12 Days of Christmas Baking

On the Twelfth Day of Christmas

I undertook to bake . . .

twelve pecan tassies

eleven mincemeat pinwheels

ten cardamom buttons

nine molasses crinkles

eight oatmeal chewies

seven gingerbread trees

six cranberry loaves

five butter stars

four gingerbread houses

three dozen spritz

a double batch of sugar cookies

and a whole lot of Texas fruitcake!

The first day of Christmas doesn't actually start until the 25th,

but when it comes to Christmas baking, I'm pretty much done by that day. 

I might manage one more batch of mince pies, and maybe another batch of English toffee for my mother-in-law, but all of my baking efforts come in the run-up to the Christmas season.

For weeks now, my kitchen has resembled an amateur bakery . . . and feel free to call me crazy, because all of my friends (and my husband) do.

I suppose we all have our favourite Christmas traditions -- the ones that make us feel cosy, and put us into the seasonal spirit -- and for me, it is all about a warm kitchen and the alchemy of flour and sugar.  I'm sure it goes back to my childhood, when I spent many happy hours decorating sugar cookies and cutting out gingerbread men with my mother.  These days, some of my best moments come when I'm in the  company of my own children and we are chatting and laughing and listening to Christmas music -- whilst absorbed in our culinary tasks.  I know that I will treasure the memory of the snowy day when my teenaged daughter's social plans were ruined and so we spent a long afternoon making candy:  peanut brittle, English toffee, and a family favorite called "Oklahoma Brown" candy.

It's not that we don't sample the treats, but when it comes to Christmas baking, I definitely prefer to give . . . rather than to keep it all in the family.  I make cookies platters for friends and teachers, and no one can enter my house without me breaking out the fruitcake and making little gift bags to take home.

This year will go down as the "Fruitcake Christmas."  I dug up an old recipe that my grandparents used to love:  they called it Fort Worth fruitcake, and my mom told me that the recipe was an annual request in the Fort Worth, Texas newspaper.  I've made a few changes in the original recipe . . . you know that saying that necessity is the mother of invention? . . . and so I've called it Texas Fruitcake.  Unlike the English versions of fruitcake, it doesn't have raisins, currants or mixed peel.  Instead you get lots of moist dates and apricots, and plenty of pecans -- which are a major crop in Texas.  I've tested this recipe on ALL sorts of people this Christmas, and everyone seems to love it.  I've become a victim of my own success, though -- and I keep on having to make more of the stuff because I will insist on giving it away.  I've made at least 20 loaves of it, maybe more; I lost track a long time ago. 

Texas Fruitcake

Ingredients:

1 pound of stoned and chopped dates

1/2 pound candied cherries

1/2 pound chopped apricots

1 pound of pecans, coarsely chopped

1 cup of sugar

1 cup of flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

1 teaspoon vanilla

4 eggs

Method:

This recipe will make either one large angel food tube pan, two medium loaves, or four small loaves.  The cooking times are more or less the same for all of them -- two hours, taking away about ten minutes if you use the small loaf pans.  Prepare all of the pans by using a bit of butter or shortening and then lining with parchment paper.

Cut fruit and nuts into small pieces and put into a large bowl.  Note:  If you cut them by hand you will have more quality control, but you may also use the food processor -- except for the cherries which really need to be cut up by hand.  Be careful with the dates, too -- as they can easily turn to mush.

Sift the dry ingredients together and mix with the fruit and nuts -- using a wooden spoon. 

Beat the eggs and vanilla together and pour the liquid mixture over the fruit/four mix.

Mix very well -- with a wooden spoon, or even with your hands.

Pack the mixture into the prepared pans.

Bake at a very low oven -- 250 F/125 C for approximately two hours.

Cool the cake in the pan, and then remove and wrap well in cling film.

Some commentary:  When it is fresh out of the oven, this cake is absolutely delicious.  You may treat it like a traditional fruitcake though, and "feed" it with brandy (sherry, rum, whatever) for several months or weeks before eating.  It will get darker with age, and the flavour and texture will change -- but both versions are great.  Yesterday, we had friends over for mince pies and mulled wine and I cut into a loaf that I've been "steeping" for almost two months now.  (Sadly, there isn't a trace of it left now.) 

