A Warm Slice of Comfort
Michelle Phetlhe | Wednesday February 18, 2026 06:04
And then there’s the one that keeps resurfacing in my home like an uninvited guest. Is carrot cake really cake?
Some people, bless their hearts, simply don’t recognise carrot cake as cake. I suppose the problem begins and ends with the carrot itself. A vegetable? In a cake? For some, that’s where logic packs its bags and leaves the room. In my house, the mere announcement that I’m baking carrot cake is often met with visible disappointment, dramatic sighs, and the kind of sadness you’d think I’d just cancelled dessert altogether. You’d swear I’d said, “We’re having steamed broccoli for dessert”.
Just the other day, cousin Rotlhe popped in to say hello and dropped off some beautiful, home-grown mangoes. The kind of mangoes that smell like sunshine and childhood summers. Naturally, I offered him cake. I already knew carrot cake wasn’t exactly popular at home, so I thought, perfect, more for someone else. I cut him two massive servings to take home and share, wrapped them with care, and sent him on his way.
Unbeknownst to me, the moment I turned my back, he apparently exclaimed, “Carrot cake? That’s not cake!” Imagine my surprise when I heard about this later. Imagine my husband’s delight. Another person in his corner. Another vote cast against carrot cake.
Carrot cake is a warm slice of comfort. It’s nostalgia. Its balance. Its depth. It’s the cake you reach for when you want something that feels like a hug rather than a sugar rush.
Let’s start with the basics. Carrot cake isn’t trying to be flashy. It doesn’t rely on sweetness or heavy frosting to win you over. It doesn’t scream for attention with neon colours or layers stacked higher than your expectations. Carrot cake whispers. It invites you in gently. It wins you over bite by bite. And let’s talk about that vegetable, shall we? The carrot isn’t there to trick you into eating something healthy. It’s there because it belongs. Carrots bring natural sweetness, moisture, and texture to the sponge. They work quietly in the background, doing what they do best, making things better. If anything, carrot cake is one of the most forgiving cakes you can bake. Moist, soft, even on a bad day.
Then there are the spices. Oh, the spices. This is where carrot cake truly shows its class. Cinnamon. Ginger. Sometimes nutmeg. Sometimes cloves. Deep, warming spices that turn an ordinary sponge into something layered and complex. These aren’t shy flavours. They’re confident, comforting, and familiar. They remind you of home kitchens, handwritten recipes, and baking done with intention.
In my kitchen, carrot cake is one of my go-to recipes when a craving hits. It’s foolproof. It’s quick. It’s not a hassle. The ingredients are usually already there: carrots sitting quietly in the fridge, a tin of oil, eggs, flour, sugar, and of course, trusty Hinds spices. Cinnamon and ginger are doing what they’ve done for generations: bringing warmth and depth to our food.
Carrot cake doesn’t demand perfection. It doesn’t collapse if you look at it wrong. It doesn’t punish you for a slightly overmixed batter or a few extra minutes in the oven. It meets you where you are. And in today’s world, isn’t that exactly what we want from our food?
What also makes carrot cake special is its versatility. It’s an all-round cake. Dress it up with cream cheese frosting and chopped nuts, and it’s celebration-ready. Leave it plain, dust it lightly with icing sugar, and it’s perfect with a cup of tea. Serve it warm in the morning, and no one complains that you’re eating cake for breakfast. Carrot cake is an any time of day cake. Morning, afternoon, evening, there’s never a wrong moment for it. It fits into birthdays, school functions, casual visits, and quiet moments when you just need something comforting. It doesn’t ask for a special occasion. In a world of overly sweet desserts, carrot cake stands firm in its restraint. The sweetness is measured, supported by spice, texture, and moisture. It’s the kind of cake you can actually finish a slice of and maybe go back for another without regret.
Food culture matters. What we consider “real cake” is often shaped by what we grew up with, what we were exposed to, and what we’re willing to try. Carrot cake challenges the idea that dessert must be excessively sweet to be enjoyable. It reminds us that flavour can be layered, that comfort doesn’t always come from sugar alone.
So the next time someone announces they’re making carrot cake, resist the urge to sigh. Don’t roll your eyes. Don’t assume disappointment. Sit down. Take a bite. Enjoy the spices. And if you still insist that carrot cake isn’t cake, that’s fine. More for the rest of us, the ones who know that a slice of carrot cake isn’t just dessert. It’s tradition. It’s warmth. It’s proof that sometimes, the most underestimated things are the most rewarding. Carrot cake belongs. On the table. In the recipe book. And firmly in the cake category.
INGREDIENTS
1 cup brown sugar 1/2 cup vegetable oil 1/4 cup buttercup, melted 1 1/2 teaspoons Hinds cinnamon 1/2 teaspoon Hinds ginger 1/2 teaspoon salt 2 large eggs 1 3/4 cups cake flour 2 teaspoons baking powder 1/2 teaspoon baking soda 2 cups grated carrots, about 3 large carrots
INSTRUCTIONS
Preheat the oven to 176 °C. In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the brown sugar, vegetable oil, melted butter, cinnamon, ginger, and salt. Add the eggs, and whisk until fully combined. Add the flour, baking powder, and baking soda, gently stirring until the batter is mostly combined. Add the grated carrots. Pour the batter into the prepared loaf pan and smooth the top with the spatula. Bake until a toothpick inserted into the centre of the loaf comes out clean, 50 to 60 minutes. Let the carrot loaf cool in the pan on a wire rack for 10 minutes. Run a butter knife along the two unlined ends of the cake, then use the parchment overhang like a sling to pull the cake out of the pan. Set the cake on the wire rack to cool completely.