Not Your Grandma’s Carrot Cake

Now that we are juicing on a daily basis, sometimes twice daily, we have  serious amounts of fruit and veg in this house at all times…which I love.  Plus, it gives us more reason to frequently shop at our farmer’s markets for local and organic produce which we also love.  I had not baked in a while, and while staring up at my cookbooks last Tuesday, I decided to make something involved…something that would keep me in my kitchen all morning.  I decided on a cake.  Lots of carrots? Make carrot cake, right? I have a particular fondness for carrot cake because it always reminds me of my Grandma Harriet’s kitchen which has always remained in my memories as the quintessential country kitchen.  The first memories that warmly come to heart are pints of fresh blueberries on the kitchen table, Norman Rockwell plates safely secured to the wall, white and blue hand towels always being rinsed and rinsed again with hot steamy water from the basin of the sink, and always, always the lingering scent of brewing coffee that captured the room and forever made me intoxicated by the smell of a freshly brewed cup.  And then there was her cake stand.  I loved her glass cake stand because it always appeared to be the shelter to something delectable and rich.  It was not until I was older that the cake stand stood out as the clearest image from her kitchen.  In a way, it became a symbol for it represented everything I loved and felt in that space.  And often times a properly placed carrot cake was typically found underneath the stand’s glass dome top.   Now, let’s not get it twisted.  Do I think my Grandma made this carrot cake by hand? Doubtful. I also remember perfectly frosted carrots that lined the top of the 3 tier cake which as an adult I figure the baker down the road added to his or her cakes.  However, it does not take away from the wide-eyed stares and the delectable bites that now fill my heart and remind me of a time when life was just life and carrot cake in grandma’s kitchen made it a bit sweeter.  Today, Matt and I try to savor all of our moments together.  Sometimes that is over cake, often times it happens in a smile, and most recently it has been reflected here.  I can only hope that when I make carrot cake for our children and our grandchildren, life will be just as sweet for them as it has been for us.

Bean.

Spiced vanilla cream cheese frosting goop. The best goop there is.

Cake mix.

Local and organic.

If you could have smelled the house after this came out of the oven…

The bible.

Perfection.

2 thoughts on “Not Your Grandma’s Carrot Cake

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