If forced to choose, though, I would probably opt for the non-alcoholic version -- which is great for afternoon tea or even breakfast-on-the-run.  At the beginning of the week, I had to catch an early train to London and I brought along several slices to share with a friend for our commuter breakfast.  She was begging me for the recipe . . . really, it's that good.

Although it may seem like it's a bit late for fruitcake season, you might as well treat yourself because we still have wintry January and February to get through.

This is really such an easy-peasy recipe, and did you notice?  No butter or other fat in it. 

Perfect for Christmas -- or the upcoming season of austerity.

Happy Christmas baking!

bûche de nöel or how to look good this christmas

last year, about this time, i made a reference to nigella's fabulous bûche de nöel, without sharing the recipe with you. since i spent my morning making a double one to take to sabin's school play this evening and had a chance to photograph the process, i thought i'd share it with you now...just in time for you to look positively heroic this christmas. because this cake is a veritable masterpiece when it's done and it's dead easy. plus it doesn't contain any flour, so even those who live the gluten free life can partake.

as usual, i couldn't leave even the goddess-like perfection of nigella alone and i have made a teency weency adjustment to the recipe.

nigella's bûche de nöel a la julie

the cake:

6 eggs, separated

150g sugar

50g cocoa powder

1 tsp. vanilla extract

3-5 teaspoons of powdered sugar to decorate

the icing:

175g good quality dark chocolate, chopped
250g powered sugar

225g butter

1 T vanilla extract

the extra julie touch:

1/2 liter of cream, whipped

preheat your oven to 180°C/375°F.

whisk the egg whites until they are thick and and beginning to peak, then add 50g of the sugar and keep whisking 'til stiff peaks form. if you're like me, you let your kitchenaid do this bit while you're working on the next part.

whisk the egg yolks and the rest of the sugar until they are a creamy pale yellow, add the vanilla, whisk a bit more, then sieve the cocoa powder in and mix it well.

put a big dollop of the egg white mixture into your chocolatey egg yolks, mixing well, then fold the chocolate mixture carefully into the rest of your egg whites, taking care not to lose too much air.

pour the mixture into a swiss roll tin lined with baking paper. a little trick to keep the baking parchment from rolling up on you while you're trying to pour (seriously, why isn't part of pregnancy the growing of a 3rd arm - wouldn't that be handy?), you can put a little dab of butter in each corner and stick the baking paper to it.

bake for about 20 minutes until it looks done. i realize this sounds vague, but trust me, you'll be able to see when it's done.  remove it from the oven and let it cool very briefly (and i do mean very briefly) before turning it onto a new piece of baking paper and peeling off the baking paper backing.

don't let it get too cool before you do this, or you'll have trouble getting the paper off without taking quite a lot of cake with it. trust me, i've made the mistake so you don't have to.

while it's cooling. melt your chocolate in a double boiler (or in a metal bowl over a pan of boiling water, like i do).

put the powdered sugar down in your food processor and whip it up to get rid of any lumps. then add your softened butter and let the food processor do the work for you. add the vanilla once the butter and sugar are well-mixed.  once the chocolate is melted and cooled down a little bit (so it doesn't melt your butter), add it to the butter/sugar mixture and again, let the food processor do the work for you.

while it's doing the work, let your kitchenaid whip up some cream for you - but do keep an eye on it, you're not making butter here (again, i've made the mistake so you don't have to).

put the cake on a good work surface and spread a thin layer of the chocolate icing on top. on top of that, spread a good layer of whipped cream. it hit me today, when i was a little concerned about not having enough of the chocolate icing (i was making two cakes and doubled the icing recipe, but it didn't look like enough), that you could use the hazelnut goodness of nutella here on the inside, just to add another note to the cake. i did, however, have plenty of icing, so i needn't have worried.

i found the cake too heavy and dense the first time i made it, without the whipped cream, tho' nigella's original recipe doesn't call for it. i find it makes it lighter and more sort of dreamy and delicious.

