Late Night Carrot Cake

On the nights when my apartment walls feel like they’re closing in or the words just don’t seem to come or I’m not in the mood to be alone at home, I go to the diner.

It’s usually around 1o or 11 pm when I get there. Around this time, it’s mostly empty. There might be a few people scattered in the booths against the walls or one other person at the stool top.

I always grab a stool, order a hot coffee with cream, and a slice of carrot cake.

It’s the classic tale of a New York City writer–alone in a diner, late at night, searching for inspiration and sipping on a steaming cup of coffee. The carrot cake is the bonus. The icing is thick and sweet and pairs perfectly with the savory cake underneath. It’s a hearty slice, with little chunks of carrots and walnuts baked throughout. The little extra crunch in every bite is good. It adds character to the cake. 

Every time I get a slice of carrot cake, it somehow turns into a philosophical life lesson. You could blame it on the sugar rush…but I think it’s my own way of learning from the moment, instead of focusing my loneliness. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy my aloneness, but cake is much better with company. 

Last week on carrot cake night, it was all about enjoying every bite, just like moments in life. Tonight, the slice reminded me of a quote from a book I read long ago:

“CHILD: “Why does carrot cake have the best icing?”

 MOTHER: “Because it needs the best icing.”

I stared at the cake, deep in thought.

This is true. If it wasn’t for the sugary cream cheese frosting, the carrot cake would indefinitely lose its deliciousness. It would be bland and strange. After all, turning a vegetable into a cake requires sweetness. Without that element, every bite would feel like something is missing…

That’s because savory needs sweet. 

 One without the other, well, it just wouldn’t be complete. 

Carrot and cake shouldn’t really go together in the first place. That makes it the trickiest to get right when it comes to harmonizing the flavors of savory and sweet. Too much of one, means missing more of the other. There has to be balance in every bite, or else, it just doesn’t taste right…

Kinda like life…

Kinda like love.. 

Kinda like people…

When mixing opposites, you have to meet in the middle. There has to be a balance of one thing and another thing so that it’s just right. My train of thought breaks for moment as I scoop up a spoonful of frosting and halved almonds. The bite was just right….

The late night carrot cake has brought my mind all the way to the goldilocks’ principle. Not too hot, not too cold, just right….kinda… like….. my cup of my coffee. I glance over at the porcelain mug. It’s filled to the brim with tawny colored liquid and buzzing along with the dishwasher underneath the counter. For a minute, I think about how I can compare almost anything to my carrot cake metaphor. My eyes dart over to my phone and back over to the slice of cake. The waiter asks me why I’m always alone. The word “alone” doesn’t bother me one bit, but the word “always” does. I squirm in my seat and smile. Even the answer to that question is bittersweet…dammit. Just like the carrot cake.