A Christmas present direct from royalty, just for you

The Queen Mother’s Christmas Cake

I’ve never been much of a Christmas cake fan. As far as I’m concerned, the best justification for it is the schooner of sherry or ginger wine which, in sensible households, you’re offered along with a slice. 

To wash it down, I imagine. At the very first swallow, Christmas cake slumps into the stomach like wet sand tipped from a child’s seaside bucket and sits there until the last of the twelve days of Christmas.

Add to this the stupendous and long-drawn out effort involved in the baking of a Christmas cake, with its fine chopping of nuts and flavourless coloured rind, and the reviving souse in alcohol of raisins, currants and sultanas. (Who knew the juicy grape was responsible for so many varieties of gnarled fruit gravel?) 

You are supposed to construct the cake weeks in advance while autumn leaves are still jaunty flags clinging valiantly to trees, when the last thing you want to think about is weather cold and wet or shopping for inventive presents for people whose gifts to you won’t be half as imaginative as yours. Next, the cake must be regularly fed with as much whisky or brandy as it can absorb - whisky or brandy it would be far more advantageous to feed directly to yourself. 

Apparently, this all helps it mature. Why would a cake be obliged to mature? Not many people do.

I offer you an alternative to the traditional Christmas cake, a fruit cake recipe so unexpectedly light and delicious it will win over anyone who doesn’t like the dense classic or who has left it too late to construct a Christmas cake for the coming festivities. You could wait until the day before to make it - if you’ve a mind to spend Christmas Eve baking, along with everything else you’re likely to be in a panic to complete before the day of the feast.

And here’s the bonus for monarchists: The cake is said to be the late Queen Mother’s Favourite Fruit Cake. Buckingham Palace refutes this lovely rumour. This is a shame, as the Queen Mum was also said to have insisted that the recipe only be passed on if the recipient promised to pay one shilling to charity. Another reason the Palace should consider claiming the recipe as the Queen Mum's is the impressive age she achieved before she died. 

Since we're told we are what we eat, I went online to learn more about the Queen Mum's diet. A brief squint at the food retailers on whom she bestowed her Royal Warranty reveals all. These give the right to state a business is operating 'By Appointment to Her Majesty' (or whichever royal granted it) and to display above its entrance a massive shield such as the one seen above Harrods' doors - until royal approval for the store waned and it was removed. 

The 101 year-old Queen Mum had given her blessing to several purveyors of the following comestibles: gin, tonic, whisky, champagne, chocolates, bacon, sausages, biscuits, and the makers of dozens of other products with similar health benefits. I rest my case.

Unlike the standard Christmas fruit cake, the Queen Mum's doesn’t demand weeks of whisky feeding and maturing. Nor do you need to cover it with marzipan and white, teeth-chipping, concrete icing, although its optional topping just about passes for a melting snow drift, so feel free to stick on a Father Christmas, reindeer and sleigh. 

If you don’t ice it, you could try the delicious north of England Christmas cake practice of serving a helping of hearty Cheddar or Wensleydale cheese alongside. Eat a slice with a glass of sherry or ginger wine. And put a coin in a charity tin.

For the cake

225g/8oz dried dates, chopped
1 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon baking powder
50g/2oz dried walnuts, roughly chopped
275g/9oz plain flour
225g/8oz caster sugar
1 large egg, beaten
75g/3oz butter

For the icing

5 tablespoons brown sugar
2 tablespoons cream
2 tablespoons butter

Grease and line a 23cm x 23cm/9ins x 9 ins square tin. Heat oven to 180C/350F. 

To make the cake:

Put the chopped dates in a bowl and pour over a breakfast cup of boiling water. Add the bicarbonate of soda and stir in. Set aside.
Cream the butter with the sugar in another bowl. Beat in the egg and vanilla.
Sieve together the flour, baking powder and salt. Add to the butter, sugar and egg mix, then the dates and incorporate well.
Scrape the batter into the baking pan and spread it right to the edges.
Bake the cake in the centre of the oven for 35 minutes or until a skewer comes out clean.

To make the topping: 

In a small heavy saucepan, melt the butter, brown sugar and cream over a low heat.
Bring the mixture to the boil and boil gently for 3 minutes, stirring all the time.
Pour over the warm cake.
When cool, store in an airtight tin.