Mezzos, medals, and carrot cake

Ok, that's a very strange title, isn't it? But I bet the carrot cake caught your eye, didn't it? Well, we'll get there...

Why mezzos? Well, in recent days, I have been thinking about a lot of things, and one of them is a feeling that I guess I will have to deal with all of my life, as I have already. I am surrounded by extremely talented, extremely handsome friends. In my view, these guys are the "stars" in my life. They are fun to be around, fun to watch, and to be honest, sometimes it is downright depressing to feel like the "ugly duckling" or the "solid one." I described myself not that long ago to someone as the member of a gymnastics team who always goes up on the apparatus first: that's the person who you KNOW is going to get a good, solid score. They're not going to crack, they're going to be, well, "solid" and make sure that everyone else has a solid backing to work from. No one expects them to win a medal, and if they DO win a medal, maybe it's a bronze for third place. These folks don't take the star role, but you know they're there, and you couldn't function without them.

One music comedian once said that mezzos were invented because "sopranos need maids." When you think about the great mezzo roles in opera, indeed many of these are as servants: think of Suzuki, or Brangane, Princess Eboli, and so forth. But the opera is not "Madame Suzuki," and it's not "Tristan und Brangane" or "Principessa Eboli."

YET. Think of the GREAT mezzos, and there are a LOT of them: Christa Ludwig, Tatyana Troyanos, Marilyn Horne, and more recently, someone like Susan Graham. And the OQs out there will name more, without any problem. You know them, you know them as THEMSELVES and not as the support to the sopranos they sang with. You KNOW their work.

And, sometimes, the dependable, solid guy who goes first on the team gets the gold medal. It happens.

I have four medals for cooking: all first places. I won them for carrot soup, eggplant parmagiana, flourless chocolate cake, and carrot cake. Honestly, I expected to win the medals for the soup and the chocolate cake. The eggplant and carrot cake medals were stunning surprises for me. I could argue the point both ways: they ARE good recipes and they deserved to win, or the field was weak, and the recipe was the best of a bad lot. Whatever the point, I won.

These days, I never make that soup. It calls for a quart of heavy cream. A recipe that was fine in my early 20s, is not right for me these days. I make eggplant parmagiana, but not the old recipe. I found one I like better. I make the chocolate cake from time to time, but to be honest, in its day I made it so many times that I'm tired of it: REALLY tired of it.

But the carrot cake ? Oh, I could make this every week and not get tired of it. Nor would any of my friends. This cake is REVERED. If we have a big party and it's not served, people want to know why. It feels like it's been with me forever, but really, only since law school. I guess that's forever for some people: I graduated from law school before some of my friends were born.

Carrot cakes, zucchini cakes, pumpkin bread, all of these recipes that involve a vegetable, are the product of World War II and rationing. If you look at these recipes, they almost all use an oil base, and no butter. That's because all of the fruit was being canned and sent to solidiers as part of their K rations, and butter was being sent overseas as well. With fruit and butter rationed, and the American sweet tooth being what it is, resourceful cooks went into the kitchen and developed recipes that didn't need them. So, gentle reader, if you find a cake recipe that uses oil instead of butter, you can be pretty sure it's a product of the wartime kitchen. If you also have a vegetable base, that's just about certain.

So, here it is: the "famous" carrot cake, with its accompanying frosting, which DOES use butter. I will confess that when Guy makes this, he lightens it, and likes it better. I like it with the full richness of ALL of the oil. I think you COULD cut the oil back by half a cup, and still have a successful cake.

Let's start with the cake. You will need 1.5 cups of vegetable oil, and four large eggs. Combine these, and beat them. Beat them longer than you think you'll need to. You're looking for something that is like a very thin, liquidy mayonnaise - mayonnaise is, ultimately, oil and egg yolks. Then add half cups of sugar to this, until you have combined 2 cups. You are going to get a very wet, thick mixture, that may very well remind you of wet beach sand. Then add a tablespoon of vanilla. Put this aside.

Separately, combine 2 cups of unbleached flour, a tablespoon of cinnamon (and buy new cinnamon for this. Chances are yours is old and not as potent as it could be), 2 teaspoons of baking soda, and a teaspoon of salt. Put this aside for now, because you're going to grate carrots.

The recipe calls for three cups of grated carrots. In my experience, that's just a little less than a pound of the roots. You scrape them clean, and then either shred them in your food processor, or on the teardrop shaped blade on one of those three sided graters. If you don't want to measure and just want to shred the pound, more power to you. It's what I do (Guy measures).

Optionally, you can use 1.5 cups of "goodies," like nuts or raisins. I think they take away from the cake, and I LOVE nuts in cake. So put them in if you like, but I suggest leaving them out.

Now, stir the flour mixture into the oil mixture (you probably want to move the latter into a bigger bowl), and then stir in the carrots. You have enough here for a BIG 9x13 inch cake, which is almost always how I make it. You could make two thick, or three thin layers as well. Use 8 or 9 inch baking pans. In either case, bake at 350.

It's hard to tell you how long this cake needs, because I SWEAR every time I've made it, it's taken a different length of time. I would start checking after 40 minutes, regardless of the pan you use, and test the center with a cake tester. You know what to do: stick the straw into the center, see if it's sticky and wet, and if it is, let it bake longer. Usually, it takes between 50 and 60 minutes to finish.

If you do it in a 9x13 inch pan, and the middle sinks a little, don't worry. That's fairly common.

While the cake is baking, make the cream cheese frosting. It's easy, disgustingly bad for you, and delicious.

You need a stick of softened, unsalted butter, as well as half a pound of cream cheese. Here, the lower fat version will work, and actually mixes better than the full fat. Whip these together until you get a light, airy mix. Stir in some vanilla if you like that flavor. Anywhere from a teaspoon to a tablespoon. Finally, have a pound of confectioners' sugar ready. You're going to use it ALL, and there's a LOT of it here - almost four cups. Stir this in a cup at a time. IF you're using a strong mixer, lower it to your slowest speed, because otherwise, you'll be breathing the fines of the confectioners sugar for about five minutes.

This frosting will get very stiff if you refrigerate it. So you may want to keep it at room temperature until your cake is fully cool, and then spread it over the top. Then refrigerate it. If you're cramped for space, as I often am, you don't have to refrigerate the cake. You DO refrigerate the frosting, and if you frost the cake later , make sure to take the frosting out at least an hour ahead of time so that it's soft enough to spread over the cake.

So, there you have it. My gold medal carrot cake recipe. I'm not a mezzo, but I'm solid. And this time, for better or worse, I got the medal. Make it, and maybe you'll get one too. What I can guarantee is you'll get wave after wave of applause for what is a truly wonderful cake.