I discovered a real treasure in my family's archives this Christmas, a recipe for a much maligned part of anglo culture, the Candied Fruit Cake. Yes that poor, innocent cake known to be the butt of jokes, made its way into my heart this holiday season. Family Christmas stories in our house inevitably include the process of our mother making her famous fruit cake. Always well received among my parents friends, the common refrain was "not like any other" and "delicious." It was a production that began on Thanksgiving weekend and lasted until the week before Christmas. Mother would hoist an enamel coated iron skillet onto the stove and turned the heat up to medium high to begin the process of making candied fruit. Once those cured over the next few days, she would add the other ingredients, then poured the batter into pans and they were baked. She wrapped them in brandy soaked cheesecloth and foil. Some were entombed in a decorative tin. They waited in a cool dark closet and were occasionally drenched with more booze.
As we breakfasted on a recent Sunday morning, my family exchanged remembrances on the process of fruitcake making. My brother remembered the chop-o-matic that was used to pulverized the pecans. I remembered my brothers shelling pecans and me sampling the candied fruit. Dad remembered the peach brandy and that it was dates, not raisins used in the recipe. This recipe is a bit of a mystery to us since my mother died suddenly 23 years ago without so much as goodbye.
I have to admit that I never liked the end product as a kid, but this year something inside me wanted to try my hand at making "the" fruit cake. I thought I'd seen the recipe in a box of old pictures, but I couldn't find it anywhere. After a couple hour search, I called my aunt to see if she had it. My mother and she were inlaws, but had a close friendship so it was worth a try. The next day she called to say she had found it after a 2 hour search. It was hand written by my aunt, and obviously dictated in conversation by my mother. So I began the process of buying the ingredients and readying the kitchen. It wasn't a walk in her shoes I was after, but rather to experience the flavor of this cake with an adult palette to see why others found it so tasty. This was a scientific experiment with an emotional attachment. I candied the cherries and pineapple with great success. Next, came the mixing of the fruit and the chopped dates, and then the flour with baking powder and salt mixed in. All this is done with your hands. 4 eggs are beat until frothy and a cup of sugar added. The final ingredient was 2 pounds of chopped pecans. I thought it was a typo, so I added one pound at a time. It wasn't a typo and the pecans rounded out the dough perfectly. That was it, no lemon peel, no spices, no weird looking stuff from a package. The batter smelled great, a very good sign. Now I had to get the batter into the pans. I forgot to mention the process of cutting parchment paper to fit the tiny loaf pans (7 of them) and buttering both sides. It was easy, just time consuming. The batter is packed into the pan and is a sticky mess if not handled properly. I had plenty of shortening on hand and wax paper on my hand to push it in. The oven was ready at 275 degrees as I slid my little cakes in. I made a trip to the liquor store for the peach brandy in the hour and a half that was needed to cook them and still had time to spare. I returned to find the most wonderful scent in the house and though they didn't rise much, a bevy of beautiful cakes. I sprinkled them with peach brandy and sliced off a trial piece. The cake was delicious, more banana breadish than cake though and totally addictive. Friends stop by and with encouragement on my part, sampled the cake with the lousy reputation. Everyone gave it the thumbs up and with the back story, who couldn't? Over the week before Christmas, the cakes softened a bit from its booze bath and mellowed into a fine tasting treat. I suprised my dad with a framed copy of the recipe and two cakes to take home. We all tried it at breakfast. My father said he didn't think he would ever taste this fruit cake again in his lifetime. I was pleased with the journey and felt the end product was worth the trip. I think comedians need to find a new Christmas joke, fruit cake has gotten a bad rap.
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