last step and scrape the sides well.)

Divide the batter between the two tins and place on the middle rack of the preheated oven. The cake will need approximately an hour to cook through. The edges will pull away from the sides of the tin and a toothpick will come out clean when it is ready.

Cool the cakes in the tin for 10 minutes, and then invert them onto a baking rack and let completely cool before frosting.

This cake tastes really delicious and wholesome without frosting, but for a birthday cake you are going to need great creamy gobs of cream cheese frosting.

Cream Cheese Frosting

Ingredients:

8 oz cream cheese, at room temperature
6 tablespoons (3 oz) unsalted butter, at room temperature
3 cups (approximately 18 oz) confectioners/icing sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Juice of ½ lemon
Method:

Cream the cream cheese and butter together until smooth and well-incorporated.

Slowly sift in the icing sugar, and continue beating until smooth (no lumps!). Stir in the vanilla and lemon juice. Adjust the sugar for thickness. It needs to be fairly thick or it will slide off the cake!

You may want to garnish the cake with finely chopped walnuts and/or grated coconut. Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don’t.

An Oldie but a Goodie (not my husband, but the dessert)

Tiramisu, two-thirds gone

I’m not sure why, but the January birthday season definitely had a retro flavor this year. After years of loyalty to carrot cake, we revisited the desserts from our yesteryears: I had Italian Cream Cake, little daughter had Red Velvet cupcakes and Sigmund had Tiramisu.

When Sigmund and I first started dating, in the early 90s, tiramisu was all the rage. It was the hot new thing which quickly became the ubiquitous and predictable thing; however, we truly loved it. On our first date, at the legendary Carrabba’s on Kirby, we shared one. For years afterward, if it was on the menu, Sigmund invariably ordered it.

When our youngest daughter was born, we couldn’t decide on a name. My parents were staying with us – we lived in Trinidad at the time – and each day we would come up with some names to present to Sigmund. (Eventually, we both had to come up with short-lists and proceed by process of elimination.) I remember someone, probably my mother, suggesting that we name the baby “Tiramisu.” Just say that with a drawling Texas accent: TARA-ME-SUE. It was even better with our Italian surname! (Of course, we didn’t name our child after a dessert; but funnily enough, she loves tiramisu and is sure to order it if it appears on the menu.)

I don’t know when it stopped being Sigmund’s default dessert . . . but at some point, there was that thought: I haven’t had tiramisu in ages! Don’t you agree that some of the best things in life are the rediscovered old loves?

There are many, many recipes for tiramisu, but I like the one from The New Basics Cookbook. It employs all of the crucial ingredients: ladyfingers, mascarpone cheese, espresso, an orange liqueur, Marsala wine and chocolate. Also, the texture is just right – creamy, but not too “wet,” like some restaurant versions. The crucial thing, as far as I’m concerned, is to make homemade ladyfingers for the sponge base. Now some people think that store-bought, commercial ladyfingers are fine, but I think that you need that “from scratch” touch. Ladyfingers aren’t difficult to make, especially if you have a good mixer, but they require a tiny bit of patience. I realize that my idea of a tiny bit of patience (when it comes to baking matters) is subjective. However, I promise that this recipe is its own reward.

Ladyfingers (my mother’s recipe)

Ingredients:

6 egg yolks
4 egg whites
¾ cup caster sugar
1 cup sifted flour
Powdered (confectioner’s) sugar

Method:

Beat the 6 egg yolks until they are light, and then add ¼ cup of sugar. (You can use your paddle attachment or your whisk attachment, but you will definitely need the whisk for the next step. I use separate bowls and separate attachments so I don’t have to wash up between steps.)

In a separate bowl, beat the 4 egg whites until they are foamy. Gradually add ½ cup of sugar until the mixture is glossy and stiff – but not dry. It should look like this:

Carefully fold the egg white mixture into the egg yolk mixture. Then, sift the cup of flour – gradually – into the mixture and fold in with a large spatula. Use as delicate of a touch as possible.

