carrot cake balls

What’s a better post for queer in the kitchen than a baking recipe that contains key elements to gay culture: fragile emotions, dramatic overreaction, and balls… Well, cake balls!

My boss occasionally lets me leave early on Mondays if we’re slow at work. Let me also mention that my boss has a SERIOUS sweet tooth. Thus, early on I decided the best way to suck up AND simultaneously condition my boss to let me leave early Mondays, would be to show up Tuesday morning with a homemade baked good.

I was off early and was determined to bake a beautiful layered carrot cake that would keep me in his good graces as he rode out his cream cheese frosting sugar high.

   

   

I’m just gonna say it: grating carrots is the WORST thing ever, but totally worth the effort. Now, some people use a food processor, but I believe they don’t come out as uniform or finely grated for that matter. I mean, would Ina Garten stoop to using a food processor to grate her carrots? Probably. But I’m NOT.

After all the mixing, measuring, singing of the SMASH soundtrack and inappropriate gesturing with the carrots, I had two 9” cake rounds cooling and ready to be slapped together with delicious honey, cream cheese frosting.

Alas!

My laziness got the best of me and since I did not use precisely measured and cut parchment paper for my cake pans, my carrot cakes Would. Not. Budge. An. Inch.

   

   

I dramatically fell to the kitchen floor and began to cry. Literally. Then, I had a great idea, and decided to make a vodka lemonade with the lemons I had in my tear-soaked lap.

I had two imperfectly good carrot cakes, a mixer full of delicious cream cheese frosting, and a new plan: CAKE BALLS!

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