Sniffy Advent: Day, the fourth

Christmas cakesniffing
It isn't everyone's cup of tea (or slice of cake), but the Christmas cake is one of the things I've always enjoyed most about the festive period. You know you've only got about 30 sleeps till Father Christmas comes when you make your Christmas cake.

For as long as I can remember, we've always used the same recipe for the Sniffy cake; I can recall those Friday evenings of my childhood, sometime in late November or early December when mum would busy herself in the kitchen, up to her elbows in stickiness. As the evening wore on, the aroma of warm fruitcake and cooking treacle drifted from the oven and filled the house, as if announcing "It's Christmas!".

For the following weeks, up until about a week before Christmas when it got entombed in royal icing, I'd be in charge of supervising the spiking the cake with rum or brandy. It was a huge responsibility ensuring that Mother didn't forget.

Since last year, when I decided to resurrect that old Farmhouse Kitchen recipe, the baking of the Christmas cake has become a joint effort: Mum does the mithering, while I do the shouting. Somehow, we get a decent cake as the end product , which is a jolly good job considering the effort and the cost of the ingredients. But in an age when it's so easy to go and buy one of these things, and let's face it, the quality of the ones the supermarkets is excellent (not including Asda, obviously), there's something good and wholesome about making one.

Today was the Sniffy Christmas cake baking day. The main argument centred on Mother's lining of the cake tin, which needs to be double lined with greased foil and greaseproof paper. She made a bit of a cack-handed hash of it and I, at my petulant best, told her it was a complete abortion and that it was going to be shit. But this is the result of our combined efforts:

See how Connie didn't manage to fit the foil and the paper snuggly to the inside of the tin and how the cake has not filled the shape because of this restriction? An ABORTION! That's what that is!

Still, it'll probably be OK once it's been trimmed down and encased in marzipan and icing. Especially if I manage to sneak a fair bit of booze into it. Not too much, obviously. I don't want to be getting tipsy and then falling off the wagon in spectacular fashion; finding myself running around the house, eating the entire cake and raiding the booze cupboard for sherry and leftover rum.

The recipe? Go on then:

Stuff

• 225g butter
• 225g soft brown sugar
• Grated rind and juice of 1 lemon
• 255g strong bread flour
• 1 level tsp baking powder
• 1 level tsp mixed spice
• A little grated nutmeg
• Pinch of salt
• 225g currants
• 225g sultanas
• 225g raisins
• 113g cherries
• 113g candied peel
• 55g chopped whole almonds
• 55g ground almonds
• 5 eggs
• 1tbsp dark treacle
• Slosh of brandy or dark rum - optional (my arse optional, get it in there!)
  

NB, you can put all the dried fruit into a bowl and soak overnight in a good slosh of booze too. You know, if you think it might taste nice.

Making it

1. Line an 8 inch square or 9 inch diameter round cake tin with a layer of foil and a layer of greaseproof paper, lightly greased on both sides (a 7 inch diameter round tin is fine). ABORTION ALERT! Allow both foil and greaseproof paper to extend above the sides of the tin by about 1½ inches. Tie a double thickness of brown paper round the outside (I cut an A4 manila envelope in half along its length and tied the two pieces around).
2. Preheat the oven to 160°C/Gas 3.
3. Cream together the butter, sugar, treacle & lemon rind. (This really hurts your arm)
4. Sift the flour, baking powder, spice, nutmeg & salt. Add the fruit and the ground and chopped almonds.
5. Beat the eggs until frothy. (Beat your mother)
6. Add half the beaten egg and 4tbsp of the flour and fruit mixture to the creamed butter mix, beat in.
7. Add the remaining egg and the rest of the dry ingredients, gradually mixing in the strained lemon juice (if using brandy or rum, add it to the lemon juice). Do not beat, but mix thoroughly.
8. Spoon the mixture into the tin.
9. Place the tin in the oven in the centre of the oven and immediately reduce the heat to 150°C/Gas 2. Bake for 1½ hours. Over the next half hour, gradually reduce the heat to 135°C/Gas 1. If, at this stage, the cake is browning too quickly, cover loosely with foil. Total cooking time should be about 3 ½ hours, or until the cake is firm with no sticky residue on the poky stick. Leave the cake in the tin to cool.
10. Next day, remove the cake from the tin and wrap it in foil for storage (if you have the strength: this ain't no light sponge cake and it weighs a fucking tonne!). It should keep for several months.