Carrot Cake Shortbread

Eleanor Dorothy was born on the eleventh of October at six forty-two in the morning, seven pounds four ounces, with a full head of dark hair that Mason says is from his side and Olivia says will probably fall out anyway. She is perfect. I have been saying this about each grandchild in turn and each time I mean it completely and differently — Clara's perfection was fierce and bright-eyed; Henry's was round and placid and somehow ancient; Eleanor's is this particular alert stillness, dark eyes that seem to already be studying the world, a small furrowed brow of a person who is taking everything in and withholding judgment.

Olivia called me from the hospital at seven in the morning and I was on the road by seven forty-five. Gary was working and couldn't get away immediately, but he arrived by afternoon. I spent the first hours in that particular grandmother role: holding the baby so Olivia could sleep, making sure Mason had eaten something, fielding texts from the extended family. I am good at this role. I have discovered that I am actually excellent at the logistics of new life in a way that I was not quite excellent at the logistics of my own children's infancies, when I was younger and more frightened.

I brought food. Of course I brought food. The postpartum meal I've perfected over two deliveries now: a pot of chicken and rice soup that travels well and reheats easily; a container of overnight oats with dates and almonds for nursing; shortbread, because Olivia has loved shortbread since she was Clara's age. Mason opened the shortbread while I was still taking off my coat and ate three pieces standing at the counter and I didn't say a word about it.

Eleanor. The name they chose. I did not tell Olivia that I had dreamed this name months ago. Some things don't need to be explained; it's enough that they're true. Eleanor Dorothy — the Dorothy for Mason's grandmother, which I find beautiful. Eleanor Dorothy Reeves, born into October, third grandchild, second girl, first child to be born in the new chapter of all our lives in this city, this year, this particular unfolding.

I drove home in the October dark with my heart very full and made soup for myself and Gary when I got home, because what else do you do at the end of a day like this. You make soup. You eat it slowly. You let the fullness of it settle.

The shortbread was always going to be part of the bag I brought to the hospital — Olivia has loved it for years, and there is something right about arriving with something sweet and familiar when the world has just expanded by one small, serious-faced person. Mason ate three pieces standing at the counter before I’d even unpacked, which told me everything I needed to know about how the night had gone. This carrot cake shortbread is the version I’ve been making lately: a little warmth from cinnamon and ginger, a little earthiness from the carrot, but still unmistakably a shortbread — buttery and tender and exactly the kind of thing you reach for without thinking when you need something that feels like being taken care of.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 18 min | Total Time: 38 min | Servings: 24 cookies

Ingredients

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
1/2 cup powdered sugar, sifted
1/4 cup finely grated carrot (about 1 medium carrot, squeezed dry)
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup cornstarch
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 tablespoons chopped toasted walnuts or pecans (optional)
Powdered sugar, for dusting (optional)

Instructions

Prepare the carrot. Finely grate the carrot on the smallest holes of a box grater, then wrap in a clean kitchen towel and squeeze out as much moisture as possible. Set aside.
Cream the butter and sugar. In a large bowl, beat the softened butter and powdered sugar together with a hand mixer or stand mixer on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 2—3 minutes. Beat in the vanilla extract.
Add the carrot. Mix in the dried grated carrot until evenly distributed throughout the butter mixture.
Combine dry ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, cornstarch, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and salt. Add to the butter mixture and stir with a wooden spoon or fold with a spatula until a soft dough comes together. Fold in the nuts if using.
Shape and chill. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and shape into a log about 2 inches in diameter, or press into an 8x8-inch pan lined with parchment. Wrap in plastic and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes (or overnight).
Preheat and slice. Preheat the oven to 325°F. If using the log method, slice into 1/4-inch rounds and arrange on parchment-lined baking sheets, spacing about 1 inch apart. If using the pan method, score into rectangles or squares before baking.
Bake. Bake for 16—18 minutes, until the edges are just barely golden and the centers look set but not browned. Do not overbake — shortbread firms as it cools.
Cool and finish. Let cool on the baking sheet for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack. Dust lightly with powdered sugar once fully cooled, if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Carrot Cake Shortbread — The Cookie I Brought to Welcome Eleanor Home