let the baking paper help you carefully roll the cake up. then carefully cut each end at an angle (strangely, i failed to photograph this bit), so you can place it beside your main "branch" as smaller "branches."

place the cut ends at angles against the main cake - my cake here is actually two cakes, so yours will be half the size of this. spread the remainder of the chocolate icing over the cake, covering and using extra bits to stick your branches on. use a spatula and a toothpick to make it look like the bark of a tree.

dust it with powdered sugar so it looks like new fallen snow and decorate around it with greens and pinecones gathered outdoors.

it may sound a bit fussy, but you'll be amazed how easy it really is.  and your friends and family will never know (unless you tell them). so you can act like you slaved all day and get people to fetch you glasses of wine while you relax.

Holiday left-overs

On December 23rd, my husband and I braved the icy streets of our nearest market town to pick up our turkey and other Christmas feast groceries.  Although the pre-ordered turkey was the biggest size (14 pounds) that could fit into our (fairly small) oven, my husband panicked that it just wouldn't be big enough to feed the 10 of us sitting at the Christmas table.  (What is it about Christmas that makes us all wildly over-cater?)  So we bought a large ham, too.

On December 26th, I had the following left-overs in the refrigerator:  half a 14 pound turkey, two-thirds of large ham, nearly half of a large dish of sausage/walnut/apple/chestnut stuffing, a dish of cranberry relish, brussel sprouts, broccoli and carrots, and a vast tub of gravy.

First day of left-overs: 
Lunch:  turkey sandwiches, of course.  When I was a child, I enjoyed a small slice of turkey on a buttered roll.  Now that I am a larger, more gluttonous person, I realize that the proper turkey sandwich should be this:  a thin layer of mayonnaise, then several slices of turkey, then a generous smear of cranberry sauce, followed by an equally generous wodge of stuffing.  A handful of potato chips on the side. Delicious! 

Dinner:  a lentil soup, made from some sauteed purple onion and garlic cloves, the ham stock, a few bay leaves, the last bits of celery, puy lentils and a few big handfuls of chopped-up ham.

Second day of left-overs:
Lunch:  turkey sandwiches, again.  Four instead of six of us today.  We've eaten all of the good bits now, and the carcass is ready to be boiled for soup . . . (which will be day three of left-overs)

Dinner:  ham and turkey pie, with warmed-up broccoli and carrots on the side. (And also making use of the left-over double cream and the extra leeks that we didn't need)

doesn't that lovely pink and green look Christmassy?

Ham and Turkey Pie

(adapted from a recipe by Angela Hartnett that I saw in The Times.)

Ingredients:

an ounce or two of butter, depending on how many leeks you use (or onions, if you lack leeks)

two chopped leeks (just the nice pale green and white bits; leave off the thick ends)

two tablespoons of flour

a pile of left-over ham and turkey (roughly 500 grams or a pound is necessary, but you can add more)

two big tablespoons of double cream (or more, if you like it really creamy)

approximately 12 ounces of turkey stock (or chicken, if you haven't boiled up your turkey)

some chopped parsley, salt and pepper -- to taste

Method:

Couldn't be easier . . . melt the butter in a large saucepan, and saute the leeks until soft -- but still bright in color.  Add a couple of tablespoons of flour, and stir to thicken.  Slowly add the stock and then the cream -- stirring until smooth.  Let the mixture come to a boil, and then turn down to a simmer.  Add the meat, some chopped parsley, and a grinding of salt (if needed) and pepper. 

Transfer to a pie dish and cover with pastry.  The original recipe called for puff pastry, but I made a simple pastry with these proportions:  two ounces of vegetable shortening, two ounces of butter, 1 1/2 cups of flour, a teaspoon of salt and a few tablespoons of iced water.

Easy-peasy, and why not add peas?  If you have any left-over.

