Cake tins and Christmas

It’s that time of year again. The point where the days speed up, so one minute it’s the autumnal equinox, then it’s time for the clocks to go back in late October. And, before you know it, it’s watch out for ghosts, get out the fireworks, on with the British Legion poppy and then suddenly we’re in the middle of November and hurtling towards Christmas at breakneck speed. When I was small, I would start my Christmas preparations weeks in advance, in the hope that this would somehow hurry up the arrival of my favourite time of year. It never did and my fevered anticipation was sometimes almost unbearable. Would Christmas never come?

I have the opposite experience these days. Christmas rushes up like an eager puppy hearing the first rattle of biscuits. The only answer is to get myself ahead of the game. So I’ve already baked two Christmas cakes, and now they’re cosily encased in greaseproof paper and stashed away to mature. Two cakes? It’s not because we eat Christmas cake uncontrollably in this house (although there was one notable Christmas when we’d already eaten the entire cake before the big day arrived) but because I give one away.

Each year, for the past twenty-five years, I’ve baked my Christmas cake in the square tin that used to belong to my grandmother. She was a brilliant baker and I always hope that some of her culinary art will rub off on me. After she died, my grandfather immersed himself in her cookery books and began to bake fantastic cakes as well. So every year, when I fish that square tin out of the back of the kitchen cupboard, I think of them both. It would be unimaginable not to use their tin to bake the Christmas cake – it’s an important part of my Christmas traditions. But this year, when the first cake had finished baking, there was a puddle of melted butter on the floor of the oven. One corner of my beloved old cake tin must have a tiny hole in it. Which means I should really get rid of it and buy a replacement. After all, that tin is at least forty years old, if not more. But somehow it’s almost part of the family. I may have to retire it from active service but I don’t think I can bear to chuck it out completely. Somehow, that would be cruel.