Cake Thief

The best way to explain how much I love carrot cake is to tell you about a horrible thing I did when I was 17. That summer, my mom married a man named Craig, and at their wedding I devoured slice after slice of the loveliest carrot cake I've ever tasted. 

At first glance, it looked like an everyday sheet cake, short and square with a snowy layer of frosting coating all sides. But it had a light, moist crumb, flecked with sweet strands of carrot and plump little raisins. There were also walnuts, I think, scattered throughout every slice. That cake kept me hovering by the dessert table all afternoon. 

The saddest part of the story, though, is that eating multiple slices of cake at the wedding was not enough to sate my appetite for the thing; in the months that followed, I continued to pick at the foil wrapped slab my mom had tucked away in our freezer. There was no harm, I reasoned, in taking a sliver here and a sliver there - except that there was. That slab I was nibbling away at was the piece she and my new stepdad were saving for their first anniversary. 

Yes, I am a cake thief of the worst sort.

Based on this evidence, you might think that the cake was the Best Carrot Cake I'd Ever Eaten. But truthfully, I just can't be trusted around carrot cake of any sort. It disappears just as quickly whether it's an elegant, multi-layerd cake or, as I learned recently, a basterdized version of the old classic that invites parsnips to the pastry party.

Parsnips, after all, are not so different from carrots. They are both spindly root vegetables that we're eager to ignore completely or serve solely in roasts and mashes and soups. In truth, their natural sweetness and delicate texture suggests they belong in baked goods; blend the two root veggies together and you'll capture the inherent flavors of each.

And since I've just, hopefully, convinced you to swap parsnips in for some of the carrots in your next cake, let's push this cake a little further in the obscure direction, away from the ubiquitous coconut-pineapple mix-ins toward boozy rum raisins. And icing? Yes please.

These cupcakes might not replace that stolen wedding cake but I think they'll remind my parents that I'm still very sorry. 

Iced Carrot-Parsnip Cupcakes

Though I adore carrot cake, I also like turning a classic recipe on its head by incorporating the humble parsnip into the batter. The rum raisins strewn through the batter give them adult appeal. 

Makes 18 cupcakes

For the cupcakes

1 cup raisins

3 tablespoon dark rum
2 cups whole wheat pastry flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
¾ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1 ¼ cups packed brown sugar
¾ cup grapeseed oil
4 eggs
½ cup unsweetened applesauce

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 ½ cups finely grated peeled carrots
1 ½ cups finely grated peeled parsnips
½ cup toasted pecans, roughly chopped

For the icing

4 ounces cream cheese

3 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 ½ cups confectioners’ sugar

½ teaspoon vanilla extract

½ teaspoon grated orange zest

1–2 tablespoons fresh orange juice 

Make the cupcakes: Prepare two standard size muffin tins with paper liners and preheat the oven to 325 degrees.  

Place the raisins and rum in a microwave safe bowl and cover the bowl with plastic wrap. Microwave them on high for 1 minute. Uncover the raisins and set aside to cool. 

Whisk the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg together in a medium bowl. Set aside. Beat the brown sugar and oil together in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment on medium speed until combined. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating on medium speed and scraping down the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula as needed. Mix in the applesauce and vanilla on medium speed. Mix in the flour mixture on medium speed, scraping down the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula as needed.  

Fold in the carrots, parsnips, pecans, and ¾ cup of the raisins with a rubber spatula until just combined. Fill the prepared muffin tins approximately two-thirds full with the batter and bake for 20 minutes, until the cupcakes are golden brown and a wooden pick comes out clean. 

Remove the cupcakes from the oven and let them cool for 10 minutes before removing them from the tins. Cool them completely on a wire rack.

Make the frosting: When the cupcakes are cool, blend the cream cheese and butter with a handheld mixer on medium speed. Sift the confectioners’ sugar into the bowl and beat it into the cream cheese and butter on medium speed until incorporated. Mix in the vanilla, orange zest, and 1 tablespoon of the orange juice on medium speed. Add the remaining tablespoon of orange juice if needed to thin out the frosting.  

Spread the frosting on top of the cooled cupcakes. Top each cupcake with a few of the remaining rum-soaked raisins before serving.

The eggs stand alone

In one corner: a lemony, herb-laced fromage blanc, perfect for dredging a baton of bread through before popping the whole thing into your mouth. In the other corner: eggs en cocotte.

I know, I've made the fromage blanc spread sound far more addictive (and it is astoundingly good) but I have to say it's the eggs en cocotte that I want to make every evening of late. Can I be blamed for falling in love with a dish whose very name seems to coo softly, oh please make me every time I give it a glance? 

I didn't think so.

My good friend Louisa, she being the latest MIX cover girl and (as of tomorrow) my cooking instructor, sent this recipe over with a photo that was positively mouthwatering. That image made me believe this would be the golden child of a week's worth of meals, and I was right. These humble baked eggs have trumped everything I've made since we first met.  

Eggs en cocotte is a superbly simple sort of dish, one that's rich and creamy and belly warming at once without hitting you over the head with said richness. With the addition of bright green spinach, it even feels healthful and subtly spring-esque. I imagine it's just the sort of thing I'll want to serve around Easter with mimosas on the side.

Here's what I love best about this dish though: it has layers. Once I broke through the crust of the baked eggs, I found myself trying to concoct the perfect bite, one that included the slippery egg white and runny yolk, the crunchy-chewy croutons, the supple spinach and the sweet onions hidden way down beneath. That bite was pure, perfect bliss.

There's not much more I can say about this dish except to offer the thought that since this is a winning dish, you should take the chance to dress it up. Louisa's suggestion: set it atop a folded napkin on a small plate and serve it as the first course at a dinner party. The napkin, you see, gives the dish an elegant edge and hints that these aren't your average baked eggs. 

Eggs en Cocotte 
The name is fancy and yet this dish is nearly effortless to make. The one key to this recipe, says Louisa, is to fry the bread cubes in butter until they are golden on the outside but still give a little in the middle. 

4 servings

4 tablespoons unsalted butter, plus more for buttering the ramekins
3 slices (about 1 1/2 cups) artisan bread, diced into 1/4-inch pieces
1 small yellow onion (about 1 cup), diced
1 1/2 cups spinach, roughly chopped
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 eggs
2 ounces heavy cream
2 tablespoons flat leaf parsley, finely chopped

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Lightly butter the insides of four 8-ounce ramekins.

Melt 2 tablespoons of the butter in a small skillet over medium heat. Add the bread to the skillet and fry, stirring occasionally, until the bread is crispy and brown on the outside. Transfer the croutons to a small bowl.

Melt the remaining 2 tablespoons butter in the skillet and add the onions, cooking until they have softened slightly and are golden brown. Divide the onions between the ramekins, then layer the chopped spinach over the onions. Pile the croutons on top of the spinach and sprinkle with salt and pepper. 

Fill a large Dutch oven with 1 inch of water and place it on the stove top. Break an egg into each ramekin and spoon the cream over the eggs, dividing it equally between the ramekins. Set the ramekins in the pot and bring the water to a boil.

When the water begins to boil, place the pot in the oven. Bake the eggs for approximately 10 minutes, until the egg whites are set. The yolks should be soft and runny. Garnish with the chopped parsley and additional salt and pepper. Serve immediately.

-Recipe from Louisa Neumann