Cranberry Orange Holiday Sweet Bread

This project earned me a guest spot here. Of this I'm proud! It all started one afternoon at a hobby and craft superstore. I'd loaded up on some fabulous yarn and found the sculpting clay on a big discount. I was already a little euphoric when I walked past an end cap of adorable little Christmas-themed personal loaf crocks. I squealed as I kept up the spirited grab-and-growl behavior and filled my arm basket with seven of these little pans. Why seven? I have no idea. Yes, I thought I'd bake a little Christmas bread of some kind for some friends and colleagues, but did I count the people I'd need to bake for? No. I grabbed until I'd fetched all of my favorite snowman and santa and reindeer and angel pans. I wound up with seven. They were a dollar apiece. I smiled with satisfaction over how clever I was. I'd spend just a few dollars more on the ingredients for my as-of-yet unknown holiday sweet bread. And I predicted the delight of the recipients of my little made-with-love gift.



I don't like nuts. Wait. Let me clarify. I love my sister and she's a nut. I like to eat a handful of just about any kind of nut. But I don't like nuts when they've been put IN other things. Best way to ruin a brownie or a gooey cinnamon roll? Add nuts. When I went in search of just-the-right holiday sweet bread for my festive personal loaf gifts, I had to wade through a lot of nuts. Fruitcake is just not okay. There's too much going on in there.


This lovely little cranberry and orange bread has a lot going. The recipe called for nuts and I left them out to try to cut down on the chaos. I'll give you the recipe here with nuts included, just in case nutty chaos is your thing.

Batter:

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

¼ teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

1 cup granulated sugar

1 large egg

2/3 cup buttermilk, chilled

6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled

1/3 cup freshly squeezed orange juice

1 tablespoon grated orange zest (about half of 1 orange)

1½ cups fresh cranberries, coarsely chopped

½ cup toasted walnuts or pecans, coarsely chopped

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Prepare one 9x5x2¾ inch loaf pan; lightly grease the pan with shortening and dust with flour. Tip: to make baked bread easier to remove from pan, lightly grease the pan, line with parchment paper, and then lightly grease the top of the parchment paper and dust with flour.
   
   Batter:
2. In a medium bowl, sift together flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Set aside.
   
   
3. In a large bowl, combine sugar, egg, buttermilk, melted butter, orange juice, and orange zest; whisk together until well blended. Add flour mixture; stir just until blended. Add cranberries and nuts; lightly stir to mix in.
   
   Bake:
4. Pour batter in the loaf pan. Bake 60 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Remove pan from oven and let cool about 15 minutes. Grabbing the top edges of the parchment paper, lift bread from loaf pans and place on wire rack to finish cooling. Remove parchment paper and discard.
   
   Makes 1 loaf

A couple of notes about how I played by my own rules. I chopped those cranberries, as you can see, by hand. Not a fabulous idea. But after I gave them a couple of slices, I gave them a rinse. The pesky seeds jump around just like the cranberries and they washed easily down the drain.


I also doubled my recipe. Had enough left over to make a few muffins for myself. Next time, I might sprinkle some coarse sugar over the top. That orange zest and those cranberries are pretty robust. They could use a little more sugar, actually. But I'm not a big fan of things that are overly sweet.

Maybe a big loaf takes an entire hour to be done, but my tiny servings took 20 minutes or so before the toothpick came out clean.

Here's what I did with the yarn I found that day:

The sculpting clay is destined to make some more friends for these guys.

a danish julefrokost

the julefrokost or christmas lunch is an essential part of danish culture. in a work context, it's an excuse to eat too much, drink too much and have a quick shag in a dark corner with one of your coworkers. in the home context, it's an excuse to eat too much and drink too much and generally have a hyggeligt time. hyggeligt is always translated as cozy, but it's much more than that word in english conveys - it carries with it the glow of candlelight and the art of keeping a sustained pleasant level of drunkenness for twelve hours straight, something at which the danes excel.

we're doing a family julefrokost on friday and one with our best friends on saturday. the menu at both will undoubtedly encompass the tradition. essential items include:

