I’ve never had much use for traditions. I was something of an iconoclast in my youth and thought that traditions were empty rituals, things done over-and-over for the sake of being done over-and-over. I frequently (and annoyingly, truth be told) bemoaned all traditions from the benign to the malignant.

Despite my best intentions, traditions have crept into my life over the years. Part of that is due to moving away from home; part of it to getting married and experiencing the fun of creating new rituals with my partner. But most of it was Iraq. I was volun-told for a four-month deployment, scheduled to depart in the spring. I was frantic that I would have to leave before Easter, not simply because I didn’t know what the holiday would be like on the base, but because I needed that last milestone, that last touch point with familiarity before I left for a place that was deeply unfamiliar. I found myself clinging to traditions in the days before I left, wanting to run my favorite routes, visit my favorite coffee shops, and make my favorite dishes one more time. When it came to Easter dinner, I took no chances at all, making my now-traditional chicken, leek, and mushroom pie and a carrot cake for dessert.

Several years older and a dubious amount wiser, I now see that it was only because my upbringing was secure that I could question tradition and see it as so unnecessary. Certainly, some of them are, but they’re also powerful. When they are thoughtful, traditions provide us with fixed points from which we can chart our course and our progress. They provide vantage points through which we can study other times, either happier or more difficult than the one we are abiding in. Traditions form anchors, the kind that steady us or the kind that keep us from moving forward. It’s up to us to decide.

Nowadays, no Easter feels complete without a towering carrot cake. For years, I used the same recipe, but this year I decided to push my own bounds by making not one but three different versions to taste test. Much to my surprise, the clear winner was not my traditional recipe, but it was the best carrot cake I’ve ever had. It’s a three-layer stunner redolent of spices, chock full of carrots and nuts, and crowned with the most glorious cream cheese frosting. Really, it encapsulates my new and old feelings on tradition awfully well—traditions do have their place, but there’s always room for improvement.

The Best Carrot Cake I’ve Ever Had

Sources: Adapted, barely, from Stella Parks’ Brave Tart

Makes one 6-by-5-inch cake, serving at least 6 people

Active time: ~2 hours; total time: ~3 hours

Note: This might be the best carrot cake I’ve ever had, but fair warning: it’s also the most labor intensive. I highly recommend making this over the course of several days. For example, prepare the custard for the frosting, chop and toast the nuts, grate the carrots, and brown the butter on day 1. Bake the cakes on day 2, and make the frosting and frost the cake on day 3. Make sure to leave time for the finished cake to set up before slicing it, or it will be difficult to cut.

One More Note: I call to make this in three 6-inch cake tins. If you don’t have this size pan, you could make a two-layer cake using 8-inch cake tins or a one-layer cake in a 9×13-inch baking dish.

Cream Cheese Frosting Ingredients:

• 3/4 cup milk, any percentage
• 1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon sugar
• 2 1/2 tablespoons cornstarch
• 1 1/2 eggs (to get a half egg, crack one into a small bowl, whisk, and measure out roughly half)
• 1/2 tablespoon vanilla extract
• 8 ounces cream cheese (I used Neufchatel)
• 1 1/2 sticks butter, softened but still cool (I used salted butter)
• 1 tablespoon lemon juice
• Salt, to taste

Carrot Cake Ingredients:

• 1 3/4 cups walnuts or pecans (optional)
• 1 pound carrots
• 2 sticks butter (I used salted butter)
• 1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/2 cup whole-wheat flour
• 1 cup white sugar
• 1/2 cup gently packed brown sugar
• 1/2 tablespoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
• 2 teaspoons ground ginger
• 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• 1/2 teaspoon ground coves
• 1/2 tablespoon vanilla
• 3 eggs (no need for them to be at room temperature)

Directions:

• Make the custard for the frosting: Put the milk in a small glass bowl or measuring cup and heat it in the microwave at 50% power until it’s warm, but not boiling. In a separate, medium-sized bowl, whisk together the sugar, cornstarch, and eggs.
• Pour about one-third of the warm milk into the egg mixture, whisking well, and repeating twice more. Scrap the custard into a medium pot and cook over medium heat, whisking constantly. The custard will change texture quite suddenly, going from fairly loose to thick and a bit lumpy. Keep whisking, and keep cooking the custard for another two minutes or so. At this point, it should be very thick and quite smooth.
• Remove the custard from the heat. After it’s had a chance to cool a bit, stir in the vanilla extract.
• At this point, you can cover the custard—pressing plastic wrap onto its surface so that it doesn’t form a skin—and refrigerate it for a few days.
• Prepare the nuts: Finely chop the nuts and then add them to a skillet set over medium heat. Toast the nuts until they’re golden brown and fragrant. This will likely take 5–10 minutes. Remove the nuts from the skillet and set them aside.
• Prepare the carrots: Wash, trim, and peel the carrots. Grate them with a box grater or in a food processor, then set them aside.
• Brown the butter: Place the butter in a medium saucepan over medium-low heat. Let the butter melt before increasing the heat to medium. Swirl the pan regularly or stir it with a spatula to ensure the butter browns evenly. Continue swirling or stirring until the butter is clear, golden yellow, studded with little brown bits, and smells toasty and delicious.
• Note: If the heat under your pan is too high, the butter might start to foam up, making it difficult to see what color it is. Reduce the heat or even take the pan off the stove for a few minutes to let the foam subside before proceeding.
• Make the cakes: Position a rack in the middle of your oven before preheating it to 350°F.
• Do your future self a favor by preparing your cake tins now. Grease them well, with either cooking spray or butter, and line the bottoms with parchment paper. Yes, you really should do this—after all, you’re spending quite a bit of time making the best carrot cake ever, is this really the time to skimp on preparation?
• Stir together the flours in a medium bowl, then set it aside.
• Stir together the sugars, leavening agents, salt, and spices in a large bowl; this can either be the bowl of your standing mixer or any large bowl you happen to have. Add the vanilla and eggs and beat the heck out of the mixture with whatever you’ve got—standing mixer, hand mixer, bulging biceps—on medium speed for five minutes (yes, really). The mixture should be light in color and fluffy yet thick. Use a spatula to scrape down the sides and bottom of the bowl.
• If you have a standing mixer that allows you to be hands free, add the butter in a slow stream, beating into the egg-and-sugar mixture on medium-low speed. If you aren’t using a stand mixer, add the butter in three additions, stirring to combine after each addition. Once you’re done, give the sides and bottom of the bowl another good scrape down.
• Go ahead and add the flours, mixing well to incorporate. Fold in the carrots and nuts. It’ll look like there’s too much of them, but trust me—they’ll all fit, and it will be delicious. You guessed it: give the bowl a final good scrape down.
• Pat yourself on the bake for having remembered to prep your pans and preheat your oven ahead of time. You’re awesome!
• Divide the batter evenly between your pans. If you have a kitchen scale, you can be precise about this, but otherwise just eyeball it. The cake will still taste just as good. Smooth the batter in each pan, then pop them all into the oven.
• Bake until the cakes are golden brown and a cake tester inserted into the middle of each cake comes out with just a few crumbs clinging to it. This was about 45 minutes for me, but I suggest checking your cakes around minute 40, to make sure they don’t overbake.
• When the cakes are done, remove them from the oven. Let them cool in the tins for a bit before turning them out onto a wire cooling rack, removing the parchment rounds from their bottoms, and turning them right-side up again. After they cool, you can frost them or wrap them well in plastic wrap and frost them the next day.
• Make the frosting: Several hours before you plan to make the frosting, take the custard, cream cheese, and butter out of your refrigerator and set them on the counter to soften.
• Once they’re softened but still cool, congratulate your past self for remembering to have taken out your ingredients ahead of time. If you forgot or are short on time, give the butter and cream cheese a few short blasts in the microwave on 40% power (do this separately, as they have different melting points) to soften them up. Still give yourself a pat on the back because hey, you’re baking the best carrot cake ever.
• Stir the vanilla custard well. If it’s very thick, mash it up with the back of a spoon and give it a good stir.
• Put the butter and cream cheese in a large bowl—again, either of your stand mixer or any large bowl. Cream them together using a stand mixer, hand mixer, or your own power until they’re light and fluffy—this should take about five minutes.
• Add about one-third of the custard to the butter-and-cream cheese mixture and beat well to combine. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and repeat with the remaining custard in two additions.
• Add the lemon juice and mix well. Give your frosting a taste. If it could use a little more pizzazz, add a bit of extra lemon juice and/or a touch of salt. Repeat tasting and flavor adjusting as needed.
• All together now: Your cakes likely domed a bit while baking, so set one on a level surface and use a serrated knife to carefully cut off the dome and create a flat top. Repeat with the remaining two cakes. Pick up one cake at a time and brush any stray crumbs from the sides or top; this will help ensure that your frosting is smooth and bump-free.
• Set one of the cakes on a plate or cake decorating turntable, then dollop on a good amount of frosting. Use an offset spatula or even a butter knife to work the frosting from the middle of the cake to the edges. Add the second cake layer. If you have time, you could let this sit in the refrigerator, to ensure your cake is straight and strong.
• Add a dollop of frosting to the second layer, and again work it from the middle of the cake to the edges. Add the third layer and repeat.
• At this point you have three options: leave the cake as-is for a “naked” look, add a small amount of frosting around the sides for “semi-naked,” as I have shown, or fully frost that sucker, because it’s spring and a pandemic and YOLO.
• If you’re going with either the semi-naked or fully dressed version, scoop up a tablespoon or so of frosting onto your spatula or knife. I prefer to start at the bottom of my cake and move up, so I spread the frosting on the seam between layers and turn the plate around slowly, working the frosting around the cake, adding more to my knife as I go. If you need detailed frosting instructions, I recommend this guide.
• Once the cake is frosted, set it to chill in the refrigerator for at least an hour. If it’s going to be several hours before you cut and eat the cake, consider draping it loosely with plastic wrap. When it’s chilled, cut with a serrated knife and enjoy.

