This recipe is the one I make when I need to make an impression. Since carrot cake seems relatively innocuous, nobody thinks you’re being a show-off. Plus, it’s so easy, you literally can’t ruin it. I’ll explain…

I once made this cake for a faux-Thanksgiving and accidentally used flour in lieu of half of the confectioner’s sugar called for in the recipe, (never mix-up your Mason jars) but even so, people ate it up. Not just to be polite, although I think it went down a little easier since so much wine had been imbibed.

Another time, I made this for a real Thanksgiving dinner at my in-laws house. Needless to say, I neglected to flour the greased pan, and ended up removing the cake in chunks. Even so, it was incredible: nothing like a thick cream cheese frosting to layer into your dough and glue things right up.

What I’m saying is that this cake simply can’t be ruined, even if you commit the most egregious of cooking errors. And when you do it right, it’s mind-blowing.

I recently had a Sunday afternoon to spend with my friend Katelyn, and we decided to make this in a more diminutive form–the kind that’s easily shared and wins you lots of friends and fans. Every crumb of our cupcakes seemed suspended in air, or perhaps a lattice-work of carrot and coconut shreds. There was the occasional walnut to add texture and the slight tartness of the cream cheese did wonders for off-setting the sweetness of the caramelized batter.

The recipe below is copied almost exactly from Saveur, although I like to add 1/4 c of maple syrup to the batter and sprinkle toasted coconut on top of the finished product (usually 1/2 cup will do). When I do this as a full-sized cake, I bake 2 rounds, double the frosting and make a layer cake with walnuts along the sides and coconut on top.

Carrot Cake (Cupcakes)

Makes 24

BATTER:

Nonstick cooking spray
2 cups sugar
1 1⁄2 cups canola oil
3 eggs
2 cups flour
2 tsp. ground cinnamon
2 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. fine salt
1  8-oz. can crushed pineapple, undrained
1  7-oz. bag shredded sweetened coconut
1 cup finely chopped walnuts
2 tsp. vanilla extract
2 large carrots, trimmed and finely shredded (about 2 cups)

ICING:

3 cups confectioners’ sugar
3⁄4 lb. cream cheese, softened
8 tbsp. salted butter, softened
1⁄2 tsp. vanilla extract

CAKE: Preheat oven to 350°.

Fill 12 cupcake tins with liners. (You’ll do this twice.)

Put sugar, oil, and eggs into a large bowl and whisk until well combined.

Add flour, cinnamon, baking soda, and salt and stir with a wooden spoon until just mixed together into a batter.

Add pineapple with juice, coconut, walnuts, vanilla, and carrots and gently fold together until combined.

Transfer batter to prepared pan, smooth top with a rubber spatula, and bake until deep golden brown and a toothpick inserted in the middle of the cake comes out clean, 50–55 minutes. Set cake aside to let cool completely.

ICING: Put sugar, cream cheese, butter, and vanilla into a large bowl and beat with an electric mixer until fluffy, 4–5 minutes.

Generously frost each cupcake (once cooled) and sprinkle the top with toasted coconut.

Still, those mornings happened in Connecticut, far north of here. Here, it rarely snows at all—though last winter there was a fifteen-minute flurry that caused as many accidents during its fleeting lifespan. And even though not an inch stuck to the wet ground, the Houston Independent School District was quick to shut its doors this year, remembering, I suppose, the many car crashes that ensued during the city’s last dusting.

Or maybe the educational honchos did it because they felt like every kid deserves at least one snow day in his or her lifetime. Did a very benevolent superintendent wake up and think to himself, “This day, December 4, might be my only chance to give these kids a shot at snow angels?” Or maybe he wanted to give all his exhausted teachers a chance to put their feet up with some hot, buttered rum. These were the things I thought about as I stared at my reflection against the backdrop of a neighbor’s white, speckled rooftop.

The house was full this weekend, which always makes things feel festive, no matter what the weather. But these last few days, with friends and flurries all around us, things really felt special. The kind of special that makes you want to eat gingerbread and homemade whipped cream.

A few of our favorite people came by on Saturday night for an evening of champagne; spicy shrimp and chorizo soup; a caramelized onion crostata; a lively game of charades and finally gingerbread, dusted with sugar and piled high with whipped cream. All of that eating, drinking and playing exhausted us enough to spread communally onto couches and overstuffed chairs and fall asleep—like the naked lethargarians in the Phantom Tollbooth. I always identify with those little creatures after a big meal. Needless to say, I woke up this morning feeling very full of the holiday spirit indeed.

And though the guests have departed, a few slices of maple gingerbread remain, along with quite a cloud of whipped cream. A gal can never feel sad with a fridge full of the holidays.

Maple Gingerbread

Adapted from The Joy of Cooking

With all ingredients at room temperature, preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Grease and flour a 9-inch square baking pan.

