Having a baby around lets you see the world as a brand-new place. It is the coolest. Ordinary objects and events become utterly fascinating because I get to watch Lucy notice them for the first time. A candle’s flame shape-shifting in the quiet house, leaves fluttering in the breeze, hail tap-dancing against the car window, sunlight patterns glowing through the shutters, the snap-pop of a flag in a windstorm; these phenomena elicit the most wonderful reactions. Sometimes she gets very quiet and stares. Sometimes she laughs—a chuckle, a giggle, a chortle. Sometimes she turns her head back and looks at me with her bright eyes and delighted smile: “Do you see that? Please tell me you see that.” She makes magic of the mundane.
Thanks to Lucy, I have found myself experiencing a joy that I had almost forgotten. I have been uncovering memories bit-by-bit, like peeling wallpaper. Suddenly, I feel more alive, more hopeful, and my heart beats in anticipation like it used to when I would turn over beach rocks at low tide to discover tiny tidal worlds of sand crabs and snails. I realize that I pushed away the child I was, reinventing myself, as we do, trying to be Somebody but not finding the satisfaction that I so desperately sought. It is refreshing, cleansing, and freeing to remember the things I used to love so much and to feel so completely unashamed in reclaiming them as mine. Books and stories, songs, hobbies (I used to sew! I used to paint! I used to make collages and paper flowers!). I feel as if I have been born anew alongside Lucy, given new innocence, or at least a reprieve from concern over the judgments of others—and this feeling is an unexpected and welcome gift. I feel light. I feel happy.
My 36th birthday was a couple of weeks ago. It was a Tuesday, and I had to work. Mike had a late-night poetry class and a lot on his mind. He forgot to tell me happy birthday. I got a text from my mom that made me cry. I got a headache from my students. It was kind of a shitty day. I felt sorry for myself for a while, and then I got home, and Lucy laughed and pretty soon Mike came home and gave me a hug and everything was mostly okay again. Except that no one made me a cake. I was about to forgo the festivity, to wallow in just a little more self-pity, but then I decided: no. I wanted a birthday cake. I wanted carrot cake. So I made it myself! What a delicious relief to do as I pleased.
Darling Carrot Cake
adapted from The Joy of Eating, by Renny Darling
This cake is one of those sense-memories. I forgot about it, until I remembered it. And then no other recipe would do. Its secret weapon is cream cheese not only in the frosting, but in the cake itself. This touch makes the cake dense and moist in the best way possible.
For the cake:
2 cups flour
2 cups sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
2 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp nutmeg (freshly grated is best)
4 eggs
1 1/2 cups canola oil
1/2 lb cream cheese, softened
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 cup chopped walnuts
3 cups shredded carrots
Preheat oven to 350º. Butter and flour two 9-inch round cake pans. Combine flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg in a bowl and set aside. Beat together eggs, oil, cream cheese, and vanilla in a large mixing bowl. Gradually add the dry mixture, beating after each addition, until batter is smooth. Stir in walnuts and carrots. Pour into cake pans. Bake for 40-45 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool the cakes in the pan for 10 minutes, and then remove them to a wire rack to cool completely. Frost with cream cheese frosting.
For the frosting:
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, softened
1/2 lb cream cheese, softened
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 lb sifted powdered sugar
Beat together butter, cream cheese, and vanilla. Add the sugar gradually (so that it doesn’t puff up in a huge sugar cloud all over your kitchen), and beat frosting until smooth and creamy.
pruneandpear 