Carrot Cake Is Better Cold

come for the carrot cake, stay for the existential crisis

Hello and welcome to Home Movies Tuesday! If you’ve found your way over by some miracle but are not yet subscribed, here, let me help you with that:

In this house, we believe carrot cake is best without nuts or raisins.

 There are two different versions of this newsletter today. Some of you only want the first version. Some will also appreciate the second. The first version starts off by saying how much I love carrot cake, but more specifically this carrot cake which is best (according to me) served cold (Cold Carrot Cake). It’s dense with carrots, lightly spiced, with an almost fudgy, sticky toffee pudding-ish texture thanks to the dates that swirl through it. I excitedly tell you that much like my other favorite desserts, you don’t need a mixer or any special equipment. You will need a box grater for the carrots, but you’ve made the baked shells so I know you already have one; and you will also need a cake pan, but you’ve already made this cake, so I know you already have one of those, too. This newsletter is lighthearted and upbeat and I write almost like I did when I worked for a food magazine or had a newspaper column. I say things like, “You can eat this for breakfast if you want! Not because I think it’s ‘healthy,’ (I don’t know what that word means, really) it is still very much cake—but because you can do whatever you want.” It’s “personal” because it reveals my preferences (this cake, without raisins, without nuts or pineapple, served cold) with maybe a “specific tone” which lets you know you’re reading an Alison Roman newsletter and not something in another magazine or newspaper column, but nothing truly personal is revealed. I explain that I give you options to use one of or many spices because I tried the cake with all versions and thought all were nice, please use this time to express yourself and your preferences! I use a lot of exclamation marks and say at least one self-deprecating thing! The whole time I’m writing this version today, I’m faking it a little.

The second version of this newsletter has very little to do with carrot cake, though I will give you the recipe and show you the video. At the end, probably. In this version, I’m radically honest and tell you how tired I am of talking about myself and the things I do. I tell you I love this carrot cake with all my heart (I really fucking do), genuinely find it to be a gorgeous cake, a perfect treat and really want you to make it because I think you’ll feel the same. 

But really, I am tired. Not so much from travel or touring (though I do not want to see an airport for a while), more tired of…myself? Specifically, tired of parading myself and the things I do and make up and down the internet. Please make this recipe. Listen to this podcast. Read this newsletter. Buy this book. Come to this event.  Look at my fluffy cat. This is my hot husband. I went here for dinner. This is who I’m friends with. Here’s what I love. I do interesting things with interesting people. I am always in a good mood. I do not have a bad day. I wash my hair often but not too often. I always feel like talking about myself and never mind sharing all the details of my life. Make this Cold Carrot Cake, you’ll love it. Look at my fluffy cat again. Look here, look here, look here.

This is the carrot cake I’m asking you to make

In this second version, I tell you that this week there is no usual newsletter, no charming prelude, no whimsical convincing or lighthearted anecdotes or cheerful words of wisdom about “overmixing” (but really, you can’t overmix this cake lol). This version of the newsletter does not sell you on anything or promise to improve your life in any way, it simply just….gives you the recipe. I say, “Hopefully by now, you know if I like something enough to turn it into a video, I really think you’re going to love it, so just trust me,” and I leave it at that and I never speak of it again. I don’t post about it on Instagram three times today to get you to read it, I don’t obsess over the video views or how many it gets because I know that I can only afford to make these videos if enough people watch them because that’s advertising, baby. I say take it or leave it, I love it and I hope you do, too. I make things for the love of the game (cooking, writing). I also do not pay attention to or play the game (attention economy). 

I love making things and I hope I get to make things forever. I want to write delicious recipes that work and make cooking videos that really teach people how to cook. I want to write funny, resourceful books and newsletters and create gorgeous photos. I want to order local produce for my little store and make tuna salad with lots of celery to sell in containers. I also want to do all those things without having to talk about them all the time. I want to do all those things without worrying if I don’t talk about them all the time, I won’t have the luxury of doing all those things. 

If it isn’t clear by now, I am terrified of internet culture and the control it has over people who’ve chosen a creative path in this life. I am genuinely concerned I do not have the stamina (or desire) to talk about myself or my work non-stop. If I stopped, would I still get to make things? We’ll probably never find out because too much of my self-worth depends on external validation, and if a tree falls, etc. But I’m working on that, slowly realizing that finally, maybe, I don’t have to do so much to feel good about what I’m already doing. There’s an “I couldn’t help but wonder” in here somewhere, but sorry, I’m too exhausted! 

