British Eccles Cakes

A plate of seven eccles cakes next to a cup of tea on a white background.

TODAY’S MUSINGS:

Yes, I’ll admit it—I’m a bit of an Anglophile. With the holidays just around the corner, I don’t simply dream of a white Christmas, but a Dickensian one. I picture Victorian carolers strolling snow-covered cobblestone streets, a cozy Cotswold cottage aglow with candlelight and scented by the aromas of crackling roast goose and steamy figgy pudding. I imagine pulling Christmas crackers with family and friends around the table and nibbling treats like these very British Eccles cakes.

TODAY’S RECIPE:

Though the Eccles cake predates Dickens by about twenty years, it’s exactly the sort of sweetmeat I envision adorning Mr. Fezziwig’s bountiful Christmas Eve party table.

Eccles Cakes

  • Servings: 24 pastries
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An Eccles cake is a small, heavily spiced pastry filled with currants and candied orange peel wrapped in a flaky (rough puff) pastry. The origins can be traced to the town of Eccles, formerly within the Lancashire boundary, but now a suburb of Manchester. Weights are in grams, nodding to their British origin.


Ingredients

    Filling
  • 120 grams currants
  • 50 grams candied orange peel, chopped
  • 50 grams unsalted butter, softened
  • 40 grams light brown sugar
  • ½ teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • ¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • ¼ teaspoon allspice
  • Zest of ¼ lemon
  • Juice of ½ orange
  • 1 Tablespoon brandy
  • Pastry
  • 250 grams All-purpose flour
  • 5 grams salt
  • 250 grams very cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
  • 125 milliliters ice-water
  • 1 egg white, beaten
  • Turbinado sugar (such as Sugar in the Raw)
  • [recipe title="Eccles Cakes" servings="24" image="" description="An Eccles cake is a small, heavily spiced pastry filled with currants and candied orange peel wrapped in puff pastry. The origins can be traced to the town of Eccles, formerly within the Lancashire boundary, but now a suburb of Manchester. Weights are in grams, nodding to their British origin."] [recipe-ingredients] Filling
  • 120 grams currants
  • 50 grams candied orange peel, chopped
  • 50 grams unsalted butter, softened
  • 40 grams light brown sugar
  • ½ teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • ¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • ¼ teaspoon allspice
  • Zest of ¼ lemon
  • Juice of ½ orange
  • 1 Tablespoon brandy
  • Pastry
  • 250 grams All-purpose flour
  • 5 grams kosher salt
  • 250 grams very cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
  • 125 milliliters ice-water
  • 1 egg white, beaten
  • Turbinado sugar (such as Sugar in the Raw)

Directions

  1. Stir together all filling ingredients in a small bowl. Microwave for 45 seconds to 1 minute until butter is melted. Cover with clingfilm and set aside allowing the flavors to meld and currants to soften. Refrigerate. Once cold, the filling should bind together without extra liquid. Drain if necessary.
  2. In a food processor, pulse flour, salt, and very cold butter until butter pieces are pea-sized. Gradually pulse in about 100-125ml cold water until mixture comes together into a dough. Do not overwork.
  3. Roll out the dough on a lightly floured surface into a rectangle three times as long as it is wide. Fold the top third down into the middle, then the bottom third up over the top, as if folding a letter. Rotate the dough 90 degrees so the fold is now vertical. Roll out again and repeat the folding process. Wrap in clingfilm and chill for 20 minutes. Repeat the rolling, folding, rotating, rolling and folding one more time. Chill for an hour.
  4. Roll the dough out on a lightly floured work surface 1/6-inch thick, then cut out rounds 3 ½ inches wide. Put a half-tablespoon of filling in the center of each round, then dampen the edges of the circle and pinch together, tucking in the corners and pinching well to make it into a purse, fully enclosing the filling. Place on a parchment-lined baking sheet smooth side up, and press down slightly with your hands until flattened. Chill for 20 minutes.
  5. Preheat the oven to 400° F. Remove pastries from refrigerator, brush with egg white and sprinkle with turbinado sugar. Cut three slashes on the top of each Eccles cake and bake for about 25 minutes or until golden and well-risen. Allow to cool completely before eating – the filling will be hot.

I am a huge proponent of making your own candied orange peel – its the difference between hard bullet and juicy deliciousness. You can find my recipe for candied orange peel here.

Losing Ritual

If rituals provide us solace by allowing us a tiny bit of control in a world that is essentially mysterious and uncontrollable, then what happens when our rituals disintegrate?

I’m facing the fast approach of two long-held family rituals – Thanksgiving and Christmas.  With both parents now dead, I’m not sure how to face these holidays. My family celebrated in my childhood home until about eight years ago, when the tradition moved to my current home.  Each year, the foundation of these rituals crumbled a little bit – first with my father’s passing and then as my mother’s illness stole her mind.  Last year’s attempt was feeble and now, with her death, these traditions seem hollow – out of habit rather than heart.

For this Thanksgiving, my inclination is to run away.  There’s a yoga retreat (retreat – the perfect word) a few hour’s drive from my home.  Here, I can practice my yoga, soak in a hot tub overlooking the ocean, graze on healthy food prepared by someone else – and hide from the reality of my world.

Yes, I realize this is escapism, but what are my options?  I can host Thanksgiving again, hoping that a least a part of my family shows up.  I can volunteer at a soup kitchen, as other holiday orphans do.  Frankly, the thought of scooping congealed over-salted gravy on cardboard turkey and flavorless stuffing doesn’t warm me – even if it is for a good cause (yes, I realize I need to work on my altruistic and compassionate tendencies…knowing you have a problem is the first step, right?)  The other option is staying home alone or tagging along at a friend’s dinner – pathetic options even to my own ears.

Yes, I think I’ll run away this year.