On Friday i received an email warning it was a mere THREE MONTHS UNTIL CHRISTMAS. Bloody hell, down-tools everyone and start decking those halls! I’m not going to descend into some 'Christmas starts earlier every year’ rhetoric and although a twelve week warning may on the surface seem a tad melodramatic, some of us do need to start thinking about Christmas sooner rather than later.
Why, i hear you quite reasonably ask? Quite simply anyone keen on home-made, booze–laden crimbo delights (essentially everyone brought up on a heavy diet of Delia Xmas specials) needs a decent stretch of time to get the required volume of brandy into the Christmas cake.
I’m ashamed to admit this year is my first foray into Christmas cake baking. For years I was forced like some child slave labourer to bake and ice the family Yule log, having stupidly made a decent stab at one in Domestic Science at the tender age of 12 (note to pre-teens: never make a good job of anything, you’ll immediately be assigned that task until you’re old enough to flee the County, divorce your parents, or both). I believe it's the lasting memories of this endeavour that's put me off Christmas baking until now. It probably also explains my deep rooted fear of plastic robins and holly leaves.
Note- this is not one of my actual creations, but it's a fair representation of the sort of crap i used to churn out (apologies if by some strange blogging coincidence this is a photo of your Yule log. It's lovely).
Tonight i will be baking RCC’s first ever Christmas cake with help from my Mother. I’m extremely grateful for her assistance; proving once again that no amount of recipe book reading can beat four decades of home baking experience. Yesterday she kindly pointed out at least a dozen things wrong with my Victoria sponge technique. Quite an achievement given there’s less than twelve steps required to make one.
Anyway, i digress – back to the Crimbo bake. We've carefully considered the many available recipes and have opted for Nigella’s ‘How to be a Domestic Goddess’ version, mainly because we could source all the ingredients from the shop at the end of my street.
In preparation, over a kilo of dried fruit is currently marinating in a vat of brandy on the kitchen counter. Max and Eli look a bit worse for wear from breathing in the resulting fumes and I’ve had to open the back door to prevent the entire household passing out in a drunken stupor.
If we manage to keep awake long enough to get the resulting mixture in the oven it will be a miracle. I’ll keep you posted..
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