FOOD ON THE FOOD

Carrot Cake for President

Wow.  Three whole days without posting.  That must be some kind of a new record for me.  If you must know, I’ve been very busy honoring our presidents, past and current.  But especially current.  God, I don’t think we’ll ever be able to top him.  Is there any way to keep him in there for a third term?  Any way at all?

Apparently, I’ve chosen to honor our presidents by eating all of the carrot cake I made for Husband for Valentine’s Day.  Presidents like cake, right?  And this exercise of honoring our presidents made me remember just how good this carrot cake is, which is why I’m back with the recipe. 

The single most important thing about this cake from Husband’s perspective is that it’s totally raisin-free.  Not a single raisin in sight, though there are pecans aplenty, which ought to make Jimmy Carter happy (what did he grow again?).  Lucky for FDR, there should be no Pearl Harbor flashbacks since there’s no pineapple or coconut or anything weird like that in here, either.  Just carrots.  Carrots in a cake aren’t weird.  Right, Bill Clinton?  And, of course, it has cream cheese frosting, which is the other obvious requirement.  And if anyone liked cheese, it was Calvin Coolidge.

I always make a habit of doubling frosting recipes.  Even my own, which I had already doubled the last time I made it and probably the time before that.  I hate the idea of running out.  This policy just guarantees that the cake gets better and better every year, just like our presidents.

Husband's Favorite Carrot Cake

1½ cups canola oil
2½ cups sugar
4 eggs, separated
5 Tbsp. hot water
2½ cups flour
1½ tsp. baking powder
½ tsp. baking soda
¼ tsp. salt
1 tsp. nutmeg
1 tsp. cinnamon
½ tsp. cloves
1½ cups grated carrots (about 3)
1 cup chopped pecans

Frosting
½ lb. butter, softened (2 sticks)
1 lb. cream cheese (2 bricks)
1½ lb. confectioner’s sugar

Preheat oven to 350°F.  Grease two 9-inch circular cake pans.  Line bottoms with parchment paper and grease that, too.  Dust with flour by shaking it around the pan until it completely coats the bottom and sides.  Shake excess into the other pan and repeat, emptying the extra flour into the trash.  Set aside.

In a large bowl, mix oil and sugar until well blended.  Beat in the 4 eggs yolks.  Add the hot water and mix well, scraping down the sides.  In a large bowl, sift flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and spices.  Beat into sugar mixture until just combined.  Stir in carrots and nuts.  Batter will be very thick.

In a medium bowl, beat the egg whites with an electric mixer until stiff peaks form.  Stir about a quarter of the egg whites directly into the batter to lighten it up.  Then, gently fold the rest of the egg whites into the batter.  Pour into cake pans to the same height and bake 50-60 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out pretty cleanly (a few moist crumbs are okay).  Let cool.

To make frosting, whip together butter and cream cheese with an electric mixer.  Add confectioner’s sugar and mix until lumps are no longer of a worrisome size.  This varies from person to person.

To assemble, remove cakes from pans and arrange one cake on a plate.  Spread top with frosting and stack second cake on top.  Frost the sides, then the top.  If you’re getting crumbs in the frosting and it’s pissing you off, do a thin coat of frosting and then refrigerate.  That will lock in the crumbs so that you can use the remaining frosting to give it a final, crumb-free coat.  Decorate attractively.  Or stupidly.  It’s a free country.

Cookbook Friday: Tortiere

                   

This is my grandmother, Dora [Barbaresi] Donroe, at my wedding in 2000.  She hates this picture because she thinks it makes her look old.  But, I love it because this is mostly how I’ve always known her.  She forgets that I wasn’t around when she was young, stick thin, and flawlessly beautiful.  As much as I love the old pictures, I barely recognize her. 

I knew her in the later stages, still fiercely independent with a wicked sense of humor, but capable of more love than I thought humanly possible.  She has a favorite skin cream, which she uses liberally, that kept those wrinkles at bay for as long as nature would allow.  But, I wouldn’t trade in a single one of those wrinkles because there’s a story behind each one.  (Although, now that I’m getting of an age, maybe I should find out what brand it is.)  (So, then, I guess it is actually possible to miss your own point.)

Growing up, Nonni got me hooked on crossword puzzles, Alfred Hitchcock, and seven-layer cookies.  We’d spend hours wordlessly working on nine-million-piece jigsaw puzzles.  She had a weakness for scratch tickets.  I had a weakness for chocolate.  We worked out an arrangement.  If you were sleeping over and she heard you cough, she’d crank the heat up to 85° until you woke up thinking you were dying in the Sahara.  Then, when you finally cooled off and fell back asleep, she’d be up banging pots and pans at 5 a.m.

If you piss her off, you hear about it.  If you make her happy, you hear about that, too.  She isn’t perfect.  And you wouldn’t want her to be.  This is starting to sound like a eulogy.  Fear not, she’s alive and well.  But, why wait for a funeral? 

Here, have some chicken.

Tortiere

Unrelated, as far as I know, to the French-Canadian meat pie by the same name, this Italian peasant dish is equally hearty.  Serve with plenty of Italian bread to mop up the juices.

¼ cup olive oil
1 onion, sliced thinly
1 medium package boneless chicken breasts, cut into thirds
2-3 potatoes, cut into medium cubes
3 cups Nonni’s homemade tomato sauce
1 15-oz. can peas (you can substitute frozen peas, but they won’t taste murky enough)
Salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 300°F.  Pour oil onto the bottom of a 9x11-inch baking dish.  Add onions, then arrange chicken breasts on top and potatoes around them.  Sprinkle salt and pepper, and add just enough tomato sauce to cover the chicken.  Bake uncovered until chicken is cooked through and potatoes are tender, maybe 2 hours (depends on how big your chicken and potato pieces are).  Then, take the can of peas, water and all, and throw them in the pan as soon as it comes out.  Let sit a few minutes to warm the peas. 

Dora [Barbaresi] Donroe
New Haven, Connecticut
1918 -

And that's the end of the Italian Cookbook Friday, folks.  (If you missed the beginning, it starts here.)