2 ¼ c all-purpose flour
1 ½ tsp baking soda
1 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp ground cinnamon
½ tsp salt

1 c hot water
½ c light molasses
½ c local honey
½ c maple syrup

½ c (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted and cooled
1 large egg
½ c sugar
3 tbs chopped, crystallized ginger tossed lightly in flour (optional)

Whisk together the flour, soda, ginger, cinnamon and salt.

In a separate, small bowl, whisk together the water, molasses, honey and maple syrup

In the bowl of a stand mixer (or not if it’s snowed so much that the power’s gone out) blend together the butter, egg and sugar.

Add the wet and dry ingredients, alternating between each and mixing thoroughly with each addition.

Before pouring batter to pan, stir in crystallized ginger.

Bake approximately 1 hour, serve with homemade whipped cream and a bit of confectioner’s sugar.

Whipped Cream

1 pint of heavy cream
½ c confectioner’s sugar

Here you will want to use some electrical assistance—hopefully your lights are back on.
Pour cream into the bowl of a hand or stand mixture and beat until it fluffs, adding sugar after the cream takes form.

Add as much or as little sugar as you like, depending on the demands of your sweet tooth.

Anyway,  a couple of Septembers ago—trying to prepare for Lily’s birthday—I was deeply disappointed by the hole in Bittman’s big, yellow book. To comfort myself, I made some of the author’s oatmeal cookies, a few pages away from where the carrot cake recipe should have been. Perhaps I was just too incredulous to read the recipe properly, but by the end of the evening, all I could think was, “Why the h-e-double-hockey-stick does this man not have an editor?!” The cookies were so bad, I had to crumble them into granola. And it wasn’t even that delicious.

Well, I was skeptical on Wednesday when I came upon the dining section and spied a good looking recipe by a man who I have scorned since last summer. I haven’t made anything of his, tempted though I’ve been: none of the Minimalist’s 100 Salads, no veggie flatbreads, no coddled strawberries. Last Wednesday changed things, though: not just because I found a delicious new cake, but because I can finally trust Mark Bittman in a way I’ve always dreamed of. Flatbread here I come.

The kettle was shrieking as I plodded groggily from the front yard to the kitchen to attend to tea, breakfast and some morning news. I filled my cup, arranged my cereal and made it back to the kitchen table for my favorite Times section of the week. The pages flopped open, exposing none other than a beautiful upside-down cake by none other than the Minmalist, aka my baking nemesis.

Damn. I could either forgo the cake in my stubborn prejudices, or give Bittman another chance. But as it happened, I had 4 aging pears in my crisper, a beautiful bottle of Vermont maple syrup leftover from the wedding, and a terrible sweet tooth. I decided to be the bigger person, and not let a grudge get between me and good food.

In the process of making this cake, I learned not only how to bake a terrific upside-down cake, but also how to make maple caramel and how to make the most glorious cake batter I’ve ever tasted. The caramel was a deep, smooth amber, sweet and smoky and perfect and the batter shone like a pearl—I guess enough butter, sugar and milk will do that. Either way, the whole thing was glorious. I am so happy to put this one-sided rivalry behind me. I have a feeling I’ll be Bitten again soon.

Maple Pear Upside-down Cake

11 tablespoons butter at room temperature
3/4 cup pure maple syrup
1/4 cup packed brown sugar
4 pears, peeled, cored and thinly sliced
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 large eggs
1 1/2 cups flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup milk

Preheat oven to 350 degrees and grease a 9” cake pan, careful to coat the edges.

Whisk flour, baking powder and salt in a bowl.

In another bowl, beat 8 tbsp butter and white sugar until light and fluffy. Add eggs one at a time, along with vanilla.

Without overmixing, add dry ingredients to wet in three batches, alternating with milk.

Working quickly (you don’t want the batter to sit too long), bring 3 tbsp butter, maple syrup and brown sugar to a boil and cook for 2 minutes, stirring once at the very beginning to ensure that sugar dissolves. Remove from heat and set aside.

When caramel has cooled slightly, pour into the bottom of the cake pan. Arrange pear slices in an overlapping circle on top of the caramel, and pour batter over fruit, spreading gently with a spatula for equal cover.

Bake about 45-50 minutes. Allow cake to cool a bit before sliding a blade around the edge of the pan to loosen the cake from the edge. Place a large plate on top of the pan and flip so that the pan is on top and the plate is on the bottom. Remove baking dish and voila!

Makes a great breakfast.

But what I love most about September is its people. My sister, my father, both of my grandfathers, my mother and father in law (to be), and me, too… all September babies. All of those lives coming into the world is really something to cheer about. Clearly our forefathers were having fun at Christmastime—and happened to make a long string of personal holidays nine months later.

This year I had a beautiful day, full of cupcakes, good wine and some twenty-five elementary students singing me the birthday song over a batch of recently baked zucchini muffins. It was quite blissful, especially since I’m currently anticipating a lot of wonderful changes…none the least of which is a trip down the aisle a week hence—followed promptly by a long drive down Highway 1.

