{Sensationally Spiced}
tawny, russet, and copper hued powders blend in a most ambrosial symphony of spice. shreds of rustic carrots join the mix, as does silken cream cheese, in an ensemble of texture and taste rivaled by few. miniature molds form personal bundts that are sure to win over even the most selective eaters.
Undeniably, my most cherished season happens to be the Fall. There's just something innately comforting about warming tones of color, a crisp quality in the air, and a cloud of thick spices wafting through my home during harvest.
While it's not entirely Fall, I'm dreaming of it today! At what seems to be the peak of a sweltering Summer, I'd kill for a cool taste of Autumn (complete with some cozy apple cider, no doubt). I can just see it now: golden rays of sunlight streaming through the kitchen window as I pull out my fall linens, dressing the table in notes of rust and pumpkin while I watch brittle leaves fall outside. What a sight?!
For now, I'll have to settle for a vision of the season, but that doesn't mean I can't conjure some Fall feelings in dessert form. Enter the carrot cake! A frequent Easter recipe of mine, I find a way to incorporate everything I love about Fall baking into this confection, passing it off with seasonally-appropriate twists.
Using a miniature bundt cake pan was only intuitive and I set to work in the cabin kitchen- the most woodsy and inviting cook space, I'd say. With timber frame construction, luxuriant overhead beams, and an abundance of natural light, this place inspires both awe and peace- the perfect combination to produce innovation and creativity.
If you couldn't guess, the first order of business in making a carrot cake is shredding the star ingredient. I've seen many recommendations for how to make this process painless- using a blender, food processor, or other electric tool- however, I am a purist and do this by hand. Tiresome? Yes. Rewarding? Also yes. What you end up with are miniscule ribbons of whispy carrot, perfect to create a dense and moist yet lightly-textured crumb. You also end up with a sense of accomplishment and ownership in the well executed strands.
Once you've got the carrot prepared (it does take some time), you can move on to the olfactory sensation that is measuring out all of the spices. Cinnamon, clove, ginger, nutmeg, allspice- the gang's all here!
When all of the mise is en place, you can whip out the mixer and begin. One of the drawbacks of the cabin kitchen is the fact that my trusty, cherry lacquered stand mixer doesn't live there. Luckily, a hand mixer will do. Additionally, the mural-sized picture window overlooking the river does more than offset any feelings of loss at not being able to use my beloved KitchenAid.
The traditional dance of wet and dry ingredients ensues, with dry sifted together into one bowl and liquid combining in another. Cream the butter and sugar, add eggs, splash vanilla, pour milk, and the two bowls can be merged. If you're not adding extra vanilla, we need to talk. It's something I always do, and most never regret! The array of fragrant spices brings the chorus to a whole new stratosphere, infusing color and dancing with warmth.
This variety of cake, in my humble opinion, just begs to be a textural experience as well as a tasty one. The carrot shreds assist in achieving this goal, but the pursuit of texture is truly bolstered by the presence of walnuts. Easy to omit if you have an allergy (or simply don't have the taste for them), but this is one of those effortless additions that commends applause. Just run your knife across a handful for a rough chop, and you've added a tastefully crunchy element. Fold the carrots and walnut pieces into the batter, and the oven is in sight.
Often, I am amazed at the dual simplicity and intricacy of cake baking. Simple, because with minor adjustments a vanilla cake can transform to be chocolate or lemon or spiced. Intricate, because one must know the chemistry of the process in order to adapt a bundt recipe for rounds or a sheet recipe for cupcakes- not to mention knowing the ins and outs of making special substitutions.
Over the years I've found that all recipes are but a guide. If you want to add a glaze, filling, or garnish- just do it, and don't hold back. Recipes show you how to construct the foundation, merely a canvas for your own kind of masterpiece. You can rest assured that the proportions are informed, but also gather confidence in your ability to customize each dessert to fit the occasion and crowd.
This recipe, originally slated for a larger bundt mold, I was certain I could alter and tweak into a miniature-friendly version. I resolved to reduce both cooking time and temperature, seeking to still achieve a set center without over-browning the edges (every baker's quandary, I know).
Buttering and flouring meticulously, I divided the batter evenly among the adorable wells, and allowed it to seep into every curve and crevice. Sliding it onto a heated rack, I was in full anticipation of the glorious fragrance that abounds when baking anything with spice.
I feel like the individual who created frosting did so in an attempt to both sweeten (literally and figuratively) the dessert experience and to stave off obsessive monitoring of a cake while it undergoes the tedious firming process that is baking. As someone who is ridiculously driven by progress and results, the thought of waiting for my creation to emerge in finality from the oven is ludicrous. Crafting an icing of sorts or engaging in some other kind of distracting activity (like washing dishes or cleaning) is a must for me.
They say "a watched pot never boils," and I could transpose that to be "a watched cake is never done." No matter my impatience, I do enjoy the ordered journey that goes along with baking- and the fact that it gives me an excuse to unplug from my day and escape from reality.
To take my mind off of what was transpiring in the oven, I made a glaze for the cakes. My brain perpetually associates cream cheese frosting with carrot cake, the tangy and smooth flavor mitigating the sharpness of the spice while the silky texture mellows the crunch and body of the cake.
Pulling out the hand mixer once more, I blended the softened cream cheese and butter with mounds of confectioner's sugar, hot water, and again a generous helping of vanilla. In keeping with the autumnal theme, I dusted the frosting with just a hint of cinnamon. Unique all its own, I like to think of this topping as the marriage of a true frosting and a glaze- syrupy enough to slide down into the ridges of the bundts and form glorious trails dripping from the sides, yet firm enough to solidify and prevent a soupy mess.
Cakes out of the oven and cooled (this is crucial for the frosting to set up correctly), it's time to spoon the topping liberally over each one. I love the versatility of this practice, and the options this recipe provides. Not wanting to overpower the cakes, you could prepare and soak them in a simple syrup, opting for a naked look on top. You could add the cream cheese concoction and nothing else. You could sprinkle yet more cinnamon over top. You could add extra walnuts as adornments- the possibilities are endless. Especially exciting in a group setting, you could set all of the garnishes out and allow each individual to prepare their own cake- a great way to give them ownership over their dessert and have a bit of fun in the process.
Just because Summer warmth still clouds the air doesn't mean you can't invoke Fall sentiment, and give yourself and guests a reprise from the heat. Speaking as a Texan who is tired of sweating, I think we are all looking for an escape. So escape to your kitchen, use flavors you're craving, and provide a space to be creative. Set things around you that set a tone of joy, and you never know what dishes they'll inspire.
RECIPE:
Cake
2 eggs
2/3 cup oil (canola or vegetable)
2 tsp vanilla extract (or 1 tbsp if you're like me)
2 cups granulated sugar
2 cups flour
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
½ tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
½ tsp nutmeg
¼ tsp ginger
1 cup whole milk (I used 1%, use what you have)
4 grated carrots (roughly 2 cups)
1 cup chopped walnuts (roughly a big handful)
Frosting
2 oz cream cheese (softened)
2 tbsp butter (softened)
1/2 cup powdered sugar (more if it's too runny)
1/2 tsp vanilla extract (or 1 tbsp if you're like me)
2 tbsp hot water (or you could use milk)
*recipe adapted from Created By Diane