Christmas cake

I baked my Christmas cake today and that in itself should be the entry but it's not. What did you expect?

Several phone calls were made to the folks,whilst baking, to check that I had the trusted family recipe and had mixed it as I should. It was kind of a blindfold cooking lesson.

For me Christmas cake evokes so many memories of the festive season being spent with my folks in England, hoping for the white Christmas we hardly ever had. The Queen's speech was over and a crappy film about to be begin but it was grand.

The washing up could wait as my brother and I would fight over who washed and who dried and more importantly what the music would be.

I didn't eat the stuff [Christmas cake] for a long time as it contained dried fruit. It still does but I believe my taste buds have changed and now have a nostalgia region.

Mum used to make the cake and pudding way in advance. The pudding elicited a more exciting reaction as it contained either Guinness or Mackeson stout. Mum hardly ever drank so the results were amusing to say the least. My grandmother helped and she also loved the velvety liquid that rewarded the hard work.

I remember my mother's biceps bulging as mixtures were stirred. A sweaty brow was mopped and a dark liquid was quaffed. The liquid always made Mum laugh and it was a while before I worked out why or experienced the sensations myself. Nan got to be quite giggly too.

I haven't had Christmas with the folks for 6 years and I miss it. I am not saying it is the most amazing time, just that it is home and takes me back to my childhood and I like that.

I suppose I make my Christmas cake because I am a transplant here and do not want my country's traditions to be forgotten. I am a traditionalist in many ways and a Brit through and through.

My younger daughter and I made it together and maybe that is what it is all about- sharing an experience that will hopefully be fondly remembered. The older one won't touch the stuff for the reasons I wouldn't but the younger one will be raring to go.

The cake will be liberally laced with brandy up until a few days before Christmas to add marzipan and icing. To most Americans this is the most disgusting dessert imaginable but we see this export as a test of courage- are you man/woman enough?

The icing 2 years ago was a staid affair. The older daughter and I plonked snowmen and a golden Santa atop the royal icing- homemade naturally. Mr Claus did look like he was hitting a Liberace period.

I can't say I came up with the best icing story but I have copied it and it is with this that I leave you.

Picture a iced cake surface that is smooth as glass yet evoking fluffy snow. A snowman looks out from his central position. His gaze is far away almost ethereal. This is the sole decoration apart from a splash of orange juice at the base of the snowman and little fingerprints that hint at a canine's hasty departure after his relief.