A Generosity of Christmas Cake ~ Celtic Advent Day 19

Look at the beautiful Christmas cake homemade & decorated by my sister-in-law, Rebecca & given to us this week! Last year we didn't get our Christmas cake until June and a big chunk of it made its way to the Church of England General Synod, plus gained a donation for the National Fox Welfare Society. Life weaves in the strangest of ways.

And so, we are doing marvellously well this year as it isn't even Christmas yet and our cake is firmly installed in the hedgehermitage kitchen. I'm still hoping that some gets to Synod though; spreading sweetness in the corridors of power. The cake is beautifully sparkly with icing holly berries and leaves; quite, quite stunning and I know that when we cut it on Christmas Day (it was once thought unlucky to cut the cake until dawn on Christmas Eve) it will be delicious.

The history of our traditional Christmas cake is more fascinating than we might imagine. Often things become so familiar that they just ARE & we don't think about what they may once have been.

The Christmas cake was once porridge! In the 16th Century plum porridge or pottage, first written of in 1573, was eaten on Christmas Eve. This was a way to break the Advent fast before the festivities of Christmas Day. Over time the porridge oats were replaced by butter, flour, and eggs. Originally this new mix would have been boiled and it was only when richer families got home ovens that baking became possible; the boiled version becoming Christmas pudding and the baked version, Christmas cake. Dried fruit was later added, together with marzipan decorations, but this was traditionally eaten at Easter. However, with the increased availability of spices a winter version emerged; the Twelfth Night cake, with the spices symbolic of the gifts brought to the Christ child by the Magi.

Slowly the popularity of Twelfth Night cake declined, no doubt as we were 'encouraged' to make our festivities shorter and shorter and get back to work the day after Boxing Day. By the 1830s many traditions had migrated to Christmas Day and the Christmas cake went with them. By the 1870s, the cake we recognise today had developed. At this time Victorian bakers began decorating the cakes with winter snow scenes, echoing the idealised vision given to us by Charles Dickens. That is certainly a vision that's taken hold of me. In my mind, at Christmas, all children have rosy cheeks and a sprig of holly in their hats. And it always snows.

2016's Christmas cake, which was also our wedding cake!

There are several different types of Christmas cake in the British Isles, but these are generally variations on the fruit cake. One of the most popular is the Scottish style Dundee cake, made with whisky but without marzipan or icing. This gave rise to the tradition of 'feeding the cake', where alcohol is introduced to the already baked cake through small holes over several weeks (the cake having been made in November, often on Stir-up Sunday).

Not all Christmas cakes contain fruit. In Japan, Christmas cakes are covered in whipped cream and decorated with strawberries or other seasonal fruits and Christmas chocolates. In the Philippines, they are bright yellow poundcakes covered with macerated nuts. Traditionally these were fed with civet mysk, but rose or orange flower water is more often used. In Germany, the fruit bread, Stollen, known as Weinachtstollen or Christstollen, is traditional Christmas fare. In Italy, Panetonne, a sweet sourdough bread, is prepared over several days.

And, of course, there is the  Yule Cake, which is traditionally eaten in France, Belgium, French Canada (food can reveal the footsteps of Empire too!), Luxembourg, and Lebanon. The Bûche de Nöel is a light sponge cake covered with buttercream, often flavoured with chocolate, then rolled, covered in further buttercream and then streaked to resemble the bark of a tree. Yumptious scrumptious! This cake represents the wooden Yule log which has been burned for several days over Christmas in hearths across Europe since the Middle Ages. Layer upon layer of meaning and deliciousness.

I will very much look forward to tucking into our own Christmas cake, whose loveliness for me is enhanced by it being a gift created and given by family. Because, even more than food, Christmas is about generosity, sharing, and love.

Mr Radical Honeybee with 2015's Christmas cake

2016's Christmas cake, which was also our wedding cake!

References:

http://www.justlovechristmas.co.uk/history-of-christmas/history-of-christmas-traditions/christmas-cake.html

https://www.bluebellsbynicki.com/1283-2/

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christmas_cake

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/King_cake

https://www.bakingmad.com/baking-tips/cake/how-to-feed-a-christmas-cake

Autumn Equinox Small Beauties

An early walk down to the sea and taking a bus along the coast. Such a feeling of stillness and a breath held. A beautiful pause to dream in.

The wide, wild open spaces of Romney Marsh and the shingle beach; flat, empty, seemingly reaching on forever.

entranced by the faraway sea, silver light spinning shimmers across the shallows, rich mudflats of toffee and cinnamon ripples, the small dots of sea birds in the distant blue. This world of salt and shallow, so much hidden in this landscape that might like you to believe that it has revealed everything.

Ice Age shingle beaches, a sprinkling of shells and different kinds of seaweed ~ one that looked as though it was made of felt that I didn't believe was real until I saw its sister in the shallow water, small treasures to be found everywhere if only I remembered to force my eyes away from the wide silver-blue to the ground beneath my feet.

the warm wood of the boardwalk and the small lichens who have made it their home. the unexpected texture of sea kale ~ so much to learn about this new kind of green, and the face of a tiny stone-spirit found in a beach pebble. 

So much that was unfamiliar and which I long to learn about. And the absolute silence so loud that I could almost hear the song of the Salt Mother. Almost.

The buzz of my friend's coffee morning, full of people who felt that they held the warmth of community; good conversation, plots and plans woven, much laughter, sweet truffles put in a little box to take home to Himself, and Victoria Sponge for me. My favourite!!

Bright sunflowers against clear blue sky.

The familiarity of the intimate beaches of home. Nothing wide and wild there, except the sea, the sea and the black of our night-sky cormorant.

The coolness of the woods on a hot, hot day, and the continued stillness of Equinox; looking up in awe of the tree people who grow there, the air filled with tiny fairy-like light beings, the Equinox sun now and then bursting through a gap in the trees and making the leaves glow golden.

Finding a gathering of tiny, tiny mushrooms in the park.

Good conversation and sharing with Himself on a walk high above the, by then, darkening blue sea; white wave tops and the most stunning view of France, which I have never seen so clearly. We talked of our ancestors looking out across the waves and seeing this mysterious land of chalk cliffs and green hills that appears and disappears, seemingly like magic. No wonder that our folklore is full of such tales.

A hand lick from a shy ginger cat and then from a very unshy little dog.

A tray of far-too-abundant-for-one-man apples on a wall freely shared with passers by. I left a little thank you note and the apples were delicious. What a magical day for the sharing of apples!

The most perfect Autumn Equinox in this new place.