My relationship with carrot cake goes all the way back to December, 1976. My love for this particular carrot cake has endured through many moves across the country, many potlucks, birthdays and anniversaries. I have endured the loss of others whom I assumed loved this carrot cake as much as I do, and others I discovered, feel that carrots don’t belong in cake! Carrots are a vegetable and should never be associated with dessert.

            I was introduced to this particular carrot cake by my younger sister, Sylvia. She, her then husband, James, and their daughter, Alison, lived in Chandler, AZ. My son, Fritz, my older sister, Sandra, and I traveled from Seattle to visit them before Christmas that year. Sylvia made the carrot cake from a recipe she saw in the Phoenix Register on December 5, 1976. The cake awaited our arrival on the sideboard in her dining room. It was to be enjoyed with tea the afternoon of our arrival, but that was not to be.

            When Sylvia and her family picked us up at the airport in Phoenix at 8 a.m., they whisked us off to a new mall that recently opened. James insisted we watch the ice skaters at the lower level of the mall. We reveled in all the Christmas decorations on the three floors and sauntered through a couple of department stores which were open early because of the Christmas gift buying. As we checked out the Christmas tree made of stacked tumble weeds spray painted white and strung with colored lights, James sidled up to me. “How about we head to the house and have some cake?” he said seductively. 

            “Sounds great!” I replied.

            We drove to Chandler past several acres of cotton fields, past Arizona State University where James was teaching and working on his doctorate in Art Education. We got our luggage into the guest room while Sylvia put on the tea kettle. She set the table with her white Rosenthal china and sterling silver dessert forks. After we settled into the antique chairs around the table covered with one of our mother’s lace table clothes, she introduced us all to the carrot cake. “I saw this recipe in the news paper a couple of weeks ago. You are the first to try it,” she remarked as she cut each of us a piece of cake.

            I stared at the rich brown cake flecked with bits of orange from shredded carrots. Saw the cream color of chopped walnuts embedded in the moist dough. The eighth inch layer on top was not white-white, but slightly cream colored, a combination of cream cheese, butter and powered sugar. The square piece of carrot cake seemed to long for me to take my first bite.

            I sank the shiny fork through the cream cheese frosting, down through the corner of the cake, lifted the fork to my waiting mouth and slipped the piece of carrot cake off between my teeth and lips. I closed my eyes and delighted in flavors of cinnamon, walnuts and, yes, a hint of carrot. The bite was moist. The frosting moist. No doubt about, I was in love. Each bite was a treasure to my taste buds and a joy to my soul all before lunch.

            We sat at the table chatting, eating carrot cake and drinking tea for over an hour. James told us of the plans he and Sylvia had made for our trip. We would go to Scottsdale and Mesa. Their next door neighbors owned cotton acreage and had a cotton mill. They had invited us to take a tour of that one afternoon. Every minute of our stay would be full. Then James added, “Most of our meals will be here, so we won’t be far from the carrot cake and tea.”

            With that we left to tour the campus of ASU only to return soon for a bowl of soup and more carrot cake. During the next five days we ate four carrot cakes. Sylvia stayed up late into the night to be sure there was a newly baked carrot cake waiting on the sideboard each morning.

            When we left for the airport to return to Seattle, she made sure I had the recipe to take home with me. I made that carrot cake often to take for potluck lunches, or suppers. I made it for bake sales or other occasions. I baked it for my own birthday cake for several years.

            In 1980 a therapist came from Switzerland to teach us at the Children’s Therapy Unit. When Linda, the Director, told her we were to have a potluck dinner in her honor at Linda’s house, she was impressed with the friendliness of Northwesterners. Linda mentioned I would be bringing my now famous carrot cake for the dessert. The visiting therapist did not comment or seem impressed. After the dinner, the visiting therapist came up to me, a lovely smile on her face. “I have never eaten such a wonderful carrot cake for dessert in my life. In my country carrot cake is dry and tasteless,” she said. “Would you mind sharing the recipe?”

            “Why no,” I replied, thanking her for the compliment. “The only problem is I won’t be able to translate the ingredients into European measurements.”

            “That’s OK. I have friends with American baking utensils,” she replied. “I’ll get them to do that.”

            After I moved to Alaska in 1986, I only made the carrot cake for church suppers or bake sales. The carrot cake was always something that was eaten, or sold quickly. The reputation of this carrot cake has traveled to New Mexico, Massachusetts, Maryland and Indiana.

            When I went to visit family in Washington state in 2016, my son, who was about to turn 50 told me over dinner, “Mom, carrots don’t belong in cake.” He had eaten that cake when he was a youngster without complaint. I was shocked to hear his admission. “You mean that it’s taken you this long to work up the courage to tell me you haven’t liked that cake for nearly 40 years?”

            “Yeah. I guess,” he replied. “I know you love this cake and I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,”

            I rarely bake anymore, but the president of the company my husband works for and I got chatting about cake one day a couple of months ago. Karlin said he will bake a cake for his grandchildren, but won’t eat the frosting. I asked what kind of cake he makes. “Oh several different kinds.”

            “What about carrot cake?” I asked.

            “Oh, I do like carrot cake and I will eat that frosting,” he said.

            Since his birthday was coming up in three weeks, I decided to surprise him with my carrot cake. I asked Everett, my husband, to be sure Karlin would be in the office on his birthday. I brought in the cake at lunch time. Everett rounded up everyone to be in the conference room then he went to find Karlin. When Karlin walked into the room he was surprised. He graciously cut the cake and when he took a bite, I could see he was delighted with the moist, flavorful cake. He asked me for the recipe even though some of his family members would say, “It’s too moist and carrots don’t belong in cake!”

Carrot Cake Recipe,

attributed to The Phoenix Gazette, December 5, 1976

2 Cups sugar

1 ½ Cups salad oil (I use Crisco vegetable oil)

4 eggs

2 Cups sifted flour

3 teaspoons cinnamon

1 teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon salt

3 Cups grated carrots

1 Cup chopped nuts (optional) (I prefer walnuts, but pecans might work well, too.)

            Sift flour, cinnamon, soda and salt together and set aside. Mix sugar, oil and eggs in a large bowl. Stir in flour mixture. Add grated carrots and nuts. Stir to blend. Pour batter into a 9 X 13 inch baking pan that has been greased and floured. (I use butter to grease the pan.) Bake 40 to 50 minutes at 350 degrees F, or until toothpick inserted into cake comes out clean. Cool cake in pan then frost with cream cheese frosting.

Cream Cheese Frosting

1 stick (1/4 pound) butter (You can use margarine, but I prefer butter for flavor)

8 oz. cream cheese  (I leave both these ingredients out on the counter over night to soften and make them easier to mix together.)

1 box powered sugar. (the 16 oz. size)

½ teaspoon vanilla

            Cream butter and cream cheese together until smooth. Add powdered sugar a little at a time until all is used and frosting is smooth. Add vanilla and mix well. (If frosting is still too stiff to smooth over cake, I add a bit of milk and blend into the mixture until the frosting will spread well but not be runny.) Frost cake generously.

            I do not have a calorie count for this cake or per slice of the cake. That was not required in 1976 when I received this recipe.