Carrot Cake & Grace

So here it was, Memorial Day weekend, and I decided to bake. Mind you, I am not precise enough to be a baker. I think my baking expertise stops somewhere around a boxed cake.

Needless to say, baking is not my strong suit, but I decided to step outside my comfort zone anyway. Saturday morning I woke up, gave myself a little pep talk and a confidence boost with a few affirmations, then headed to the kitchen to tackle blueberry muffins. These weren't just ordinary blueberry muffins, either. They had a crumb topping, and everything was made from scratch.

I followed the directions and, for what may have been the first time in my life, everything turned out exactly the way it was supposed to on the first try. I was so excited I didn't even think to take pictures.

By Monday morning, I had the itch to bake again. Back in March I had saved a recipe for carrot cake bars from scratch. I'd been putting it off because it looked a little intimidating, but after my blueberry muffin success, I figured maybe this was the day.

Once again, I gave myself a pep talk and headed into the kitchen. This time I was going to be prepared. I gathered every ingredient and lined them up on the counter in the order I would need them, convinced that being organized would somehow make me a better baker.

The first step was making carrot purée. I peeled the carrots, chopped them up, steamed them, and blended them in the food processor. The purée reminded me of fresh baby food. Honestly, if I had made extra, I probably would have eaten it. I stood there for a minute taking in the smell, remembering when my kids were babies. It made me wish I had made them fresh baby food instead of buying the little jars. It smelled the same, but somehow fresher, and for a brief moment I forgot I was baking at all.

Once I snapped back into reality, it was time to roast the pecans and this is where things started to go a little sideways. I spread the pecans onto a small baking sheet, slid them into the oven, and confidently told myself I wouldn't forget about them. I'd keep an eye on them.

Well...I didn't.

Instead, I started reading ahead to see what I could prep next.

A few minutes later, I smelled them. You know that smell when something has just crossed the line from toasted to burnt? Yeah...that smell. I opened the oven, surprised they didn't actually look that bad. I blew on one, popped it into my mouth, and immediately knew they were beyond saving.

Gross.

So I decided the recipe could survive without pecans and kept moving forward.

The next step was browned butter. I had never made browned butter before, and there seemed to be a very fine line between perfectly browned and completely ruined. Somehow, I managed to get it just right. It smelled rich and buttery with that wonderful nutty aroma everyone talks about. Feeling pretty proud of myself, I added the brown sugar just like the recipe instructed.

Then I whisked.

And whisked.

And whisked some more.

The recipe kept referring to it as a batter, but mine looked nothing like a batter.

No matter how hard I whisked, the butter and sugar would come together for a few seconds, then immediately separate again like oil and vinegar. That was my breaking point.

It's amazing how quickly confidence can disappear. Just an hour earlier I was feeling capable, and now I was tearing myself apart because a recipe wasn't behaving the way I thought it should. Before I knew it, tears were welling up in my eyes.

So I quit.

I walked away from the kitchen, accepted defeat, and went to spend time with my furry family instead.

A few days passed, and somewhere around Wednesday I decided I wasn't quite ready to let the recipe win so after work on Thursday, I walked back into the kitchen with a different mindset. I wasn't trying to make something picture perfect anymore. At that point, I just hoped it would taste good. So, I started where I had left off.

Again, I made the browned butter.

Again, I added the brown sugar.

And again...It separated.

Only this time, instead of assuming I had done something wrong, I decided to keep going. The recipe still insisted it was a batter, even though it certainly didn't look like one. I figured maybe it would all come together eventually and I am glad I did because guess what? It did!

As I added the remaining ingredients, the mixture slowly became exactly what the recipe had been describing all along. Apparently, the recipe knew something I didn't.

Once everything was mixed together, I poured it into the pan and slid it into the oven.

As it baked, the whole house smelled incredible. When the timer went off, I opened the oven door, closed my eyes for just a second, took a deep breath, and then looked.

It looked beautiful!

The directions said to lift it out with the parchment paper and place it on a wire rack to cool. Easy enough. Except...

Right before I made it to the cooling rack, it started to slip.

I quickly redirected it to the counter, but it landed half on the rack and half on the countertop, leaving cracks running through the bars. The largest crack had several smaller ones branching off from it, almost like the limbs of a tree.

I have to admit, I was disappointed. I had imagined taking beautiful pictures, instead, I had cracked carrot cake bars but I was proud so I took the pictures anyway.

After they cooled just enough, I cut myself a piece. It was, without question, the best carrot cake I have ever eaten.

So yes, I absolutely recommend Ree Drummond's carrot cake bar recipe. Just know that when she tells you the butter and brown sugar mixture is supposed to look like a batter...don't panic if it doesn't. Keep going.

Thank you, Ree.

Looking back, I don't think this story is really about carrot cake.

What stayed with me wasn't the burnt pecans or even the cracked bars. It was how quickly my mind turned a recipe that wasn't cooperating into a story about my own abilities. Nothing had actually failed yet, but I had already convinced myself that I had.

Funny how we do that sometimes and to be honest, I have done it more times than I would like to admit.

The bars still cracked.

The pecans still burned.

The recipe still wasn't as clear as it could have been.

None of it mattered.

The carrot cake was delicious.

Sometimes the thing standing between us and success isn't talent or ability. Sometimes it's simply staying in the kitchen long enough to find out how the story ends. And maybe that's true for more than just baking.

A Moment to Reflect

Looking back, I realized I never actually failed the first time. I simply decided I had. The recipe wasn't ruined. It just wasn't behaving the way I thought it should, and somewhere along the way I mistook uncertainty for failure. I wonder how many things in life we walk away from for the very same reason.

Ask yourself: Can you think of a time when you walked away believing you had failed, only to realize later you just hadn't finished yet? I'd love to hear from you.