Category: Uncategorized

  • The Historical Society

    Sara stood, leaning over Bryce’s shoulder to take in the sketch he’d found. “Do you really think I can pull this off?” she questioned, feeling unsure.

    “We don’t have a choice. Besides, it has to be a woman, and you’re the only one around here with brains and balls,” he grinned at her, “You can do it, Sara, I know you can. Just stay focused on the mission. Get in, find the papers, and get back out. The less people you talk to, the better off you’ll be. If you get into any trouble, hit the panic button and I’ll be there in less than a minute.”

    She sighed. This was the first mission she’d ever gone on by herself. Up till now, it’d always been her and Bryce, the Dynamic Duo they called them. They had been childhood friends, college roommates, and partners for the past seven years for the Historical Society. Time and again they went back in history, filling in the blanks. They’d seen the Great Sphinx during construction and brought pictures of the missing colors and facial features, so that it could be restored to its original splendor. They had cried together as they watched helplessly in the Nazi concentration camps, and had stood in awe as they watched Moses part the Red Sea and walk through on dry sand. They’d seen the world through the ages together, and it had been wonderful and terrifying.

    There was a knock on the door and Cloe stuck her head in. “Your costume is ready and I can do your hair when you like.”

    “Thanks, Cloe, I’ll be there in a moment.”

    The door shut and she closed her eyes, trying to steady herself. She would be going back in history to 1892 to gather information about the depression and the newly re-elected president, Grover Cleveland. It was not a particularly dangerous mission; in fact, it would probably be dull in comparison to their usual journeys. The only thing troubling her was the fact that she’d be alone. Alone in a way she’d never been alone before. The only person in the world not from that time.

    She shook herself a bit and plastered on a fake smile. “Need to get dressed, see you at the time pit!” she said and ruffled Bryce’s hair a bit.

    An hour later she stood on the platform ready for transport. He stood next to the control desk and they locked eyes. They held eye contact till the room started to loose focus. When she opened her eyes again she was looking at the White House, one hundred and seventy four years in the past.

  • Old Photographs and Possibilities…

    Do you ever wonder what the people in your old family photos were like? The people you never met, but they grace your family tree somewhere way back early in the 20th century or late 19th century.

    I do! I am interested in what made my grandparents, great grandparents and their siblings tick. What were their personalities like? Who did they love? What talents did they have? What kind of furniture did they like? What were their favorite foods? What clothes did they like to wear?

    Who were these people tucked away in my family album? I guess I will never know who they really were. Some I know by name, others not, some I met when I was a very little girl. There is no one left to tell me their stories. Even if I could find out all the technical things about them, I will never know their personal stories.

    As much as I think it sad that I will never know who they were as individuals, it is intriguing to wonder about them. To look into their eyes pondering their hidden personalities and quirks, brings me closer to them and keeps me from them at the same time. Touching the photographs, knowing that they would have held them is a link from now to the past but a very weak link at best. I wonder what they thought when they admired their photos? Did they like the way they looked, did they even think about that sort of thing? I believe they would have had thoughts on that subject, being human we all either love or hate what we look like in our captured images.

    I enjoy looking at their clothing, the styles they chose to wear for the photographs are indicative of the era the images were taken in. The photographs I have included are of both sides of my family. The large wedding photo is of my Uncle and Aunt’s wedding with their respective families. The room the photo is taken in was the study in my paternal grandparent’s home. I spent time in that room when I was very young and that makes this picture all the more special. I never met my grandfather but have fond,vague memories of my grandmother. I love my Aunt’s wedding dress, this would have to be my favorite photo of all the old ones I have.

    The second wedding photo is of my Mother’s parents, neither of which I’ve met.
    They were an interesting couple, my mum told me a little about them and their wedding finery did not match their station in life. By that I mean they were share farmers and poor. Looking at their apparel would not give any indication to the viewer about that fact of their life.

    That brings me right back to my first thoughts, who are these people really? My imagination takes flight when I look at them and I think of the many stories that could be written, just by imagining what their personalities and lives were like. These people have become the faces of characters playing on the stage of life. They loved, fought, raised children, watched them live their lives, died and their stories are gone forever. The perpetual cycle of Life! This could be morbid. I hope not, I hope it adds inspiration for another way of weaving stories about love and life.