* several kinds of herring - usually one in a red wine vinegar,  one in a tomato-based sauce and a curry one (a very mild curry, we are talking the danes here, so it's not a chili curry).
* smørrebrød - danish open-faced sandwiches with toppings that include shrimp, boiled eggs, mayo and dill, fish filet with a yellow remoulade (in the tartar sauce family), creamy chicken salad with canned white asparagus (eewww), warm liver paté (leverpostej) topped with bacon and sautéed mushrooms and served with red beet pickles, a variety of hard sausages and various incarnations of ham served with the appropriate accompaniments (i'll do a separate post about all of this one day).
* tarteletter - light, fluffy pastry shells filled with chicken and more canned white asparagus or mixed seafood in a creamy white sauce.
* flæskesteg - pork roast with the cracklings on top, crisped to perfection, served with white and brown (caramelized) potatoes and red cabbage.
* bowls heaped with mandarin oranges, nuts, dried figs, dates and apricots that you can graze on in between.
* beer, snaps and loads of red wine.

as you can imagine, it takes quite a long time to eat all of this and it's all eaten in a special order - herring and snaps first, then fish, chicken, then pork products cold, followed by warm pork products. and there are all sorts of rules about which kind of bread goes with which - herring on dark bread that's been spread with lard and shrimp on light bread. of course, the danes will tell you there are no rules, but you can be sure there are indeed rules when you can tell by looking around at the horrified faces that you've just violated them by putting your warm leverpostej on white bread.

at the saturday julefrokost, there are ten couples involved and each couple brings a course. i bring something different every year, according to my mood (tho' i'm not allowed to bring dessert because there's an italian woman who brings tiramisu every year). one year it was a pepped up chili flæskesteg (because i can't leave the tradition well enough alone) and this year, i had the bright idea of making homemade pickled herring.

the problem with making pickled herring is that you don't actually know how it's going to turn out 'til you get there with it, so if it's vile, i'll be in big trouble, as herring starts the whole thing off. i spent a lot of time searching for recipes and pouring over old-fashioned danish cookbooks and i arrived at two recipes. one called for poaching the herring in the oven with the vinegar/sugar solution over it and so it is actually cooked and the one (pictured above) calls for letting the vinegar do the "cooking" for me.

for both recipes, i salted my fresh herring fillets (which i got from my fishmonger) and let them sit in the outside (now known as the herring) refrigerator for 24 hours.

poached pickled herring

8 fresh herring, sprinkled with 200g sea salt and a spoonful of sugar and allowed to sit overnight in the refrigerator

marinade:

450ml white wine vinegar

300ml water

250g sugar

1 T allspice berries

1 T black peppercorns

3 bay leaves (preferably fresh)
2 sliced carrots
3 sliced red onions
2 tsp. grated, fresh horseradish
1 orange, thinly sliced, rind and all

place the marinade ingredients in a pan and bring it to a boil. place the fish in an oven-proof dish (rinsing off the salt) and pour the hot marinade over, baking in the oven at 200℃/375℉ for 20 minutes. transfer the fish to a prepared, sterile jar and pour over as much of the marinade as will fit. refrigerate up to a week before use.

i intend to use the poached herring recipe as a base for a herring salad with apple and creme frâiche.

herring with creme frâiche and apple salad

8 preserved herring fillets

250ml creme frâiche or sour cream

4 red apples, cored and sliced

2-3 T chives, chopped

2 small red onions, peeled and sliced

1 tsp. dijon mustard

juice of a half a lemon

1 pinch cayenne pepper

chopped dill

salt and freshly-ground pepper to taste

cut the herring into bite-sized chunks. mix the creme frâiche, chives, mustard, lemon juice and seasoning together in a bow, add the herring, apples and onions, cover and refrigerate for 4-5 hours. sprinkle with chopped dill and serve with rye bread.

pickled herring

8 salted herring fillets

marinade:
3 T sugar
1 T peppercorns
1 T allspice
3 fresh bay leaves
2 small sliced red onions
250ml white wine vinegar

cut your salted, rinsed herring fillets into bite sized-pieces and stuff them tightly into a sterilized jar, layering in peppercorns, allspice, bay leaves and onion slices as you go. stir together the sugar and vinegar until the sugar is dissolved, pour over the herring filets until they are completely covered by vinegar. if you need a bit more than 250ml, add more vinegar until they are covered.

refrigerate up to one week before serving on rye bread with slices of red onion and boiled egg.

