Carrot cake

A friend of mine always knew he was in trouble if his wife started baking. For him, the oven's waft of butter cream cooking into fluffy sponge solids had come to be associated with a slight sense of dread. Egg whites being ferociously whipped into stiff peaks didn't conjure up fond memories of childhood, a pit of lava chocolate bubbling within a soufflé, surrounded by the soft hub of the ovens' glow didn't amount to a happy grumbling in the stomach. Instead, he thought shit, what have I done? Pissed off would pretty much equal a serious baking session from the Mrs.
The more annoyed his wife was the more she baked; always in silence and always with great concentration. No screaming and shouting, just quiet resentment. The cooking-punishment wasn't just any kind of food either, it was always cakes; big old, well-crafted, sweet fluffy cream cakes. So, if he arrived home to eight huge, well iced masterpieces on the counter, he knew he was really in the dog-house.

I’m not sure whether a carrot cake was in this repertoire and what level of pissed off-ness this would symbolize, but every time I’m hanging around impatiently for a cake to arrive from the oven I always think of my cake-dreading friend waiting in fear of what’s to come.

You can take a carrot cake to the dizzy heights of marzipan imitation carrots, or sauteed carrots with icing sugar for decorating the top but for now I’ve left that to the heavy-weights of the baking world. You could also do the usual carrot cake style of baking the mix in two smaller sandwich tins and putting a layer of the butter cream inside the cake as well as on top, but, like a club sandwich, I never got the need for this pointless excess. More layers don't mean 'better'. It tastes gorgeous just smothered on top, why interrupt the flow as your teeth sink into this soft delicate sponge?

This is my take on the carrot cake that’s more about the flavour than visuals. The cream topping has the sweet sharp cut of lemon through cream cheese and it gently covers the light fluffy sponge that’s checkered with the crunch of pecans and walnuts. Delicious. And you'll feel sufficiently cleansed after you’ve finished the baking session so give it a go.

Ingredients:
90g walnuts or pecans (I use half and half)
250ml rapeseed oil
220g caster sugar
4 eggs
1 tsp vanilla essence
1 tsp ground Cinnamon
zest and juice of 2 lemons
120g self-raising flour
1 tsp baking soda
pinch sea salt
250g carrots
250g cream cheese
2 tbsp crème fraiche
2 tbsp icing sugar

You are also going to need either a set of large muffin cases or a spring-form cake tin.

Pre-heat the oven to 170 degrees C / 338 degrees F / Gas Mark 3.

Finely chop the nuts and place over a low heat to toast. After 5 minutes remove and set aside.

Beat the oil and sugar in a large mixing bowl.

Crack in the eggs and beat some more. Add the vanilla essence, Cinnamon, and juice and zest of one lemon.

Sift in the flour, baking soda and salt. Peel and grate the carrot and stir them into the mix. Stir in 2 thirds of the toasted nuts.

Once this is all sufficiently blended together pour out the mix into either: a selection of about 20 large muffin cases or into 1 large (approximately 18cm) spring-form cake tin.

Bake in the oven for about 30 minutes, but check after about 25. You want the top to be just golden and the middle to be just dry, maybe with a hint of moisture, stick a metal skewer down the centre to check this out.

Whilst these are baking make the topping.

Beat the cream cheese, crème fraiche, lemon juice and zest, icing sugar, and remaining nuts together in a bowl. Chill in the fridge until the cake is ready.

Remove the cooked carrot cake from the tin to cool once cooked or else place the muffins on a chilling rack in their cases.

After about 15 minutes lather the cream topping over each muffin or over the whole cake. These taste best if left a little to chill with the topping in the fridge for a while.