  • Wiley Wednesday: By Hand vs. The Keyboard

    By Hand vs. The Keyboard
    by A. Catherine Noon

    There’s an old debate in writers’ circles between those who compose with a keyboard and those who compose with a pen. I suppose in today’s internet era it might seem like a moot point, but I figured I’d speak up for those of us Luddites out here. (Yes, well, Neo-Neo-Luddites. But I digress.) Despite the ascendancy of blogging and texting and all the mobile foufera of today’s computer-literate society (say, for example, the Gentle Reader who is reading this on our blog), the pen has not given up its place in the sun just yet.

    Who composes with a pen? Some writers admit to writing entire manuscripts by hand in their first draft. Some even use that most ancient implement, the typewriter, to create their masterpieces – the sound of the clickety-clack soothing to their inner artist, the keys like candy to their Muse. Some insist they must only use the computer and a word processing program, “because of automatic spell-check, you see.”

    Interesting. All worthy ideas, all from writers not just sharing private thoughts with an intimate audience, but august personages for whose work the public will pay good money. So who’s right? Is the pen mightier than the sword? Or is ink and paper destined to go the way of the horse and cart, used only by zealots and those who haven’t yet heard technology’s siren-call?

    My honest answer as a writer is that I use both. Perhaps how I use them will be enlightening to other writers so I share them here, in the hopes that others might be inspired, as I have been, to try different methods of coaxing words onto paper, the ultimate bent of any writer (at least until eBooks changes the whole industry and books go the way of the horse and cart, used only by… or did I say that already?).

    The Pen

    I use my pen and paper for many tasks. First and foremost are my Morning Pages. Written about by Julia Cameron in her books, most notably The Artist’s Way, Morning Pages are three pages of longhand writing, written in the morning (perhaps, some wag might wonder, giving rise to the name “Morning” Pages?). Since the pen and size of the paper (standard letter size) are specified, it might be of note to share what form my pages take. I’ve used all sorts of things – cheap, spiral-bound notebooks from the dollar store; bound journals blank and unlined (which I liked because I could add sketches); regular college-ruled notebooks like what I used in, well, college. What I have learned surprised me: first, use something UNfancy. Fancy journals lead us to want to write fancy thoughts. Morning pages aren’t meant to be fancy, they’re meant to be three pages of longhand writing, written in the morning. Nope, don’t see fancy in those instructions, do you? Second, I learned that I liked UNlined books. Sure, I’ll use lined notebooks because they’re cheap and easy to find. But when I was forced for economy to use something I found in the giveaway box, the resultant blank journal without lines lead me to realize I like to sketch. I also realized that the very size and direction of my writing changed based on my mood. Some days, my letters were neat and orderly. Others, they were large and untidy. One day, I wrote in a spiral from the outside corner to the center. It gave me freedom to explore.

    You might want to try it yourself, one day.

    Another thing I use my handwritten journal for is, well, what I call “Journal Work.” By this, I mean answering questions and tasks for the Artist’s Way, Walking In This World, (both books by Julia Cameron), and other like-minded material. I’ll use it to talk to myself on the train to and from work, to catch hold of ideas. I’ll write down poems and fragments of thoughts, knitting design ideas and dinner plans.

    A third thing I use it for is to tell myself stories. Many first drafts of stories I’ve written are to be found in my journals. I’ve written a continuous journal since 1995 and before that I have many journals, split up by time, back to the age of nine. I have story fragments and poetry all through them. I find it enjoyable to sit on a train, or at lunch, and tell myself stories – almost as enjoyable as reading a book, in fact. I just do it for the fun of it, because I enjoy the worlds I see in my mind’s eye, the theater of the imagination. Some of these stories I’ve later published, some just stay in my journal waiting. Waiting for what? Not sure yet. But at least they’re written.

    You might want to try it yourself, one day.

    The Keyboard

    I use my keyboard for many tasks. In fact, I recently purchased a used AlphaSmart, a portable keyboard. It doesn’t have automatic spell-check the way my MS Word does, but it allows me to type on the train. I discovered two things by this method – one, I write a helluva lot in the hour I’m forced to sit there; and two, carpal tunnel syndrome isn’t just for secretaries. So if you get one, make sure you do your hand exercises, or you’ll be hurtin’.

    I use my computer for a number of tasks. First, a word as to platform – I am a dual-platform user, and have been since I learned to use the computer. I own both a Mac and a PC and have equal facility on both. I make my living by the computer, and in my industry the computer of choice is and always has been the PC. I like the Mac better, which is why I own one. But honestly, there’s not a whole lot of difference in the interface in terms of the word processing program of MS Word. I am an MS Office power user, so I don’t fiddle with the other programs available, but if you use or want to check out the other ones available to you, go for it. The creation is in the writer, not the software, no matter what ads in writing magazines say.