Working quickly, the mixture can either be piped onto a wax paper-covered cookie sheet – or just spooned on. I do the latter, as you are going to break up the ladyfingers for this recipe anyway. I just spoon the batter into rough, fat fingers. Peasant fingers, I guess!

Cook for approximately 10-12 minutes; they should turn a slightly rosy color, not quite tan. Loosen at once with a spatula and dry between wax/parchment paper in an airtight tin. Sprinkle with powdered sugar before serving.

I believe that most people perform acts of devotion in their lives – we only disagree as to what we think is worth the extra bother. I’m sure that I’m sloppy and slapdash when it comes to lots of things, but I have a shortlist of things that matter to me:

A hand-written thank you note
A beautifully wrapped present
Pressed sheets
Homemade birthday cake

Happy Birthday, Sigmund! Actually, you are a bit of an oldie . . . but SUCH a goodie

Happy Birthday to ME

A birthday offering to myself

Italian Cream Cake

If I had known how much spoiling I was going to get today, I wouldn't have dreaded my birthday so much! Sigmund and the girls overwhelmed me with a stack of delicious books, anti-ageing skin care products (should I be offended?), a special dinner away with friends and a pair of diamond earrings. What a way to ease the pain of January! I also got lovely cards, funny cards and a few slightly rude cards . . . which, nevertheless, made me snort with laughter.
Two of my favorites are:

My idea of housework is

to sweep the room with a glance

and

Inside me lives a skinny woman

crying to get out.

But I can usually shut the bitch up

with cookies!

This last sentiment (oh yes, the truth does hurt) from one of my walking partners . . .

As with so many things in life, it is tough to maintain the proper balance between exercise and baked goods. On my birthday, I don't even try. Let me eat cake is my mantra.

For some reason, this year I had a yen for Italian Cream Cake. I hadn't made one in years, partly because mine never tastes quite as good as my grandmother's always did. When I was a child, it was my favorite cake -- and it made a perennial appearance at birthdays, especially the one I shared with my grandfather. I was the first grandchild to be born, on both sides of the family, and it was truly the catbird seat. My grandfather was the rather stern father of two boys, but he was a loving, indulgent grandfather to me. As far as I can tell, I got the biggest portion of his sweetness.

My grandfather had a notable sweet tooth, and I particularly remember how much he loved cookies. My grandmother always had freshly baked ones in a jar on the counter, and he would come into the kitchen and pull out a handful. (He had unusually large hands and a really efficient metabolism.) Whether you believe in nature, nurture or astrology, you can see that the cookie problem is really not my fault!

As far as I know, Italian Cream Cake is a Texas/Southern confection and nothing like that cake with ricotta cheese and candied fruits that sometimes goes by the same name. I searched all of my cookbooks, and could only find it one other place -- a church cookbook. Emeril Lagasse did a show on Deep South Desserts, and his recipe is nearly identical to the one handed down by my grandmother. It is a moist yellow cake, rich with coconut and pecans and topped with the the sort of cream cheese frosting that also tends to go on carrot cakes. I was a bit worried to serve it to English friends, as many kids "of today" don't seem to like nuts or coconut, but I really shouldn't have wasted my time fretting. In fact, if I were inclined in that way, I could have worried about having some cake left over for tomorrow! But why worry at all? I'm not sure why, but my friends have come up trumps this year and I am going to be celebrating all week long. It's my birth-week, I guess.

Italian Cream Cake

Ingredients:

4 ounces of butter
4 ounces of shortening (Crisco or Trex)
2 cups of sugar
5 eggs, separated
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
8 ounces buttermilk
2 cups moist coconut (do NOT use dessicated coconut)
1 cup chopped pecans

Method:

Prepare three 9 inch cake pans by greasing the sides and bottoms, and then lining the bottoms with wax or parchment paper.

