Christmas Cakes....Secret recipes

It's flattering, it's astounding the following it has, it's a sign of tradition and progress.

What on earth am I prattling on about?
Christmas cake of course.

My grandmothers both baked fruit loafs at Christmas time for as far back as I can remember and while both were delicious they were also unique. Nan's was lighter and less dense; Mother's (my maternal grandmother) was more fruit-laden and darker - this latter trait was thanks to the gravy browning she put in it -- yes, you read it correctly: gravy browning. Nan always used brandy to lace the loaf and Mother preferred rum; me being somewhat of an alcoholic, loved them both.

As time took its tenacious toll, both grandmothers had to give up on making the cakes; after all it's all done by hand and stirring kilos of dry fruit round and round is not easy on the elbow joints. Now for those that don't know, my Mam is not known for her culinary prowess; in fact, to her credit, she once did try to boil her own beetroot. Unfortunately, she peeled the damn things and as a result we had WHITE beetroot instead of the usual PURPLE. It apparently tasted OK, but looked distinctly anaemic.

So when Mam volunteered to have a go at taking over the batton for cake baking, I was skeptical to say the least. She donned her pinny (cf pinafore) and started stirring. After several nail-biting hours in the oven, the cake was taken out and inspected. There's nothing quite like newly baked things and the aroma engulfed the kitched.

Delicious was the unanimous verdict.

It has been a tradition going back to my grandmothers' time for me to take one cake to work for my colleagues to share; what started in Paris, moved to Tokyo and is now firmly ensconced in Singapore at Synovate.

You can see a picture at: http://www.facebook.com/#/photo.php?pid=4451075&id=566862385&ref=mf

The cake gets accolades every year - and some people even put in advance orders. My matriarchs in the Smith/Martin family are deeply touched by such praise and thank all the followers of the beloved Christmas Cake.

And to spread the joy, I've decided to publish the top secret recipe; so please experiement and enjoy.

HAPPY BAKING.

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Ingredients:

7/8inch cake tin
4oz butter +4oz margarine
8oz caster sugar,4 eggs, 1lbs currants,8oz raisins, 4oz pkt cherry's, 6oz plain flour, 4oz ground almonds.1/2 T/spoon mixed spices.1/4 T/spoon baking powder, 1Tablewarm treacle, 1table spoon rum (dark).
grease and line tin
wash cherry's dry 1 oz,
place all fruits in colander over a basin,pour 1and a 1/2 table spoons of rum over them and leave overnight.

Method:

Butter/Margarine/Sugar and warm Treacle mix well.
Add beaten eggs and flour,then slowly add all the remainder of ingredients.
Add the rest of the rum,don't make the mix to sloppy.
spoon into tin level off.
Bake for 1/2 hr at 160 (fan oven150) then 3 to 3 1/2 hrs at145 (fan 135)
When baked leave in tin about 1 hr, pour over 1Tablespoon of rum.
Remove from tin leave overnight to cool.
Wrap in grease proof paper and tin foil place in a airtight container
Brush with rum every 2 wks

To be made 6/8 weeks before needed.

Hong Kong - not so bad

As someone summarised for me recently "I'm more of a second city kind of guy". And mostly it's true; Chicago over New York, Cologne or Munich over Berlin, Sinapore over Hong Kong - if you allow me a certain latitude. I think there are bold exceptions: Rome, Paris, London - but hey, who said we were logical beings.

But Singapore would have my vote time and time again over HK.
That was - until my last trip.

I just got back from a chilly yet beautifully azure Hong Kong, where I spent a delightful weekend. I was lucky enough to stay at the W Hotel in Kowloon and amazing it was too. Funky yet stylish; bold yet warm; quirky yet functional the entire hotel exuded sophistication and luxury. Swimming on the 73rd floor in the open air (and luckily warmed up) pool was a real treat; vista views of the city before me and enticingly warm water to do my pseudo-exercising in. The room was over-sized - think they upgraded me - ha - and tastefully kitted out in greys and earthy tones. The main thing that did annoy me was the iPod docking station didn't support my player - which is surprising since it's once of the new generation ones; I must confess this didn't matter too much as the in-room Wonderlust CD provided by the hotel was more than jumping for me - great tracks by Madonna, Kylie, Dame Shirley and other such funkettes.

On Saturday I met up with a couple of old C&W colleagues who treated me to one of the nicest afternoons I've had in HK for a long time. We ate dim sum in Sheung Wan - not a gwai loh in sight - and gorged ourselves on won ton, shrimp stuffed vegetables, ha kau, char siew bao and greens. We then wandered to a small adjacent alleyway to find "snake house"; an establishment that's been serving meals, pastries and coffee for over 60 years to those in the know. We had warm cola with ginger and lemon - now there's a combination for you. Apparently good for colds - but it tasted, even to the non-flu-afflicted, rather delicious. My good friend offered salted lemon with Sprite - which didn't sound as appealing; I passed on that concoction. Meandering the streets of Central afterwards in the yellow rays was a joy.