    I love to write stories on the computer. Once I have a specific story in mind, I find it easy to use the computer to compose. I like being able to have headings for my chapters that will build an automatic table of contents. I like being able to use that table of contents to bounce around my story by hyperlink. Since I’m a novelist, my stories are long. Being able to move through them quickly is very helpful.

    Synthesis

    I suppose that is a good distinction, for me anyway – I use the computer for specific ideas (i.e. left brain approach). I use my journal for noodling, fiddling with story ideas, and directionless dreaming (i.e. right brain approach). While I can force a computer to think like me, it’s still much easier to do it by hand. I can just write a stream of consciousness in a continuous line, making catch-notes in the margin if necessary (like, “Work in Progress,” or “To-Do List”) for things I need to be sure to come back to. Writing by hand lets me just get what’s in my head out where I can look at it. Composing by computer lets me go from point A to point B, J, and Z fairly quickly and efficiently. If I want to skip to Chapter Ten and write that, then come back to Chapters Five through Eight, I can do that easily. I can keep track of what chapters I’ve done by updating the table of contents. That sort of functions like an outline as I’m writing, so I know where I’ve been and where I’m trying to go.

    You might want to try it yourself, one day. Or come up with a method that works for you. I suppose that’s the most important moral of the story – not what I do, but what you as a writer might do.

    And that, boys and girls, is a project worth working on.

  • No Rest for the Witches – Review

    This is a title I picked up to get a sampling of different authors, and look into St. Martin’s Press. My thoughts on each novella below . . .

    MaryJanice Davidson
    “The Majicka”
    Life’s a bit crowded for Ireland and her roommates—a fairy, a werewolf, a vampire, and now a zombie…especially when a mysterious man walks through the door. Will there be any room left for love?

    I’m not usually a fan of the ‘light and quirky’ side of paranormal romance. I like it dark and angsty. The fact that I enjoyed this story so much is a testament to MaryJanice Davidson’s ability. The fact that I picked up another one of her books because of it is ‘off the charts’ unusual. Okay, I’m exagerrating. But still, I liked it very much. I think it was the sheer boldness of the voice, the inventiveness of her ‘version’ of some very old and overdone ideas, and the cast of delightful characters. She didn’t convert me from my angsty roots, but she certainly entertained me.

    Lori Handeland
    “Voodoo Moon”
    For Devil’s Fork–based FBI Agent Dana Duran, the only way to fight a supernatural serial killer just may be to embrace life. But little did she know that voodoo could be so viciously sexy…

    This was more along the lines of what I picked up this book for. Again, Ms. Handeland was a new author to me. I will definitely be picking up another title of hers. The premise was along the lines of what I like, the mystery and tension held through most of the story. The hero was dark and sexy and muchos wantable, the heroine I could relate to. The only place this story failed in my eyes was the ‘lets have sex to save the world’ ploy. Because of that, I undergrade it, because an author of Ms. Handeland’s talent should know better.

    Cheyenne McCray
    “Breath of Magic”
    San Francisco’s witches are in an epic battle. But even if Sydney can use her sultry ways and ancient Druid powers to save the world, can she risk losing her heart to handsome warrior Conlan?

    This one started off good. I was intrigued, but quickly lost interest. I’m not sure what it was specifically, but for some reason, it didn’t ring true to me. It felt forced, and the attraction between the two characters was over-emphasized. I kept expecting to read about heaving bosoms. The purple prose kicked me out, and I didn’t actually finish. Perhaps the world building that interested me at the beginning would have pulled me back in, but short on time, I didn’t give it a chance.

    Christine Warren
    “Any Witch Way She Can”
    A desperately lonely witch decides to take matters of love into her own hands when she casts a cosmic personal ad…only to find that the perfect formula for love is a strange brew indeed.

    What I liked most about this story is that it did what most novellas should, in my opinion – it focused on character development and not plot. Yes, a novella needs a mechanism or catalyst to make things happen, but it doesn’t need a full novel’s worth of plot. I liked that Ms. Warren set up one event, and the fallout that ensued threw the two characters together. She made them real, I could relate to them and understand their choices. Also, I thoroughly enjoyed the heroine in this piece, and the hero definitely had me hot under the collar. Just when I thought I had maybe wasted my money, this piece redeemed the St. Martin’s editors in my eyes. I’ll be checking out Ms. Warren’s other works.