Cream together the butter, shortening and sugar until light and fluffy.
Add the 5 egg yolks, and mix until the ingredients are creamy and well-incorporated.
Sift together the flour and the soda, and then gradually add to the butter mixture – alternating with the buttermilk. You should end with the flour.
Slowly beat in the coconut and pecans.

In a separate bowl, beat the egg whites until they have firm peaks. Fold carefully into the batter.

Divide the mixture between three 9 inch pans. Bake at 350F/175C for 30-35 minutes. I baked my three layers in two different ovens. The top oven only required about 33 minutes, while the bottom oven needed about 38 minutes. The cakes should be golden brown, should spring back to the touch, and will pull slightly away from the sides when they are finished. Cool on wire racks.

Frosting ingredients:

8 ounces of cream cheese
4 ounces of butter
1 teaspoon vanilla
16 ounces/1 pound box of confectioner’s (icing) sugar, sifted

Method:

Cream together the cream cheese, butter and vanilla. When the mixture is light and fluffy, gradually add the sifted confectioner’s sugar. If the frosting is too stiff, you can thin it with a small amount of milk.

Not as good as Grandma used to make,
but everyone did have seconds!

Do you need a good (gingerbread) man?

For Audrey

I've said it before: I am a person who loves to bake cookies.

There is something really satisfying to me about making home-baked treats, and my annual round of Christmas baking is pretty much double the pleasure.

However! Although there are many bakerinas who share this obsession, I realize that there at least an equal number of people who regard baking to be somewhere on the spectrum between torture and a complete waste of time. My good friend Audrey is such a person.

In a recent (and most humorous) post, Audrey vowed -- with only slightly gritted teeth -- that she was going to bake cookies with her children this Christmas. As I read it, I vowed that I would share my family's most excellent gingerbread man cookie recipe with her. It is easy, no-fail, delicious and spectacularly Christmassy. I have made these cookies every year for 30+ years, and frankly, could not contemplate Christmas without them. Yes, I was going to wax and whitter endlessly about gingerbread cookies -- throwing in a variety of related anecdotes -- but the post Not a Bree stopped me in my tracks.

For those of you who aren't au fait with American pop culture references, Bree is the uptight desperate housewife who is devoted to good housekeeping. Bree/Bee . . . it's all too close for comfort. (Come to think of it, my hair does look a bit like Betty Draper's . . .)

Although Audrey has kept mostly silent through a variety of posts devoted to fruitcakes and the like, my recent experiments in wreath-making finally broke her. She felt compelled, by her inner smirk, to pose the question as to whether these rites of domesticity were, post-Betty Friedan, just a little too retro. Are we somehow diminished, as modern women, if we do actually like to arrange flowers and bake cakes?

Ever since a defensive Hillary Clinton uttered those waspish, immortal words: "Well, I guess that I could have stayed home and baked cookies," cookie-baking has had a 50s housewife taint to it. A political career or cookie-baking? Like there's no middle ground.

But why do we feel that we have to choose? Admittedly, it's probably not possible to do it all . . . but can't we be lawyers who bake cookies and engineers who knit and business women who like a bit of decoupage? Well, I'm being a bit disingenuous here. When Julia Roberts knits, it is a cool form of down-to-earth self-expression; but when a stay-at-home mom knits there is tendency to think, "Hey, get a real job!" I've been a stay-at-home mom for more than two years now, and there isn't a week that goes by that I don't revisit that decision. Indeed, attending a flower-arranging class last spring prompted me to have a mini existential crisis.

Remember that über-feminist slogan: A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle?

As feminism has evolved, I think that most women (and men) have become more comfortable with the idea that inclusiveness -- rather than exclusiveness -- is the feminist objective. Buy it, bake it, pay someone else and fake it -- it's all good. Just as most women can be relaxed about the idea of men as life-enhancing, if not absolutely essential -- although, admittedly, I do have some good friends who have "switched teams" in middle age -- so can we, surely, embrace the domestic arts without losing all of our feminist cred.

