Baking | Family fun | Christmas traditions
A Tradition of Black Rum Cake at Christmas
Fond memories of Christmases' past
Memories of simpler times of fun and family
I can distinctly smell the “fruit cake” my grandmother baked at Christmas and for weddings.
The home, filled with the delicious aroma of fresh cakey goodness added to the festive feel this time of year.
My grandma would bake small “tester” cakes that we would sample — what a delight!
My grandmother was a master baker.
She did not use a recipe per se, she baked it from a pinch of this and a little of that!
She could look at the texture and know when it was just right.
As kids, we were excited to help turn the massive amounts of cake batter.
Finally, we were recruited to clean up the bowl by eating the leftover batter.
I can still see the color, texture, and smell the flavor.
Granma knew cakes.
Preparing to bake the fruit cake aka black cake was no easy feat.
The preparations began at least six months before.
We began by harvesting various fruits for curing. Then they needed to be washed, cleaned, and cut into smaller pieces, removing the seeds and stems.
This was all done by hand — laborious work.
By the time we finished one batch our fingers were withered from being damp for so long.
Next, the fruits had to be cooked with sugar, wine, and spices, then it was cured until baking day.
Back then, she used the salted butter, imported from Suriname, South America.
The night before we began the laborious task of washing the salt from the massive amounts of butter.
Everyone took a turn.
It would take hours of washing with grandma occasionally tasting it to see if the butter was salt-free. She couldn't have salted butter messing up the taste of the cake.
When the run-off was salt-free, grandma pronounced that batch completed. You could then take your tired arms off to bed.
The next morning, the spices were parched and pounded in a wooden mortar. See pic below.
Then we would pass the contents through a very fine sieve.
The aroma of the fresh spices was exhilarating to the nose.
Next, beating the eggs then adding the other ingredients.
Then the cake is mixed, panned, and baked.
In those days, though there was a gas stove with an oven, the baking was mostly done in the outdoor adobe (mud) oven.
As kids, that oven was a place of food and fun and we have many great memories surrounding that oven.
Finally, when the tester cake is done we get to eat it — what joy!
Later the cake is cooled and intermittently doused in wine or rum.
Back in those times, refrigerators were in short supply, so they sprinkled some alcohol on the cake to help preserve it.
That cake could stay out of the fridge for greater than six months.
And like fine wine, it seems to age with time and just gets better and better.
These days, the baking is done by my mother. She has become the matriarchal baker.
She is also skilled in pastry making as well as many other ethnic foods.
So this Christmas, the smell of black cake will permeate the air once again, reminding me of a simpler time, when life was easy and fun with family and friends.
Those days of simple lack when all seemed well with life.
Recently we started an Etsy store, my mom and my aunt do prepare most of the items, I contribute to a couple of things. Here is a link if you are curious.
What Christmas memories remind you of a fun and simpler time? Please share if you feel the need to.
This is another story of my grandma’s kitchen is you care to read
Thank you for reading my story.
Pene Hodge is a mom, a nurse, a writer. She writes because she must. She loves people and is committed to sharing and gleaning knowledge for the betterment of all.