Grandpa Bob’s carrot cake

Teva Harrison’s submission to the Apron Strings Contest has me salivating (or is it just close to lunchtime?). Teva calls herself a “rogue chef”–sounds pretty cool. Thanks for the submission. We salute Grandpa Bob! Be sure to check out the rest of the Apron Strings contest submissions and rate them. The lucky winners will receive gift certificates to shop at Fiesta Farms.


I’m the youngest, so it was a long time before I was allowed to help grate the carrots for Grandpa Bob’s famous carrot cake. I remember watching, fascinated, as the carrots turned into lofty grated haystacks.

Grandpa Bob would always let me steal a little piece of pineapple before it went into the batter, and he’d let me clean up the bowl after he made the yummy cream-cheese frosting. The best part, though, was always the first bite. I watched him bake the cake every time, and there was nothing magical about the recipe or the process, nothing to account for its deliciousness.

These days, I hesitate to eat carrot cake, as it’s always a disappointment against the memory of the special ones Grandpa Bob would bake for us when we visited. And sometimes, even though I know that it won’t be the same, I enjoy a slice because it brings me closer to his memory.

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