I started a new job last Monday, and it’s changed everything. All the comfortable rhythms I’d established during my fall sabbatical were obliterated the second my alarm clock went off that first morning. I’m negotiating a lot of change, and even when changes are positive, they still require some adjustments. The biggest change, of course, is time—where I used to have hours free for kitchen experiments, I suddenly need to squeeze my cooking into little windows of time throughout the week. I’m making it work because I have to, because baking and cooking are how I process the world (Exhibit A, baking bread for bravery. Exhibit B, making cookies while waiting). I might look like I’m separating eggs for a custard, but chances are good that some little corner of my mind is also puzzling over a challenge and how I want to respond to it. For me, busy hands lend themselves to a calm mind and give me a chance to think things through.

Rather than rushing to make this ice cream in a single day, I figured out how to adjust it to my new schedule. I put the ice cream bowl in the freezer and make the custard one evening; churn and layer the ice cream the following day. It’s a different pace than the one I’d developed, but no less a good one. And somewhere along the way, as I whisk the custard or crumble the cookies, I find that I’m thinking less about change, and more appreciating the time in the kitchen that I do have. From a distance, it might almost look like I were unflappable.

Lemon Bar Ice Cream

Source: I Thought There Would Be Free Food

Makes ~2 quarts

Active time: ~1 hour; total time: at least 6 hours, the majority of which is chilling

Note: If making ice cream from scratch is too difficult or time-consuming, you can use store-bought ice cream instead, and significantly cut down on the total time. Let 1–1 1/2 quarts of store-bought vanilla ice cream (my favorite is Breyer’s Natural Vanilla) soften on your counter while you crush the cookies and prepare the lemon curd, then mix in the lemon zest and proceed with layering as directed below.

Ice Cream Base Ingredients:

• 2 cups heavy cream
• 2 cups whole milk
• 6 egg yolks
• 3/4 cup sugar
• 1 pinch of salt
• 1 tablespoon vanilla extract (I use Singing Dog Vanilla’s Double Fold Vanilla Extract, and it is worth every penny)
• Zest of two lemons

Lemon Bar Mix-In Ingredients:

• 7 1/4 ounces shortbread cookies; I used 1 bag of Pepperidge Farm Chessmen
• 10 ounces lemon curd
• Juice of 2 lemons

Directions:

• The day before you plan to make the ice cream, put the bowl in the freezer.
• The next day, pour the cream and milk into a heavy-bottomed pot and bring the mixture to a boil over medium heat. Meanwhile, whisk together the egg yolks, sugar, and a pinch of salt in a medium bowl.
• When the cream and milk are at a boil, turn off the heat and whisk one-third of the mixture into the egg yolks, whisking vigorously as you do so. Slowly add the rest of the cream and milk to the yolks, whisking all the way.
• Pour the mixture back into your saucepan and heat over medium. Keep stirring, or you could end up with little curds in your custard, and no one wants that.
• There are two ways to test whether your custard is done. Dip a spoon or spatula into it and then run your finger through the custard; your finger should leave a clear trail with no custard running into the track. Alternatively, take your custard’s temperature: it should be between 170–180°F.
• Remove the custard from the heat and pour it into a clean bowl. Let it cool for several minutes before stirring in the vanilla. Cover the custard by pressing a piece of plastic wrap directly onto its surface and refrigerate until cold. The custard will be fine in the refrigerator for a day or two, if you want to spread out the work load.
• Once the ice cream bowl and custard are cold, churn the custard per your machine’s directions. My custard took ~20 minutes to reach peak height and frostiness. Stir in the lemon zest.
• While the custard is churning, crush your shortbread into bite-sized chunks. You’ll want a mix of smaller and larger pieces.
• Spoon the lemon curd into a small bowl. Give it a taste—how sweet is it? You’ll want it to be quite tart so that the flavor will carry through the richness of the ice cream, as well as thin enough to spread. Heat the lemon curd gently in the microwave, at short bursts on low speed, or in a double boiler.
• Once it’s warm, stir in lemon juice to taste. I used the juice of two lemons, but you may want more or less depending on how much tartness you enjoy.
• Spread one-quarter of your ice cream into a large, freezer-proof container (I used a two-quart Tupperware). Top with one-third of the cookie pieces, then one-third of the lemon curd. Repeat as required, ending with a layer of ice cream. Cover the container and return to the freezer to firm up before enjoying.