* * *

i'll admit that i'm apprehensive about how these are going to turn out. me, the non-dane in the bunch, making the essential herring that kicks the whole thing off. i'm going to bring a salmon ceviche with grapefruit as a backup in case these are vile. and i'm also bringing homemade horseradish snaps and cranberry snaps, in the hopes that it will help it glide down a bit easier. but as a last resort, i'm also thinking about bringing one of these to distract and redeem myself at the end in case it goes wrong, even tho' the italian woman is bringing tiramisu:

nigella's buche de noel (photo from last year)

christmas favorites: teacakes and a tea ring

first i have to say that we are in the darkest time of the year here in denmark and that means that on the best of days, there's only good light between about 10 a.m. and 2 p.m. by 2:30, there's already a sunset quality to the light. most days are dark, overcast and very grey and it rains a lot and we don't see the sunshine for weeks on end. i'm explaining this for several reasons. one, it means my pictures all have the very golden cast of the artificial light combined with the yellow walls of my kitchen. and two, it means we take cover in the house, baking. especially here in the lead up to the holidays. this weekend, we baked two family holiday favorites and we will bake them again before the season is over.

the first is a holiday tea ring in a pretty wreath-shape that my mom always makes. the recipe makes two, one to keep and one to give away.  it has festive candied cherries on top and is a delicious, slightly-sweet bread. it makes a good breakfast if you have any left the next morning, just slather on a bit of butter and drink with a steaming mug of tea (or coffee).

holiday tea ring

1/2 C butter

1 C milk

melt the butter and add the milk, heating it til it's rather lukewarm (you don't want it too hot or it will kill your yeast)

4.5-5 C flour

1/2 C sugar

1 tsp. salt

1 package fresh yeast (or two packages dry yeast)

2 eggs

handful of raisins

halved candied cherries

pecans (if desired)

sugar

cinnamon

butter

put the yeast and the sugar down in your mixing bowl and when the milk/butter mixture is warm, add it to the yeast. allow it to dissolve and begin to work, add the eggs. begin adding the flour, one cup at a time. mix it well. if you use your kitchen aid, let the dough hook do the work, if not, you will need to knead the dough for about 5 minutes, then place it in a large, lightly-greased, floured bowl to rise until it's double in size.

when it's doubled in size, divide it in half and roll it out into two rectangles that are approximately 18" x 7" (according to my mom's instructions), spread it with butter down the middle, sprinkle with cinnamon sugar (to taste) - we put quite a lot, then add a handful of raisins, pecans and cherries down the middle. since there is a little girl at our house that loves the cherries, but not raisins or nuts, we put only cherries in ours. it's really up to you. you could also put in other dried fruits - melon, apple, papaya, cranberries - whatever you like.

join the two ends so that it forms a wreath shape and transfer to a baking tray lined with baking paper. use a scissors to clip 2/3 of the way in (that's not what i did in the picture - i did it wrong and only remembered how to do it correctly afterwards) every inch and a half or so. then take every other one of those, pull it up and twist it to make the wreath look more wreath-like. allow it to rise half an hour or so in a warm place, brush with an egg/water wash (if desired) then bake at 175℃/350℉ for 20-25 minutes (my oven seems faster than others, so you may need more time than this).

make up an easy powdered sugar frosting and drizzle it over, decorating with cherries.

frosting

1 C powdered sugar

2 tsp. milk

dash of vanilla

i advise diving in while it's still warm. be sure to make a fresh pot of christmas tea to go with it.

the other favorite we made this weekend were my grandmother's russian teacakes. they're so easy, not too sweet (which makes them perfect in my book)

russian teacakes

1 C. butter
½ C. powdered sugar
¼ t. salt
1 t. vanilla
2 ¼ C. flour
¾ C. finely ground pecans (or walnuts if, like me, you can't find pecans anywhere this year)

bake 200℃/400℉ 8-10 minutes. they do not need to be brown, but are quite pale. make 3 doz. balls. grandma always mashed them criss-crossed with a fork. when cooled, roll the cookies in sifted powdered sugar. try not to eat them all the first day.