Goodness knows I am no domestic goddess, but I do like to think of myself as a domestic sensualist. Since we all have to make meals and provide a warm living space anyway, doesn't it make sense to do the best we can with those rites? I am going to twist William Morris's famous words on homemaking: Have nothing in your homes that you do not know to be useful and believe to be beautiful. Certainly we can all feed our children (or ourselves) by buying ready-meals and handing out the forks, but isn't there something much, much nicer and soul-satisfying about a homemade chicken pie with a puff pastry crust served at a beautifully set table?

No one NEEDS a gingerbread man at Christmas . . . I will concede that point. And yet, they taste good and smell good and look cute . . . and children love them, even if their efforts go a bit wonky. Perfection isn't the goal, you know . . . just participation.

Gingerbread Men (or Women)

Ingredients:
½ cup (4 oz) vegetable shortening (Crisco, Trex or similar)
2/3 cup (5 ¾ oz) sugar
2/3 cup (5 ¾ oz) molasses or treacle
1 egg
3 ½ cups (28 oz) flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ginger
1 teaspoon cinnamon
½ teaspoon ground cloves

Method:
Using a freestanding mixer (if you have one), cream together the shortening and sugar until fluffy. Then thoroughly blend in the molasses and egg. (Tip: measure your molasses in a glass measuring cup for liquids, and swirl the egg in it first so that the molasses doesn’t stick.)

Combine the flour, soda, salt and spices in a separate bowl. Sift into the molasses mixture. (You can actually skip the sifting part if you aren’t a domestic goddess.) Mix dough until smooth. (Dough should be stiff. If it is really, really sticky then add a bit more flour.)

Put the dough in Ziploc plastic bags and chill overnight.

Roll out the dough on a lightly floured surface. (It should be about ¼ inch thick.) Cut out with floured cookie cutters of your choice, and then place on greased cookie sheets. (I always use a Silpat silicone baking mat, which eliminates the need for greasing.)

If you have access to red hot candies, it is fun to decorate the cookies with them before baking.

Bake at 350 F/175 C for approximately 10 minutes. Don’t overcook! If the cookies start browning too much or crisping at the edges, they are going to be on the “overdone” side.

I always double the recipe. These freeze beautifully, and will last quite a while unfrozen, too – if you keep them in a tin or sealed bag.

The beauty of this recipe is that the dough can be rolled out numerous times, (and can absorb quite a lot of flour), while still remaining edible. In my humble opinion, this makes gingerbread preferable to a sugar cookie recipe if you are baking with children.

Good luck, Audrey!

Sugar Cookies for a Rainy Day

When I am tired, when it has been raining all day, when it feels more like October than June, I find solace in baking cookies.


Rain. Depression. Happiness. Low blood sugar. A diversion for the children. Birthday parties. Picnics. Holidays. Boredom. These are all good reasons to make cookies.

Yesterday, as I was tutoring, the small boy in my care piped up: "You ALWAYS have cookies at your house." It was clear, from the expression on his face, not to mention the crumbs on it, that he thoroughly approved of this consistency. I'm not ashamed to admit that I know the "bribing" (shall we just say encouraging) power of a warm, homemade cookie.

A cookie is intrinsically cheerful; and the good vibes are at least doubled if it is a homemade cookie. (But that is just my bias, and I don't actually have any scientific data to prove it.)


A crazy cookie maker like myself will even manufacture events -- in order to justify making LOTS of cookies. This Friday, I am hosting an all-day "tea" (for want of a better word) to raise funds for the "Walk the Walk" charity. This event has provided me with the perfect excuse to bake lots of cookies . . . not that I needed one! Next month, I will make hundreds of roll-out sugar cookies for the 4G booth for the Summer Fete. (A cookie decorating booth: My idea, of course.) In the last two days I've made sugar cookies, snickerdoodles, chocolate chip cookies and cashew cookies. The latter are only for my family, as Walking Partner thinks that I should pay homage to the ubiquitous nut allergy that plagues us. Therefore, I need at least one more kind of cookie! Hmmmm . . . what could be more delicious than thinking about what kind of cookie to bake next?


