The magical, heavenly scent of baked cakes brings back childhood memories and cherished traditions of Christmastide.
By Mary Beth Strickler
Into my early adulthood, my siblings and I shared the joke that there was only one of my mother’s fruitcakes which was saved and shared from year to year. Then I matured and developed a new appreciation not just for the taste of it but for the process of preparing and making it. For so many years, mom and her neighbor picked a day in early November to spend together and bake these special treats for their loved ones. The recipe they used, and my mother continues to use, has been marked in pencil and adjusted based on experience and specific tastes (gluten-free flour option for me). There’s hesitation in sharing the recipe, not soley because she enjoys making them but because there is inherent skill through her years of baking. She spends countless hours gathering all the ingredients, then chopping and soaking the candied fruit in its boozy concoction hours before she sifts, measures, and combines the flour, sugar, butter, eggs, spices, candied fruits, and nuts. The loaf baking process creates a divine aroma that feels like being enveloped in a warm blanket on a cold day. Then the anticipation of awaiting the day, weeks after baking, for the fruit cakes to be cured and ready to enjoy.
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