There were many such little episodes that really made this trip to HK memorable: getting lost on the dark roads of Stanely, dinner at Lucy's, yoga in Dragon I, Chinese art in the gallery, the luxury malls, the sophistication of the Hong Kongers' dress sense, protests outside Citibank, picking up my newly tailored shirts and much much more.

As we change, perhaps cities change too, or perhaps we just see them differently.
Either way, I'm glad HK is my friend again.

Flights of fancy

Well I must say: thank goodness British Airways didn't go on strike...and I (selfishly) made it back to splendid Singapore. This rant isn't going to be about the politics of strike action (I'll save that for another time), but rather about how impressed I was with BA's service.

I've been living in splendid Singapore for over 6 years now - and by the way I think "splendid Singapore" a much more apt and "out there" epithet that "uniquely Singapore" adopted by the tourism board here - and during this time have been a loyal advocate of Singapore Airlines (or SQ as we affectionately refers to them, using their airline code as shorthand). They are indeed hard to beat; well designed cabins, impeccably trained crew, the slimmest women (and men) you've ever seen in the sky; and a record for efficiency and accuracy that is legendary.

I had some Cathay Pacific OneWorld miles to use up before they expired and managed to secure (with great difficulty) business class flights back home for Christmas with British Airways. It was going to cost me virtually nothing and I thought "why not?!".

The flight to London was a great start with wonderful seats (newly designed) and much more comfortable than the "old" SQ seats and even better laid out than the new SQ "largest seat in business class" mammoth. The cocoon-style pod of BA is a tad hemmed-in to begin with, but once you get over your innate sense of claustrophobic self-preservation, the seat is soft, long and terribly enticing to a good night's sleep. I always feel the SQ wide-berth leather-coated chair-cum-bed with a donkey leg, lie sideways to sleep approach, a bit awkward.

But surely SQ trumped BA on service, I hear you shout...well, actually the service both ways on BA was very very good; welcome drinks were served, food was delivered with precision (mostly) and the crew were polite and engaging. There were glitches, of course there were, but that's a fact of a very complicated service offering with many variables...I was slightly peeved, I must confess, that after telling at least 5 BA staff at different stages of my arrival that I wanted to use the arrivals lounge to shower before my connecting flight to Newcastle and not one of them advised me I could use the departures lounge at Terminal 5, even though I was flying economy, since I'd arrived in business class from HK. So I did waste about 30-40 minutes exiting customs and putting myself through unnecessary security searches to get back through - ah well, customers often know more about the products than the brand ambassadors themselves.

I could have wished for more TV choices (films were OK) not knowing a single comedy option on offer and feeling short-changed on the documentary front, but these are small points in the big scheme of things - and coming back to Singapore, I did watch a fabulous commentary on Beethoven, which imbued me with a serene joy.

So all in all, a delightful experience and one I will most likely repeat - SQ's penny-pinching of late has become a tad annoying and the food quite inedible in all classes - so it's not very often I wave the Union Flag and shout bravo England!, but on this occasion I feel I shall and more importantly, I feel that BA deserves it.

Well done.
And by way, the photo is of Carlisle, Cumbria showing a snowy lane on 22nd December.

Madras or Chennai?

I was recently lucky enough to visit my very good friends Patrick and Beebee in the rather nondescript city of Chennai - formerly Madras.

Is that a contradiction, I hear you cry...yes and no.

As with so many things in life it's an oxymoron of real-life proportions. The city itself was nothing to write home about, but the people....oh the people.

As expected, Patrick showed me the party side of Madras: those guys know how to party, with 80s funk and 90s chic. After surviving the driving to get to a stag night on Saturday evening, the booming didn't stop. We were fortunate to be cocooned at a friend's "studio"-cum-"kitchen" with all the mod cons including sink and conveniently placed bathrooms. The trance music mixed by the groom-to-be was a little jolting, but the conversation was passionate and engaging.

I think a couple of the conservative Channaikers were somewhat taken aback at my openness about being gay; but that will do them good in the long run.

Then we retired to the hen party - a first for me....I've done plenty of hen nights on their own and a couple of stags - including my own - but this was a first combining the two..... and after a bum-feeling contest which I managed to avoid, I thought perhaps it was not a bad idea to combine the two. Mind you, I did miss the actual "feeling" action, but my vodka tonic was refreshing - a man can't have everything, now, can he?!?!

Then, Monday, and some culture....the rocks at Mamallapuram were amazing. Entire temples carved from single pieces of rock; smoothed over centuries of lapping seawater; eventually preserved by constructing a simple barrier sanctioned by the late Indira Ghandi.

So, is it Chennai or Madras? Who the hell cares, it's a city full of life, wonderful creativity and amazing relics.

I personally like the onomatopoeia of Madras but do acknowledge the political obligation of a name-change.