While people love to say everyone is “a brand” these days, I would just like to remind everyone that no, they aren’t. They’re humans, people, individuals, and we shouldn’t feel so much pressure to behave as if that’s not true. I love my little inconsistently published newsletter with the occasional grammatical error or broken link written by me, a person and not “a brand.” I’m a human, not a company. And thank god, what a blessing for that! So, thank you for being here, for subscribing. For letting this be a newsletter and not expecting it to be another magazine or newspaper column— warts, overshare, typos and all.

Without further ado, you may now feast your eyes on this Cold Carrot Cake. The only thing you really need to know that while can eat it at any temperature, it is really is meant to be eaten cold because I genuinely think it’s best that way. But truly, as always, do whatever you like. 

xx

Thank you to BetterHelp for sponsoring this week’s episode of Home Movies. Let BetterHelp connect you to a therapist who can support you—all from the comfort of your own home. Visit https://betterhelp.com/alison, or choose Alison Roman during sign up, and enjoy a special discount on your first month.

For the full recipe, read on.

Director: Doron Max Hagay / Producer: Graham Mason / Photography Director: Eric Schleicher / Audio: Yves Albaret

Camera Operator: Alex Bliss / Camera Operator: Will Colacito / Editor: Maya Tippett / Graphics: Gordon Landenberger 

photo by Chris Bernabeo for Sweet Enough

Cold Carrot Cake With Cream Cheese Frosting

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Cold Carrot Cake

serves 6—8

This carrot cake, sans raisins and nuts (!!) is, to me, perfect. If you can believe it, it doesn’t really need frosting, although I do understand the sentimental attachment. It also doesn’t really need to be served cold (it’s perfect at room temperature, too), but refrigerating it does give it a dense, custardy, almost fudge-like texture that screams “mid-day snack.”

For the cake:

Cooking spray

1 1⁄4 cups/180g all-purpose flour

1 1⁄2 teaspoons/3g ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon/6g baking soda

1 teaspoon/4g kosher salt

1 teaspoon/4g baking powder

1⁄2 teaspoon/1g ground turmeric, cardamom, or ginger (optional)

3 large eggs

3⁄4 cup/155g light brown sugar

2⁄3 cup/145g sour cream or Greek yogurt

1 pound/455g carrots, peeled (or not!) and grated

10–12 Medjool dates (8 ounces/ 225g), pitted and chopped

4 tablespoons/2 ounces/56g unsalted butter, melted

1⁄4 cup/50g vegetable or olive oil

For the frosting:

8 ounces/225g cream cheese, softened

1⁄2 cup/60g powdered sugar Kosher salt

2 tablespoons toasted nuts, chopped (optional, but I love pistachios)

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line a 9-inch cake pan with a round of parchment paper and spray with cooking spray.

2. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, cinnamon, baking soda, salt, baking powder, and turmeric (if using).

3. In another large bowl, whisk the eggs, brown sugar, and sour cream together until well blended. Add the carrots and dates and, using a spatula or wooden spoon, mix until all the bits are evenly dispersed. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and use a spatula to mix until just combined. Add the melted butter along with the oil and stop mixing as soon as you’ve got a nice, even batter.

4. Pour the batter into the prepared cake pan and bake until the top is puffed and golden and the sides pull away from the pan, 40–45 minutes.

5. This cake can be eaten now, or, for what I think is the optimal carrot cake experience, refrigerate it until completely chilled before slicing.

6. To make the frosting, combine softened cream cheese, powdered sugar, and a good pinch of kosher salt together in a medium bowl. Use a fork to combine everything (this is why the cream cheese needs to be at room temperature) until smooth, like softened butter. Spread onto the cake and sprinkle with chopped, toasted nuts if you like.

Do Ahead: Carrot cake can be baked 2 days ahead, tightly wrapped in plastic, and refrigerated. Frosted, it can be loosely covered and refrigerated for up to 2 days.

• You’re going to need a box grater for this carrot cake. This is a good one.

• I notoriously don’t replace my baking pans, but if you’re looking for a new one, this 9-inch round baking pan will get the job done.

• I am begging you to Weigh Your Ingredients when it comes to baking. Here’s a kitchen scale that you’ll use forever (we always used this one in professional kitchens, too).

• This is the very good denim shirt I’m wearing in this episode. These are the pants.

• I use Burlap & Barrel Royal Cinnamon in this cake—it’s fragrant and sweet and will last a while, unless you drop the jar onto a hard floor, and then it will shatter and you’ll have a cinnamon-scented kitchen for several months (based on true events).