Thursday, October 23, 2008

The Carrot Cake that Broke my Heart

I found a recipe. I read the reviews. And I didn't listen.

Zested carrots do not equal grated carrots. But my zester, silly zester, also calls itself a grater. Why would an amateur baker think it wouldn't work? Surely my carrots would work with me. I handled them delicately, placed them in paper towels to dry them, and though they ended up a wet pile of mush, I refused to give up on them. I made my batter and lovingly folded the carrots in at the end. Then I placed them in my 350 degree pre-heated oven and hoped for the best.

After about 15 minutes, the familiar smell of carrot cake with a hint of cinammon wafted through the apartment. My carrots did not fail me! At 20 minutes, another smell began wafting. Something a little less carrot cake-like and little more scorched. I hesitantly turned on the oven light and peaked in. One cake was beginning to sink and the other was already a horrible brown. This was not the scent of a good carrot cake. At 30 minutes, the smell was unbearable, and I took them out.

Too much moisture + mushy carrots = foul-smelling apartment + broken heart

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