Making mincemeat

Okay, friends:  it is time to start soaking your fruit.

I know that we've just packed away the Halloween costumes, and that many of you are thinking in terms of Thanksgiving menus, but it is only six weeks until Christmas . . . and making your own mincemeat is a really satisfying (even relaxing!) way to prepare for the holiday of all holidays.  It is easy, too; all you need is a big pot and a wooden spoon.

Mince pies are ubiquitous in England during the Christmas season. So much so, in fact, that the original delicacy is in danger of being debased.  People get so used to the cheap boxes of pre-made mince pies that they forget how utterly delicious the homemade version is by comparison.  When done right, commonplace things are ambrosial.

There is something about a homemade mince pie, with its meltingly soft pastry and mouthful of rich fruit, that makes me think of all of the coziest Christmas associations:  snow on the outside when you are on the inside, roaring fires, favorite carols, candles in the window, dark nights, a glittering tree, visiting loved ones. 
 

I do realize that not everyone likes dried fruit, or the Christmasy treats made with them.  (I think that I used to be one of these people, actually, but no longer!)  I grew up with baking traditions that revolved around cookies and candy, but in England you've got the holy trinity of dried fruit:  Christmas pudding, Christmas cake and mince pies.  Although I haven't abandoned the sugar cookies, the gingerbread men, the toffee or the peanut brittle from my childhood, all of these years in England have added their own cultural accretions.  Really, I couldn't contemplate Christmas without mince pies.

A few years ago I started making my own mincemeat -- a misnomer, really, as no one puts meat into their mixture these days.  Every year I try a new recipe, and I've had good results with both suet and butter.  I've added apricots, candied ginger and pear in place of the usual apple, but this year I was in the mood for something more classic. This recipe comes from Mary Berry's Christmas Collection.  (Was there ever a better name for a Christmas cookery writer?)  It is a very traditional recipe -- and I'm going to give it to you straight, just in case there are some mince pie neophytes out there who want to give it a go. 

Having said that, I made several alterations to this blueprint:  namely, I left out the apple, substituted pecans for the almonds, slightly reduced the mixed peel, and doubled the quantities of everything.  I made one batch with rum, and one with sherry.  I really fancy the idea of mixing in the rum-soaked fruit to some vanilla ice cream and making a Christmas version of one of my favorites:  rum-and-raisin ice cream.

I had planned on giving some of the jars as gifts, but I can't promise that I will follow through.  Last year, I had several jars from the previous year's canning sessions.  I gave one to a friend, and when I tasted how absolutely delicious this vintage blend was I was sadly tempted to ask for it back! 

We should probably make mincemeat in July, but who wants to think of Christmas then?  You need a cold, dank November day to really get into the spirit of boozy soaked fruit.

Special mincemeat

Ingredients:

175g (6 oz) currants

175g (6 oz) raisins

175g (6 oz) sultanas

175g (6 oz) dried cranberries

100g (4 oz) mixed peel

1 small cooking apple, peeled, cored and finely diced

125g (4 oz) butter, cut into small pieces* (you could also use the traditional suet here)

50g (2 oz) whole blanched almonds, roughly chopped

225g (8 oz) light brown sugar

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

1 teaspoon mixed spice

finely grated rind and juice of 1 lemon

200ml (7 fl oz) brandy, rum or sherry

Method:

Measure all of the ingredients into a large saucepan -- EXCEPT for the alcohol.

Heat gently until the butter has all melted, and then simmer over low heat for 10 minutes.  Stir occasionally to evenly distribute all of the ingredients.

Allow the mixture to cool completely, and then stir in the alcohol of your choice.

Sterilize your canning jars -- I tend to do this in the dishwasher, and then dry them out well in a low oven.  Spoon the cool mixture into the jars and seal tightly.  The longer you leave them, the better.

If stored in a cool place, they should last well for months . . . and maybe even until next Christmas!