Christmas is
always about past and present. Today’s celebrations are inextricably linked to
the sights, sounds, smells and people of bygone holidays.
Every
yuletide, my brothers and I recall the Goodyear Christmas Album – received as a
“premium” at the local tire store – which was the musical accompaniment to our
holidays when we were young. I can still
hear Robert Goulet crooning “Do You Hear What I Hear?”
I can look
at this year’s Christmas tree and touch the very first Christmas ornaments my
Mom and Dad gave me for the tree in my first apartment.
And, then
there’s the visions of sugar plums - the baking starts early, always grounded
in delicious memories – Mom’s Angel Food Cake, Aunt Greta’s Stollen, Zany’s Cinnamon Buns or Nana’s Sand Cookies.
And, one can
never forget the visits from holiday spirits.
I was not
familiar with Truman Capote’s short memoir, “A Christmas Memory,” but saw it
performed as a musical in early December at the Irish Repertory Theater in New
York City. It is a story from Truman’s childhood in the South, when he was known
as “Buddy.” He grew up living with an elderly distant cousin named Sook, whom
he describes as his best friend and “still a child.”
Every year,
Cousin Sook would look out the window on a cold, clear day in November and say,
“It’s fruitcake weather.” Thus began the
annual ritual of baking dozens of fruitcakes to give as gifts to friends,
family and even celebrities. The story
is filled with the wonder of a youngster embracing the rituals and magic of the
Christmas holidays. I’m intrigued by the notion of a fruitcake tradition, and I
decide to give it a try.
It’s not
quite fruitcake weather, but the blustery rain is good weather for ducks. Early
Saturday, I shop for ingredients. While Buddy and Sook nearly exhaust their
funds buying ingredients, they would have been shocked at today’s prices for
dried fruit.
They frugally gather pecans off the ground, a wise strategy as in
our era, pecan halves are running $16.99 a pound.
In the
story, Sook and Buddy approach the local bootlegger for their whisky, an
essential ingredient in the fruitcake. With no local bootlegger in sight, I
consider using one of our fine Long Island local whiskeys, but Truman was a Southerner,
so Jack Daniels seems like the obvious choice. Fortunately, Jack has a recipe for Classic
Christmas Fruitcake, too.
Besides,
Jack and I have had a long association.
The aromas
of fruit, orange and whisky fill the house, and I am reminded of the people and
pleasures that have graced my many Christmases.
When their
cakes are complete – thirty-one in total – Buddy and Sook have a mad moment and
drink the remaining whisky (Buddy is seven years old). My three cakes are just fine for my purposes
and it’s a little early in the day for me for a nip, so I’m perfectly happy
with the spirited aroma.
Now wrapped
in whisky soaked cheesecloth, these little beauties are tucked away in the
refrigerator ready to make some new holiday memories come December 25th.
Happy
Christmas to all, and happy memories past and present.