  • MAY FLASH FICTION CARNIVAL

    MAY FLASH FICTION CARNIVAL

    DISGUISES

    Thank you to our three loyal participants in this month’s Flash Fiction Carnival:


    The Wrong Kind of Fantasy – Susan Helene Gottfried

    Dagget – Unhinged

    The Russian Jades, Chapter 2 – A. Catherine Noon

  • A character’s astrological personality

    Have you ever searched the phone book, your book shelf, or read movie credits in search of a perfect character name? Or maybe the Kabalarian Philosophy and other sites like this?

    I have and I’m not ashamed to admit it.

    stomps foot

    When I was a teenybopper hunched over my kiddie tea table and making hen tracks across college-ruled notebook paper, I relied on the force of a name to reveal personality. It was enough for me back then–when I was fourteen. I had such fun before the rules of writing began feeling like a wedgie.

    I miss those days. I really do.

    Now I know a name isn’t a personality–I need more than just a name. Character worksheets don’t help. Statistics don’t help. Cutting out actor’s faces and taping them to the corner of my computer monitor kind of helps.

    Writing flashes help.

    But.

    But before I start considering eye color, hair length or body weight, I consult my 1978 dog-eared copy of Linda Goodman’s LOVE SIGNS and page number 13: The Twelve Initiations of Love. I am a romance writer, but I’m sure this could work for any genre. Whether you’re writing fantasy, sci-fi or mystery, generally people want the same thing. Linda Goodman wrote it like this:

    “Love is man’s and woman’s deepest need. It’s not the threat of illness or poverty that crushes the human spirit, but the fear that there is no one who truly cares–no one who really understands.”

    Based on her The Twelve Initiations of Love, I’ll use my heroine, Shaine, as an example.

    I knew enough about the story I wanted to write to know how certain life experiences caused Shaine to grow up distrustful, guarded and reticent–but that she’s more than a wallflower. Still, she had a lesson to learn and a lesson to teach (as we all do), which helped define her character for me.

    After careful consideration of page 12, which is an astrological basic definition of mystery/love nature, I decided Shaine is a Virgo. She was born knowing love is pure, she feels it, demonstrates it easily, but she needs to learn that love is also fulfillment. However, I imagined her life as being an unconscious struggle with this.

    Deciding she was a Virgo was easy–the words damn near leaped off the page in boldface type at me. Not to mention, her Virgo-ness should help me enrich the rest of her characterization, especially when I’m unsure about how she’d react to someone, or in a certain unsavory situation.

    Once I decide on an astrological sign for my heroine, I go after my hero. Capricorns are experienced, mature and know that love is wisdom. Well, that was Daren all over, I thought.

    Imagine my surprise when I looked up the love component of these two sign’s compatibility. It was coincidence, but I’ll take it as a sign, oh yeah.

    According to Linda Goodman:

    …Both Virgo and Capricorn are emotionally guided in their love relationship by the 5-9 Sun Sign Pattern, the most basically compatible vibration the planets see fit to bestow upon mortals.

    And there I go, almost without trying. I’ve got oodles of examples and reasons for those examples in my trusty dog-eared book.

    ~*~*~*~

    To recap: I had a glimmer of an idea of who my two main characters are, chose an astrological sign based on my ideas, the better to refer to Linda Goodman’s SUN SIGNS when in doubt about their actions or reactions with each other and in life. Simplistic? Maybe. But whatever works for me, in my opinion.

    Linda Goodman covers all the basics, almost anything you need to know about the interaction between a female Virgo and a male Capricorn–as co-workers, relatives, or lovers. And in a wonderfully engaging voice, as if she’s sitting across from you at the table, trading smiles and confidences over Bailey’s laced coffee.

    Since the early 1980s, I’ve been referring to Linda Goodman’s LOVE SIGNS.

    Dreaming.

    Imagining.

    Admiring her lyrical writer’s voice.

    You should see this book. It’s absolutely fascinating.

    But don’t take my word for it.

    ~*~*~*~

    Andi (Unhinged) is an Aries who was born to teach that love is innocence, and to learn that love is trust.