If you celebrate any of the many holidays observed this month, or observe people who do, you’ve probably noticed how busy many of them appear. The holiday season seems to be a whirl of endless party going, food making and eating, and shopping.

It is a time for doing, and in some respects I’ve been no exception to that rule, dashing about buying presents and writing cards and preparing our flat to be shut up while we travel. And yet, amidst all this activity, I also find myself in a season of waiting. There is a possibility out there, and I am waiting for it to come to fruition, or not. I am waiting for a yes or a no, and I expect it every minute. 

I’m not particularly good at waiting. If ever there was an action-oriented person, it is me; I will push tirelessly and unceasingly, from every conceivable angle, to try to bring about a desired event before I will sit down and wait for the outcome. Given that, it’s almost torturous for me to find myself in a situation that I cannot influence, where there is no action for me to take. There is nothing I can do to bring about the end of my waiting, so I’ve been trying to distract myself, arranging coffee dates with friends and running errands. Still, I’m left with more time than I know what to do with. I need something to occupy my hands, something just technical enough to also occupy my brain, and so I bake. I set the butter out to soften while I go for a run, trying to burn off nervous energy. I put on Christmas carols as I measure and mix the ingredients, humming along as I roll and cut and bake and decorate. For me, the minutes slide by more easily in the kitchen. Baking is a form of meditation, the end product a manifestation of my active waiting.

These cookies are just demanding enough to take your attention off whatever you might be waiting for and demand you stay firmly rooted in the present. The tahini makes them rich, almost shortbready, and leaves just a touch of bitterness that the sweet white chocolate-rose ganache tempers. Bitter and sweet: a perfect representation of waiting during the holiday season.

Tahini Sugar Cookies With White Chocolate-Rose Ganache 

Sources: Tahini sugar cookies inspired by Eat Cho Food; white chocolate-rose ganache from Honey & Co

Makes ~5 dozen cookies of various sizes 

Total time: ~2 hours

Tahini Sugar Cookie Ingredients:

• 1 cup butter (2 sticks), softened
• 3 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 cup white sugar
• 1 egg
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 1 cup tahini

White Chocolate-Rose Ganache Ingredients:

• 9 ounces white chocolate
• 3 1/2 ounces heavy cream
• 2–3 teaspoons rose water extract
• Dried rose petals for decoration (optional)

Directions:

• Make the cookies: Preheat your oven to 350°F. If you’re a think-in-advance type, set the butter out several hours before you plan to bake. If you’re more of an impulse baker, zap the butter in the microwave in 10–15 second bursts at 50% power until just softened. While the butter is softening, mix the dry ingredients together in a medium bowl and then set it aside.
• Put the butter in a large bowl or standmixer and add the sugar. Using an electric hand mixer or standmixer, cream the mixture until it is light and fluffy, about 3–5 minutes. Add the egg and vanilla, beating to incorporate, and then add the tahini. Beat again to combine.
• Add the dry ingredients in three additions, beating well to incorporate and ensuring no streaks or dry pockets remain at the bottom of the bowl.
• Once your dough is ready, use your hands to compress it into three or four large balls. Working with one ball of dough at a time, roll the dough out on a well-floured surface to ~1/4 inch thickness. Use your cookie cutters of choice to cut out a variety of shapes and sizes.
• Note: The amount of tahini in this recipe gives the cookies excellent flavor and texture, but also makes the dough a bit crumbly, so be patient and go slowly as you roll it out. You can reserve scraps to re-roll, but don’t do this too many times, or the additional flour will change the texture of the dough. It’ll still be delicious, but not quite as crumbly delicious.
• Place the cookies on a parchment paper-lined cookie sheet and bake the cookies for ~10 minutes, rotating the sheets from side-to-side and top-to-bottom at the halfway point. 
• Take your cookies out of the oven when they’re set and just beginning to bronze. Let them sit for 2 minutes before transferring to a wire rack to cool.
• Make the ganache: While the cookies bake and cool, combine the white chocolate and cream in the top of a double boiler, then set on top and bring the water to a simmer. Warm the chocolate/cream mixture until the white chocolate melts, stirring to evenly distribute the heat and ensure the chocolate melts. 
• Once your mixture is melted and homogeneous, remove from heat and stir in the rose water extract. Start with two teaspoons, and taste; feel free to add more as desired (I preferred the higher amount).
• Decorate the cookies: Use a small spoon to dish up some of the ganache and spread it on top of the cookies, then scatter dried rose petals across them to decorate. Let the ganache dry completely, which may take several hours, before stacking, packing, or eating the cookies.