I realize that there are people who don't bake/can't bake/won't bake . . . but I "comprehend" this imperviousness to the charms of baking without actually understanding it. Just like I know that there are people who don't like dessert . . . or people who don't comfort eat . . . and I don't really get that, either. I can admire these people for their abstinence; I can respect them; but in my secret, innermost self I tend to think that they are either (1) LYING, (2) strange, or (3) sad people who are missing out on one of life's best and most consistent pleasures.


For me, cookies are the most perfect baked good because they are (generally) really easy and (usually) provide instant gratification. Some people don't even wait to cook them before sampling their charms. (I'm not naming names, but let's just say I regularly stare the threat of salmonella in the face -- and so do my children.) In fact, cookie dough is to sushi as cookies are to baked fish: for those who love it, better "raw." I have been know to make chocolate chip cookie dough just to mix it into vanilla ice cream. I'm not alone in this strange behavior, either: I once knew a woman who claimed that the "secret ingredient" in her chocolate chip cookies was her own spit! (I know, you might be saying "eeww" or "ick," but I thought that it was pretty funny!)


(There are exceptions to the instant gratification angle: gingerbread cookie dough, for one example, needs to be chilled overnight. This can be either a positive or a negative -- depending on one's organizational skills.)


Unlike baked goods that require yeast (bread) or whipped egg whites (meringue) or kneading (bread) or gentle handling and cold butter (pastry) or precise cooking temperatures (cake), cookies are really forgiving. In fact, I believe that if you have good equipment -- meaning a decent mixer, proper baking sheets, and silicone mats -- you can hardly go wrong with cookies. You just have to figure out if you are a "chewy" cookie person or a "crisp" one, and judge your cooking time accordingly. Some people like a brown cookie; others prefer a paler, underdone version. It is also helpful to have someone around who likes the opposite of what you like -- because even with a good timer, cookies aren't always perfectly predictable. They are, however, almost always edible.

Recently, a dear friend asked me to contribute to a cookbook that she is putting together for her daughter's 21st birthday. After wracking my brains over the PERFECT recipe, I realized that I should just go with something that my family has made over and over again . . . something that is easy, always delicious, and part of the history of our family life. It is just a very simple sugar cookie -- cheap to make, and containing "standard" ingredients. (Okay, "standard" if you bake maybe . . . but still, certainly nothing fancy!) When I got married, my mother put a cookbook together for me -- and of course this recipe was in it. We can't have Christmas without these cookies -- and I make them even more than my mother did. Anyone who has ever attended one of my children's birthday parties has probably eaten these cookies. In fact, when I moved back to England I had a Christmas lunch for some old friends, and one of them said, "I remember these cookies!"

Sugar Cookies

Cream together:
4 oz butter
4 oz Crisco (or similar veg shortening; this is necessary!)
1 cup sugar

When creamy and fluffy add:
1 large egg

Sift together (or just add if you’re feeling lazy or time-pressed)
2 ½ cups flour
½ tsp baking soda
¾ tsp salt

And then mix with butter mixture.

Finally, add:
1 tsp vanilla
2 Tbsp milk

Drop by spoonfuls (about walnut size) onto greased cookie sheet. (Silpat nonstick mats are very helpful, if you have them.)
Flatten (gently) the cookies with a glass dipped in sugar. (Dip the glass into the cookie mix first, to make it sticky enough for the sugar to cling.) Then decorate the cookies with sprinkles of your choice – OR, a whole pecan (my favorite).

Bake at 400 f./200 c. for 8 – 10 minutes. They should be barely brown at the edges, but I also like them slightly underdone.

My family almost always doubles this recipe – as they freeze beautifully, and also keep nicely in a tin for at least a week or two. (They are actually delicious straight out of the freezer!)

They are perfect with a cup of tea, coffee, or milk! They are sweet, but slightly salty; not too plain, but not too rich. For me, they are "just right" . . . especially if there is just too much rain, and some small comfort is needed.