  • The Night Is A Harsh Mistress, Chapter 5, by A. Catherine Noon

    The Night Is A Harsh Mistress

    Chapter 5

    Rachel gaped at Viktor, until her legs cramped against the edge of the couch. She sat back, feeling pole axed. “What are you saying?”

    Viktor tossed the papers back on the desk. One of the photos of David slipped forward a little and she could see it, upside down.

    “Doug and Constance Greene are not that boy’s parents,” Viktor repeated. “That isn’t even their name, I would wager.”

    “Then why would he be worried for them?” Rachel counted. “When he called me, that’s the first thing he asked.”

    Viktor just studied her. His blue eyes, clear like sapphires and about as warm, didn’t blink. She couldn’t even be sure he was breathing, except the smoke from his cigarette moved around him. She wanted to ask him for one, but his manner intimidated her.

    “He called you?” Viktor asked finally. “Where? Here, or your mobile?”

    “Here, why?” she asked. “It’s a public number, Viktor. Why the intrigue?”

    His expression changed and she realized he thought her naïve. “If he is a prisoner of someone, how could he find your number? If he is a runaway, why would he know you are looking for him?”

    She stared at him, feeling unfriendly. Part of that was because those were good questions, and partly because she didn’t have the answer to them. “So why are you involved?”

    “You need to be careful, Rachel,” Viktor responded. “There is more going on here than you know.”

    She felt a chill. “Viktor…”

    He stood, startling her. “I must go. But be careful. Lay low on this case for now. Just a few days, okay?”

    She stood, facing him. “Viktor, it’s not like I can just stop – ”

    “You’ve got two other cases. Take your pictures and let this go for now.”

    It was only after he’d left that she thought to wonder how he knew what her other two cases were.

    “Dammit,” she muttered, locking the door to the office. She sat down at the desk and realized she’d forgotten to ask Viktor for a cigarette. The scent of his tobacco was still strong around her chair and she breathed deeply. She wanted to quit, maybe she should just bite the bullet and not buy any more. They just smelled so good…

    Idly, she fished out the picture of David from the folder where it lay on the desk. A shock of unruly dark hair topped a young face, innocent and clean of whiskers. She pulled the photo closer, trying to see if there was any sign of stubble or if David’s whiskers just hadn’t grown in yet, but she couldn’t tell. His eyes were a clear hazel greenish brown, a bit of yellow right around the irises. A light band of freckles dusted his nose, a small, pert thing that seemed almost like an afterthought. His mouth was wide and his teeth white as he smiled, but his eyes remained serious. She wondered about the photo. Constance Greene had given it to her as though she was handing over something precious.

    If it was an act, it was a good one.

  • Tragic Lit – an interesting genre

    From CR Blog.

    Borders bookshop has a “Real Lives” section. Waterstones ups the ante with “Painful Lives”. Amazon’s catch-all is the more enigmatic “True Endurance and Survival”. But earlier this week I found myself in the “Tragic Life Stories” aisle of WHSmiths. After taking in that, yes, a whole section of shelving had actually been given over to this subject, it struck me that while each book pertained to be a traumatic tale of an individual, they were marketed in such a way as to look entirely the same. Unlike the covers within the nearby Crime section, where even the most conventional might feature a gun, a knife, or something vaguely noir-ish; within Tragic Life Stories there is, apparently, no need to differentiate details. Each one is a tragic tale; each one has the same cover: a child’s face and a scrawled, handwritten title.

    While the genre itself isn’t particularly new – the book said to have launched this market, Dave Pelzer’s A Child Called It, came out in the mid-90s – WHSmiths have seemingly only carried a Tragic Life Stories section since the start of last year. But now “misery lit”, the industry term apparently coined by The Bookseller magazine, is big, big business.

    And the repetitious design aesthetic is there for a reason; namely, that the people that like this stuff will know what to look for. The title, usually handwritten, often scrawled, has something of the confessional about it; while the supporting image of an aggrieved child looks out with doe eyes (though rarely is this, of course, the actual victim or author – models are frequently used).

    Esther Addley, writing on the subject in the Guardian, put it succinctly: “the volumes invariably carry a washed-out close-up of a particularly pretty child’s face on a pale background, with the title of the book in handwritten script. As Peter Saxton, biography buyer for Waterstone’s [says]: ‘White cover, swirly writing, big-eyed child. These are the visual clues that tell prospective buyers that they are going to be in their comfort (or discomfort) zone’.”

