
I was one of those children whose dinner plate continually exhibited a dividing line between all the components of the meal.
The meat could not touch the starch which could not touch the vegetables. If these battle lines were crossed, by a daring stray pea or a rebellious grain of rice, my meal was ruined. I stubbornly refused to eat the contaminated offenders.
While I have, luckily, outgrown this oddity, I still must admit I will never, ever desire vegetables to find their way into my dessert.
However, I was overruled over the Fourth of July holiday, as the request for carrot cake was served and dutifully delivered.
The crumb of this cake is soft, crumbly and spicy, with the little hand-grated flecks of carrots lending their orange hue.










