Carrot Cake (Invite to Dinner)
This week’s prompt for 52 Ancestors in 52 weeks is Invite to Dinner. I thought long and hard about what to write on this. Pretty much any of my brick wall ancestors would be at the tops of the list – to be able to dine with and have them answer the many burning questions I have for them, especially my husband’s Irish ancestors? I would be over the moon. There are also some people I’d love to talk with about their life and career, but in the end I couldn’t narrow it down to a single person.
I looked through my records and other than a recipe to alleviate rheumatism, I came up a bit short. I decided that maybe I had to look a little closer to the present, so today I’m going to share a recipe that was passed down through my mum’s side of the family for Carrot Cake.
If you are British, this is more like a Cut and Come Again cake, except darker and moister. If you aren’t, well, this isn’t the type of Carrot Cake you generally encounter. However, it is the Carrot Cake that our family makes every Christmas as well as other times of the year.
- 1 ½ cups water
- 1 ½ cups carrots shredded
- 1 ½ cups sugar
- 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
- 1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
- 1 teaspoon ground cloves
- 2 tablespoons oil
- 1 ½ cups raisins preferably sultana
- 2 cups unbleached flour
- 2 teaspoons baking soda
- ½ cup chopped walnuts
In a medium saucepan, bring first 8 ingredients to a boil, and let boil for 5 minutes. Set aside and let cool, until just cool enough to touch (not cold).
In a large mixing bowl, combine flour, and baking soda. Stir in carrot mixture, just until moistened. Add walnuts if desired.
Transfer to a greased and floured loaf pan, and cook at 350°F for 1 hour, until cooked through. Let cool on a wire rack for 1 hour. Place cake in a bread bag, and allow to sit 24 hour before cutting.
Optionally, the loaf can be iced. Can be refrigerated up to 2 weeks, or frozen.
52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks is a blogging prompt started by Amy Johnson Crow. My stories will include both sides of our family, including collateral lines. And apparently, sometimes a recipe
Copyright ©2018, Chriss Coleman