    Addley also goes on to look at the nature of the titles of the books themselves: “In the UK at least, these increasingly follow one of two paths: the dramatic past participle (Wasted, Abandoned, Damaged) or the more discursive, directly heartstring-tugging phrase (Daddy’s Little Girl; Don’t Tell Mummy; Please, Daddy, No).”

    But there are signs of a growing backlash against Misery Lit. While authors who obtained book deals and, indeed, notoriety and sales through their stories of pain and misery have been exposed as fakes (see JT LeRoy and James Frey’s efforts), there have recently been even more high profile exposés: Kathy O’Beirne’s memoir, Kathy’s Story: A Childhood Hell Inside the Magdalene Laundries was recently revealed as fictitious; as was Misha Defonseca’s, Surviving With Wolves, which in a crude nod to Frank’s writings was billed as “the most extraordinary story of World War II”.

    Interesting indeed. But, not a section I’ll be running to next time I’m in my local Borders, I think.

  • What Happens in Vegas…

    What Happens in Vegas…

    It’s purely coincidence that a movie with this title opened in theaters the very day that I went to Las Vegas last week. And I am going to break with this tradition and tell you about the things I saw and did while I was there.

    Creature comforts are plentiful in ‘Sin City’-every hotel boasts a swimming pool, a buffet, spa, and, oh yes, it’s own casino. It’s quite easy to indulge oneself in every way without even leaving your hotel. But if you should choose to wander ‘The Strip’, Las Vegas’ main street that is lined with the largest casinos, I have some recommendations of sights you may want to see.

    Start at Treasure Island, a pirate themed casino. Each night they stage a live action show featuring three full sized pirate ships that wage war on each other, complete with plenty of swordplay and booming cannon fire.

    Immediately next door, the Mirage has a volcano that goes off once an hour after dark. Lava spews from the mountain and spreads across a verdant oasis in a mock eruption. It’s quite impressive to watch.

    Walk a short way south to the Bellagio and you can enjoy the ‘Dancing Waters’ show.
    Every half hour the fountains in front of the hotel will perform to a beautiful piece of classical music. Each presentation is different, new music and new choreography. An added benefit is the cool mist coming off the water while you watch under the hot desert sun.

    Farther away, in the old part of Las Vegas, you can find the ‘Fremont Street Experience’. For three city blocks, the area covering Fremont Street is covered with a canopy of lights that project a music video each hour. The shows are clever, featuring loud music and scantily dressed dancers. The enclosed area, with casinos on each side, reminded me of Mardi Gras in New Orleans with its party like atmosphere.

    While I was wandering through Fremont Street, I happened on a live performance of the band Everclear, they were singing for the Miss Hawaiian Tropic beauty pageant on a stage set up in the middle of the street. Hundreds of beautiful and tan bikini clad women filled the stage between their sets and signed autographs before and after the taping of the ‘live show’.

    Well there you have it, what happened in Vegas last weekend. I am sure there are millions of things I missed but each of these activities I mentioned is completely free. The trick is to get past the millions of slot machines and table games without spending your life savings.

  • Promised Recipes

    Traditional Christmas Cake and Fruit Pudding

    I awoke this morning to the thought “I must give Kat Oxley the Christmas cake and Pudding recipes I promised her months ago, and it will be my blog for Friday 16th.”
    I awoke fully and thought, “I can’t blog that” then thought, “Of course I can.”

    Some might say I am months too early, but in reality I am not.
    These recipes have ingredients that may be unusual or difficult to get and I may have to supply more information or even supply some of them; for the more adventurous cooks brave enough to take up the challenge. The cake and pudding can be made up to 6 – 8 weeks ahead as long as brandy or whiskey, are used in the mixture. The alcohol gives the finished cakes their long storage life and very rich flavor.

    The reason I offered Kat these recipes in the first place is because these types of celebration cakes are not typical Christmas fair everywhere in America, or so Kat and Evilynne told me. And the cakes and puddings are so delicious, I wanted to share them.

