Hey, how about a distraction for a week?

If you’re like me, your relationship with carrots goes kinda like this: you think “I need some carrots for something, and carrots are healthy, so what the hell, I’ll buy the five pound bag of baby carrots from Costco,” and then you use about a cup of carrots and a month or two later, you notice that you’ve got four and three-quarters pounds of decaying carrot-like material in the back of the crisper drawer.

Being a lowish carb root vegetable, carrots are high on my “Figure out something to do with these” list. It’s standard procedure now if I’m making mashed potatoes from scratch to replace some of the potatoes with carrots to reduce the glycemic load (I will also add sauteed kale and bacon if it is convenient, because kale is healthy and bacon is delicious). But I never quite manage to come up with enough things to do with carrots to make it through the big bag in the lifetime of said bag. Only celery is worse.

This one kinda disassembled itself as I decanted it onto a cutting board.

As you may know from other things I’ve said and recipes I’ve posted that I’m always on the lookout for a few different things to help meet the dietary needs of me and my family: meatless entrees, savory side dishes, and low(er)-carb options. I mean, if I could actually get my kids to eat some of this stuff, that’d be nice too, but who am I kidding? Last night, Evie told me that it couldn’t be bedtimes because she hadn’t had dinner yet. I had to explain to her that just because she hadn’t eaten any of the things she asked for, it still counted as dinner.

So in an intersecting storyline, a year or two ago, I was reading the news, and there was an article which made a passing reference to the World Carrot Museum (warning: ’90s web design), along with an affirmation that, yes, it was a real thing which really exists. After a week or so of learning way more than any mortal should about the history of carrots, I came to the Carrot Museum’s pages on the role of carrots in World War II, wherefrom we get the old and largely apocryphal notion of carrots granting improved night vision (Yes, carrots contain vitamin A, a deficiency of which will hurt your vision. But more importantly, during wartime, the British had a lot of carrots and not a lot of anything else, except they also had radar. Which they didn’t want getting out, so it was expedient to start a public campaign of telling people to eat more carrots on the pretext that it was a carrot-rich diet, rather than secret military technology, that gave the RAF their plane-spotting skills). And mixed in among the anecdotes about night-vision and carrot-themed Disney mascots intended to get children to eat more of the comparatively abundant root vegetables (Hey kids, do you love England and hate joy? Then how about instead of candy, you eat a carrot dipped in treacle? No wonder kids were willing to betray their siblings and Lion Jesus in exchange for a chunk of snot dusted with powdered sugar), I found a recipe for a savory carrot pudding.

Well that sounded like fun. When I went back later, I couldn’t find the exact recipe I was starting with, but I did find an entire page of various recipes for carrot pudding. So I improvised. I’d have been improvising anyway, since I have no idea where you get suet in 2018, and also, suet is super gross and I’ve never even thought of it as a foodstuff, just something dad would buy in the winter to mix with birdseed and roll pinecones in to make bird feeders (Modern humans use peanut butter for this task. Dad is old). Based on the breadth of recipes just on the Carrot Museum site, though, it’s a pretty flexible recipe at the conceptual level, so you can pretty much just wing it and it’ll be all right.

Whatever you’re expecting this pudding to be like, you’re probably wrong. This isn’t a custardy emulsified milk-based dessert, which probably comes as a relief to you, since making that out of carrots sounds gross. From a culinary standpoint, it’s much more similar to, say, an old fashioned British Christmas Pudding. But it’s savory, not sweet (as is. The last time I made this, Leah said she wished I’d made it sweeter). The closest thing I can imagine in American cuisine would probably be spoonbread. And while I can’t make my children eat it, I think it works in any situation where you might otherwise serve rice or mashed potatoes or especially stuffing — it ends up tasting pretty much like a very smooth, unusually carroty bread stuffing, though the mouthfeel is quite different. That’s a big factor in me having made it multiple times despite the fact that my family isn’t really into it. I love stuffing, but I don’t eat it so much as I’d like to because of the carbohydrates.

So if, like me, you find yourself with a couple of pounds of carrots that you need to get rid of in a hurry and way more cooking time than is reasonable, you might like to try this one out. When making this recipe, I usually approach it like something out of a medieval cookbook, where exact weights and measures aren’t so much a thing, and quantities are given in units of “plenty” and “sufficient”, temperatures are given in “hot” and “very hot”, and cook times are, “Until ye thinke it be enuf.” But for the sake of this article, I’ll try to be more concrete.

 

Ingredients:

  • 2 lbs carrots
  • 2-4 cups breadcrumbs
    • The recipe I started with called for a roughly equal volume of breadcrumbs and carrots. After trying that, I think I lean more toward about a 4:3 ratio of carrot to breadcrumb, though either way is fine
  • 1½ tbsp unsalted butter, softened
  • 1 tbsp vegetable shortening
    • I started out using all shortening instead of mixing shortening and butter, working from the idea that shortening was basically a direct substitute for suet. I think, based on an episode of Good Eats that the shortening had some influence in the final product being more cakey, which I liked, but the butter adds a lot more flavor, which I liked better. Also, we use shortening very infrequently in my house, so I didn’t want to open a new container of it. This is also way less fat than the comparable recipes from the Carrot Museum, but it seemed to turn out okay.
  • 2 large eggs
  • ¼ cup heavy cream (optional)
  • Additional things as desired (see below)

Cook the carrots to softness. I’ve tried boiling them, but it was tricky to boil carrots for the length of time I needed to get them properly mushy; kept running out of water and having them burn to the bottom of the pot. Cooking them in the electric steamer for about 80 minutes was an easier way to go. Reduce the carrots to mush in the food processor.

In a large bowl, add breadcrumbs, butter and shortening to the carrots. After about 2 cups of breadcrumbs, mix in the eggs, then add more breadcrumbs until you have a roughly mashed potato consistency. Mix in the cream if you like.

From here, it’s kinda up to you. If your breadcrumbs were of the seasoned variety, you can just proceed onward from here and be done if you like. I like to add onion and sage and thyme at this point. Last time, I had a bunch of diced onions and peppers left over from taco night, so I tossed those in and it worked out well. If you want something more desserty, you could mix in raisins. I bet some honey would work. If you happened to have sofrito or mirepoix or trinity already cooked up, definitely toss that in. I’m currently curious how some diced water chestnuts would work.

Next step is to cook it. And here, I’m not sure and will fall back on “Until ye thinke it be enuf.” Originally, I tried a straight conversion of the source recipe, but the results didn’t seem cooked. Based on tradition, I steam mine. Spray down a sheet of parchment paper with baking spray and turn the carrot mixture out onto it. Form it into a loaf, wrap the paper around it to prevent leakage, and toss it back in the electric steamer until it firms up. Usually takes about two hours. I’m not sure how sensitive it is to direct heat; I’ve reheated one in the oven at 350º sans parchment in a glass casserole dish and it came out fine, developing a pleasant crust on top. But I’m not sure it would work out if you tried to cook it all the way; it might dry out too much during cooking. Maybe cook it most of the way in the steamer, then finish it in the oven. When it’s all the way cooked, it should hold its shape without being hard. It’ll be bready rather than gelatinous, of a similar consistency to bread pudding. You can just go at it with a spoon, but I like the presentation of cutting it into wedges.

If you like it, let me know. Heck, if you don’t like it, let me know. If you know some secret of cooking and can identify something I’m doing very obviously wrong, definitely let me know. And happy carrotting.