Fruitcake Traditions

“There is only one fruitcake in the entire world and people keep passing it around."

Johnny Carson

It was a beautiful sunrise today. A perfect day to make my annual fruitcake, a tradition I have done on a fairly regular basis for about twenty years now.

People love or hate fruitcake. There is no middle ground. For those of you on Team Fruitcake, you are definitely a minority of the general public. There are bakeries that still make them, and there are even a couple of bakeries who bake them year round exclusively, sending them mail order all over the world.

Fruitcake history is rich and dense, just like a perfect fruitcake, whose origin dates back to ancient Rome. It’s reputation for being rock-hard and booze-heavy probably originated in 18th-century Europe. Fruitcakes were made with nuts from the harvest of the current year, but they were not eaten until the harvest of the following year for good luck. Soaking the fruit and/ or the cake itself in booze acts as a preservative. I’ve known a few folks who were also preserved in alcohol.

Once upon a time, Fruitcakes were so rich, they were considered sinful and in the early 18th century were outlawed in Europe. Restrictions eased later in the century. In some jurisdictions, they are not outlawed, but if out to a vote, it could be close.

Today there is no law against them, but there is also not much love in their favour.

Like just about everything, there is good fruitcake and a lot of bad fruitcake. Start with fruit. Food coloured rutabaga is not fruitcake.

My fruitcake is considered by those lucky enough to get any, as one of the best tasting fruitcakes you might ever get to enjoy.

I make the family recipe. When I say family, it is family in the larger sense, like how my Mother’s cousin Doris became our aunt, and her husband Freddie became our uncle.

After the War, Uncle Freddie worked in bakeries until he retired. He was a decorated pilot in the Royal Canadian Air Force. Upon his return to civilian life, he began a career as a baker, first working in Vancouver’s famous Notte’s Bon Ton. The Bon Ton started in 1926, and recently closed, but hopefully will reopen in the spring. Their fruitcake recipe is what I use.

From Montecristo magazine: “It all started with Alan (Notte’s) grandfather, who was born in Italy and trained to be a pastry chef throughout Europe. Upon moving to Canada, he and his brother set up a bakery in Victoria, but after a “falling out,” says Alan, his grandpa moved to Vancouver and set up shop here on lower Granville Street. The recipes that the current Bon Ton still uses were created by Alan’s grandfather, written in Italian and translated to English by his wife. The notebooks holding the original Italian recipes still exist, and are housed safely at the bakery.”

As related to me by my Uncle Freddie, when Freddie worked there, the recipes were kept very secret, with individual bakers responsible only for parts of a recipe. This was confirmed by an ex-employee in the 90’s.

This secrecy was so employees could not figure out the complete recipe. Freddie said the Notte’s spoke French in the shop, and I am guessing from above, Italian. He was able to translate, and figured out the recipe, which is basically an advanced pound cake.

A pound cake got its name from the basic recipe of a pound of flour, a pound of sugar, a pound of butter, and a dozen eggs. That was how the recipe was when he passed it on to me. But I soon figured out by trial and error that 12 eggs were too many. When I weighed the eggs, ten of today’s large eggs equal a pound. Perhaps twelve eggs equaled a pound when he learned the recipe. Were the eggs smaller then? Did they use medium size eggs?

Added to that basic pound cake is fruit and nuts. Five and a half pounds of fruit and nuts. I have tried in some years to make a more “natural” cake, with less glacé fruit, but it was just not right. Dried fruit can be so …..dry, which is why the dried fruit is normally soaked in booze.

One day when he was still alive, my Uncle Freddie called and asked me if I wanted his fruitcake pans. He wasn’t going to make them anymore. I said yes, and drove out to visit with him in White Rock. We went out into the garage, and he pulled out a metal sheet, and four square wooden frames. These were the “pans.” I was instructed to layer 24 sheets of newsprint, and top that with a brown paper bag. Parts of the paper bag was then cut to line the wooden frames.

The frames have had years of baking baked into them. Some of the nails are a bit loose, so I have to press together before adding the batter. The batter is so heavy that it doesn’t seep from under the frames to the newsprint lined pan.

I used to save 12 sheets from the previous year, adding 12 new ones from this year. But actual newspapers are becoming rare and harder to get, as the press is monopolized. This years model was a Sunday New York Times.

Even paper bags are hard to find. Still, paper works better that plastic. Rock beats scissors but paper covers rock.

We moved out to White Rock ourselves in 2005, and stayed for 7 years before coming back to Vancouver. During that time, I visited infrequently with Aunt Doris and Uncle Freddie, and when Doris died, I visited Uncle Freddie in the assisted living. He always would say to my Dad, whose name was also Fred, I’ve changed so much, you probably wouldn’t recognize me. To which my Dad would always say,” Why Freddie, I would recognize you anywhere.”

After my Dad died, I did the same routine with him, when it was my turn. “Why, Uncle Freddie, I would recognize you anywhere.”

His wife Doris was a character, very glamorous, and she and my Mother were closer than sisters, and I loved them both dearly. One time when we visited them when I was a young lad, Doris made a rum chiffon pie, which she proceeded to cut into 4’s!

She did not skimp on the rum either. We tried at ask for a more reasonable size, but she would have none of that. It was some boozy pie.

When my Mother was giving birth to my youngest sister, my next youngest sister and I were spending the night at Doris and Fred’s in Qualicum. Apparently I woke my sister up in the middle of the night, and said, come on, we’re getting out of this place.

At least that was the story. For many years, Fred worked at Woodward’s Bakery, until he retired. He always had the best baking. Sticky buns were my favourite.

My Mother also made fruitcake, both light and dark. Her dark recipe was very good. I should make that one year. She always made Christmas Pudding, which was a carrot pudding with lots of dried fruit and glacé cherries, served with either a brown sugar sauce, or a hard sauce, called hard because of the booze in it. Steamed Christmas Pudding is very rich, but so delicious in my memory. For good luck, we would all have to take our turns stirring it in the wooden bowl. I still have the wooden bowl, which I use for the fruitcakes.

Here they are going into the oven. Two have pecans, and two do not have nuts for my nut-free friends. Two will be brushed with brandy, and two will be brushed with dark rum.

Here they are as they came out of the oven.

Now starts the waiting game. Some say you need to age them. Some also say they last a long time. In my experience, I start cutting one as soon as I believe it will not crumble, which it can do if eaten too early.

Also Freddie advised to eat them before February but as long as they last in my house is early January. That’s if I don’t give them away before then.