    Traditional Fruitcake



    From the brandy-soaked fruit to the touch of spice, this classic Christmas cake has it all.
    Serves: 30
    Prep: 30 minutes (plus 6 hours macerating & overnight cooling time)
    Cooking: 3 ½ hours

    Ingredients:

    500 gms sultanas (dried grapes)
    1x375gm pkt raising, coarsely chopped
    3x100gms pkt mixed glace cherries, coarsely chopped
    1×300 gm pkt currants
    250ml 1cup brandy
    Melted butter, to grease
    250gm butter, at room temperature
    155 gm (3/4 cup, firmly packed) brown sugar
    4 eggs, at room temperature
    115gm (1/3 cup) breakfast marmalade
    300gm (2 cups) plain flour
    75gm (1/2 cup) self-raising flour
    1 tspn mixed spice
    Blanched almonds, to decorate
    80ml (1/3 cup) brandy, extra

    Method:

    1. Combine the sultanas, raisins, cherries, currants and brandy in a large glass or ceramic bowl. Cover with plastic wrap and set aside, stirring occasionally, for 6 hours to macerate.

    2. Preheat oven to 150 degrees C. Brush a round 22cm (base measurement) cake pan with melted butter to lightly grease. Line the base and sides with 2 layers of non-stick baking paper to reach 6 cm above the edge of the pan.

    3. Use an electric beater to beat the butter and sugar in a bowl. Add the eggs, 1 at a time, beating well after each addition until combined (the mixture may curdle at this stage – this is due to the high proportion of eggs to butter and doesn’t affect the result). Add the marmalade and beat until well combined. Add the combined flour and mixed spice, and fold until just combined. Stir in the sultana mixture. Spoon into prepared pan and smooth the surface. Tap the pan on the bench top to settle the mixture. Arrange the almonds overt the top.

    4. Wrap the outside of the pan with 3 layers of brown paper, rising slightly higher than the baking paper. Secure with kitchen string. Bake, covering with tin foil if necessary to prevent over browning, for 3 ½ hours or until skewer inserted into the centre comes out clean.

    5. Pour the extra brandy over the hot cake. Wrap the pan in a clean tea towel and set aside overnight to cool completely. Serve.


    Traditional Plum Pudding


    With this custard-coated steamed pudding on your spoon, your Christmas feast is complete.
    Serves: 12
    Prep: 20 minutes (+ 6 hours macerating and 5 minutes resting time)
    Cooking: 4 hours

    Ingredients

    350 gms raisins, coarsely chopped
    300 gms sultanas
    1×300 gm pkt currants
    185 ml (3/4 cup) rum or brandy
    Melted butter, to grease
    200 gm butter, at room temperature
    200 gm (1 cup, firmly packed) brown sugar
    4 eggs, at room temperature
    140gm (2 cups) fresh bread crumbs
    (made from day-old bread)
    115gm (3/4 cup) plain flour
    75 gm (1/2 cup) self-raising flour
    1 tsp ground nutmeg
    1tsp ground cinnamon
    Bought, vanilla custard; warmed, to serve.

    Method:

    1. Place raisins, sultanas and currants
    in a glass or ceramic bowl. Stir in the rum or brandy.
    Cover and set aside, stirring every few hours, for 6 hours to macerate.

    2. Brush a 2Litre (8 cup) capacity pudding basin with melted butter to grease. Line the base with non-stick baking paper.

    3. Use an electric beater to beat the butter and sugar in a large bowl until pale and creamy. Add the eggs, 1 at a time, beating well after each addition. Stir in the breadcrumbs, combined flour, nutmeg and cinnamon. Add the raisin mixture and stir to combine. Spoon into the prepared basin. Smooth the surface.

    4. Place an upturned heatproof saucer in the base of a large saucepan. Fill one-third of the saucepan with boiling water. Bring to a simmer over low heat.

    5. Cut a 30cm-square piece on non-stick baking paper and a 30cm-square piece of foil. Place the paper on top of the foil and fold to make a wide pleat in the centre. Place over the basin, foil-side up. The double piece of kitchen string under the rim of the basin to secure foil. To make a handle, tie a double piece of string loosely over the top of the basin. Scrunch the paper and foil around the rim so they don’t get wet.

    6. Use the handle to lower the basin onto the saucer in the saucepan. Add enough boiling water to reach two-thirds of the way up the side of the basin.

    7. Simmer, covered adding more boiling water when necessary, for 4 hours or until a skewer inserted into the of the pudding comes out clean.

    8. Set aside for 5 minutes before turning out onto a serving plate. Cut into wedges and serve with warm custard.

    And after typing this up, I realized why I don’t cook these delectable dishes myself…what an enormous amount of work. I guess if you are an adventurous cook, they will appeal to you. If not, hide these recipes way in back of your recipe file and take them out once in a while and remember where they came from; hopefully with an affectionate smile!

    With Love,
    Byz 🙂