I'll be back.

Thoughts on a Tuesday evening....

Or is it Wednesday morning....?
Suppose it depends where you are, right?

Life throws all kinds of malarkey at you...and it almost never seems fair...but how much of it, is of our own making? This is a question I often I ask myself. What if I did that differently, what if I had done that, what if....oh for goodness' sake; what if?

Someone told me recently it's good to wear ones heart on ones sleeve and I've always done that and this old dog won't change his tricks. And why the hell should we? We are what / who we are and the tricks we've perfected should serve us well. But in defence of the dark art of honesty, I firmly believe when we're truthful, honest, open, admissive, we allow others a view of our soul; we allow others the right to judge; we allow others to be themselves.

Let go; just be...

I am trying that philosophy right now and I think it's a good paradigm to work within.

I'm listening to a CD a good friend recorded and the track by Leona Lewis resonates with: what if it hurts me? what if I break down? ... I wanna hear myself ... don't care about all pain in front of me ... I just wanna be happy.

And that's where we all surely wanna be.

This blog entry is a truly joyous entry; one filled with hope and optimism.

I shall see many many friends over the Festive Season and there will be many more I won't see, but I know there are constants in all this turbulence.

I will probably blog more often (if more succinctly) over the next few weeks...hope you can cope with following it all...and PLEASE DO COMMENT.

Well here endeth the rant...or was it a revelation?!

Decorations - a premature X-jaculation?

Well as I've been told several times this week, we're now a mere SEVEN weeks away from Yuletide. Seven long weeks, 49 days (give or take); this is ages away and yet we're treating it as if it's just around the corner. It's two months away for goodness' sake.

And yet, and yet, the decorations are up, the lights have started to twinkle and the glitter is sparkling in those said twinkling filaments. We will now have to embark on a full 7 weeks of anticipation in a run up to a splendid celebration of a great world religion. It's not the commercialism that concerns me; I'm a committed capitalist. It's more the ruinous aspect of doing things too early and spoiling the end effect. The anti-climax that is now Christmas for many of us starts with a garland being decked far too early.

In Singapore, it's a year-long celebration city, as one festival after the next is honoured and revered in street decorations and in-shop buying opportunities. New Year flows into Chinese New Year which flows into Easter, then Vesak, Ramadan, National Day, Deepavali and ultimately the Haj season. All this before coming full circle to Xmas. The challenge for the local economy is that the Haj season doesn't really see enough people swinging their handbags in the shopping malls - therefore Chirstmas "needs" to start early.

In my opinion, and it may not be so humble on this topic, let's keep the special exactly that: special. Decking the proverbial halls with faux-holly and tacky glitter-spiked baubles so far in advance somewhat deflates the crescendo before it's begun.

My plea to you, therefore, is dust off the decorations, pin up the window dressings, cast the lametta and erect your tree when it's time and not before; let's save December for Christmas, the other months are already cluttered.

And as we all know, coming too soon can only lead to a limp finale...

Why does the 2nd world war still haunt us Europeans? And why do families fight?

It ended over 60 years ago and yet it pervades so much of European consciousness. The Second World War was heinous in extremes; whether thinking about the sheer number of dead on both sides, the genocide that took place (the effects of which we're still feeling in the Middle East today) or the ultimate triumph of freedom over fascism, the war was record-breaking in so many ways.

And yet, we persist to label the Germans, sympathise with the Jews to the neglect of all other concentration camp suffers and pat ourselves on the back as victors who would never have stooped so low. Never, would we have treated our fellow man in such a despicable way; and yet history is littered with examples of men being callous to his neighbour in every part of the world: Indian Partition, Rwanda, Bosnia...

The deaths, the senseless deaths of the holocaust and the others who died alongside the Jews: the Catholics, the political prisoners, the gays, the gypsies, the mixed races; it brings me to choking point, and I wasn't even alive when it all happened. One could be sucked, so easily, into a downward spiral of pessimistic pandering. But the strong amongst us will see the good in people; the beauty that surrounds us; the joy we can give to each other. Without this we're doomed.

Just as those thousands and hundreds of thousands of Jews who dug their own graves were doomed; only to be shot in the head by with a Nazi bullet.

We are better than that; we're stronger than they.

And to make it personal; my own family is rent apart because of a stupid puerile disagreement that could have been so easily averted. We must find it in ourselves to forgive our trespassers, for if we don't we're condemned to a life of hatred and loathing that will consume our very being: look at amazing South Africa and the reconciliation the managed to achieve! We can do it. We can move on.

As the tears stream down my face, I lament a family once in love with each other and now one that is riven apart by misunderstanding, pride and baseless prejudice.

The war of the worlds is often played out in the parlours of families.

Let's hope the butler soon arrives and asks us for our choice of sherry to sweep away the lacrimosa effect of my rantings and we shall, in typical English style, sweep our anxieties under the proverbial carpet and get on with life...!