A Cake That Waits for You

There is a particular sort of afternoon in the countryside when the weather turns and the day empties out. A neighbour calls in with a jar of jam, a walker you know from the village appears at the door with wet boots, and suddenly there are four people in the kitchen and nothing in the tin but crumbs. This is the moment a traditional fruit cake earns its place. It is not a cake you bake in a hurry for a specific occasion. It is a cake you bake quietly on a Tuesday, wrap up, and forget about until it is needed — and it will be better for the waiting than it was on the day it came out of the oven.

What Goes Into the Tin

A good country fruit cake is rich without being heavy and spiced without being Christmassy. For a 20cm round deep tin, you want roughly the following. Nothing here is difficult to find, and most of it will already be in the pantry if you bake regularly.

• 500g mixed dried fruit — sultanas, raisins and currants in roughly equal measure
• 100g glacé cherries, halved and rinsed of their syrup, plus 75g chopped candied peel
• 225g unsalted butter and 225g dark muscovado sugar for depth and a molasses edge
• 4 large eggs, at room temperature
• 225g plain flour, 50g ground almonds and 75g walnut pieces
• 1 tsp mixed spice, ½ tsp ground cinnamon and a good grating of nutmeg
• 2 tbsp black treacle and the finely grated zest of an orange

The Overnight Soak

The night before baking, tip the dried fruit and peel into a bowl and pour over 150ml of strong black tea, or brandy if you keep it. Cover and leave it on the dresser. The fruit will swell and soften, and the cake will be noticeably moister for it. If you forget, warm the fruit gently in the liquid for a few minutes instead — it will not be quite the same, but it will do.

Mixing and the Slow Bake

Cream the butter and sugar until pale and genuinely fluffy, which takes longer than you think — five minutes with a wooden spoon, or three with a hand mixer. Beat in the eggs one at a time, adding a spoonful of flour with each to stop the mixture curdling. Stir in the treacle, zest and spices, then fold in the remaining flour, the almonds and the nuts. Finally, fold through the soaked fruit, including any liquid left in the bowl. The batter should be stiff enough to hold the spoon upright.

Line the tin with a double layer of greaseproof paper and tie a collar of brown paper around the outside to stop the edges scorching. Bake at 140°C fan / 160°C conventional for about three to three and a half hours. Lay a sheet of baking parchment loosely over the top after the first ninety minutes. The cake is ready when a skewer pushed into the centre comes out with only a few moist crumbs and the top feels firm rather than wobbly. Leave it to cool completely in the tin — fruit cakes are fragile while warm.

Feeding and Keeping

Once cold, prick the surface all over with a skewer and spoon over a tablespoon or two of brandy, whisky or orange juice. Wrap the cake in greaseproof paper, then foil, and store it in an airtight tin somewhere cool. Feed it every fortnight or so, and it will keep for up to three months — longer if you are generous with the spirit. If you prefer an alcohol-free cake, warm marmalade loosened with a little water works beautifully and gives a pleasing bittersweet glaze.

Cutting In When Visitors Arrive

Serve it in thin slices, please, not wedges. A plate of fruit cake alongside a pot of strong tea is the standard, but a sliver of Wensleydale or crumbly Cheshire on the side turns it into something people talk about on the walk home. On a cold afternoon, warm a slice in a low oven for five minutes and butter it, which sounds odd and is quite wonderful. Once cut, the cake keeps for a fortnight in a tin, so there is no need to finish it in one sitting — which is, in the end, the whole point of baking it in the first place.