But before once celebration is swallowed by another, I’d like to take a moment and pay homage to the homage recently paid to my sister Lily, who turned a year wiser this month. May she eat carrots in the form of cake for decades to come. And may I always be the one to bake them that way.

We started the tradition of carrot cake last year, when I made some cupcakes. This year, things got a little more serious with the addition of some key, New England ingredients, and an added layer to a full-grown version. Even though we abandoned the diminutive cakes, we stuck with some important elements, including toasted walnuts and classic cream cheese frosting, smoothed on top, over the sides, and in a thick layer between. It was a great way to mark a year’s worth of improved baking. Just a subtle, nutty and sweet hint of autumn’s favorite foods, folded into the batter and laced into the cake’s silky, white dress. God bless New England at the onset of fall—and hip hip hooray for all the lovers out there. The holidays are just around the corner.

Maple Walnut Carrot Cake

1.5 c chopped, toasted walnuts
2 ½ c grated carrots
½ c pure maple syrup
2 cups sugar
1.5 c vegetable oil
2 tsp vanilla extract
3 eggs
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 tsp cinnamon
2 tsp baking soda
1.5 tsp kosher salt

Cream Cheese Frosting:

1/2 cup soft, unsalted butter
16 oz cream cheese (2 regular sized packages)
4 cups confectioner’s sugar, sifted
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
zest of 2 lemons
¼ c pure maple syrup

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For Cake

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Blend maple syrup, sugar, oil and vanilla extract in a large bowl. Beating in eggs one at a time.

In another bowl, sift flour, cinnamon, baking soda and salt.

Gently blend dry ingredients into wet ingredients.

Fold in carrots and 1 c walnuts.

Divide equally into two 9 x 2” cake pans and bake 30 minutes.

Let stand on wire rack to cool completely.

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For Frosting

With a hand or stand mixer, blend butter, cream cheese, vanilla extract, lemon juice and maple syrup until creamy.

Add confectioners sugar and mix to incorporate.

When cakes are cool, place one top down (so that the flat side faces up) on a platter.

Generously top with frosting—the layer must be thick enough to stand up once another layer of cake is placed on top. Sprinkle with half of remaining walnuts.

Place second cake on top of the first, also with the top down.

Spread remaining frosting over the top and sides of cake.

Garnish with leftover walnuts.

Nobody tells you that when a boy gets down on one knee and asks you to be his bride that you will become a slave, slave to the nuptial process. Don’t get me wrong, if ever there were occasion to be indentured, this is it, but it is a big, big time suck. You end up devoting your life to fittings and phone calls to make sure that everything goes just right, and even when you’re not getting things done—like personally addressing 200 invitations—you’re constantly bearing the weight that there’s more to do and that you might forget something. Or that God will just laugh on your big day and pelt you with a hailstorm.

This lead-up is half the fun, I suspect: all of the hope, all of the suspense, all of the dreams—for the rest of my life. But at the end of the day, I just want to be in love and eat cake. Olive oil cake, preferably, in the morning, because that is when I find it most tasty. I am imagining myself now, a Mrs., sitting on a white rocking chair, wearing a big flannel shirt, a soft woolen blanket and nothing else, while my husband brings me a slice of olive oil cake on a sunny Autumn morning. I don’t dream about my train, dragging down the aisle, or how the photographs will turn out. All I want is to sling my bare feet up on a balcony banister, rock back and forth with a cup of coffee, gaze longingly into Christopher’s eyes and swallow rich, golden crumbs lightly drizzled with maple syrup. Christopher—are you reading this?

I made this cake to pass an afternoon, wondering what I could do that wouldn’t require a trip to the grocery store. It turned out to be much more delightful than I expected, not too sweet, not too rich, but perfect straight from the oven. For a few days (it lasted three!) I toasted my slices and spread them with butter and a thin drizzle of maple syrup. Who would have thought? Maple syrup and olive oil? Yes. Well, turns out olive oil goes great with vanilla ice cream, too. Though I’m afraid it’s not quite schmancy enough to make a wedding cake out of.

Olive Oil Cake

Adapted from Bon Appetit, Serves 6

1 ½ c flour
1 cup sugar
½ tsp baking soda
½ tsp baking powder
¼ tsp kosher salt
2 large eggs
¾ c whole milk
½ c olive oil
2 tsp orange zest

Preheat oven to 325.
Grease a 9 inch cake pan.
Whisk flour, sugar, baking soda, baking powder and kosher salt in a large bowl.
In another bowl whisk eggs, milk, oil and orange zest.
Gradually blend wet ingredients into dry–yes, you read that right.
Pour into pan and bake for 60 minutes, or until tester comes out clean.
Cool for at least 20 minutes and serve.

Garnish with a sprig of rosemary, maple syrup and / or vanilla ice cream.