The sweet, and then the bittersweet.

Apparently you can make fruit cake look appetizing. And, also, apparently fruit cake is actually consumed over here-- And enjoyed. ???
Along with snails, I believe it is one of the only things most American's actually won't eat and, in my family, at least, fruit cake has been a long standing joke; creatively being passed between my Grandmother and our good family friend Kevin every Christmas. It (yes, IT-- the same ol' cake) took on many different forms: a door stop, bird feed, decoration on a picture frame, and, my favorite, the surface on to which a battery-opperated Bob The Builder toy happily drilled away at.
So you can believe my apprehension when I opened my recipe folder and saw that we would be making a "light fruit cake".
Hey France! Don't think that prefacing it with the word "light" will change anything.

Kind of tempting, right?

Still bad, though. Still just doesn't hit the palate like you want it to-- super gnarly on the taste buds. 

But a pretty doorstop, indeed.

Luckily the whole fruit cake incident was made up for with, what my Brazilian friend Alvaro likes to call The Shrek Cake, but is actually called a "Plane Jane" cake:

It is made with pistachio (giving it that nice, green hue) and almond paste, and is incredibly pleasant-- a wonderful cake with tea. 

And then we move on to the gut-wrenchers. Full of butter and sugar, and sugar and butter, and alcohol and a little bit of raspberry jam:

  

Attack of the sponge cakes!

Don't be fooled by their cool, careful exterior-- once ingested these bad boys will create hell in your digestive tract. One bite was my stroopwafel limit (anyone who has every tried a stroopwafel will understand that reference. Anyone who hasn't... Go eat a stroopwafel.)

We're done with cakes for now, thank the lord-- just the smell alone is enough to make you queasy.

But all of this baking is really getting me in to the holiday spirit, even more than Oxford street already has. My walk to and from the bus stop every day is just a steady stream of twinkly lights, jolly saxophone players and tidings of comfort and joy. (Oooh tidings of comfort and joy). (Shoot, now I have that song stuck in my head forever.)

What is also helping me transition into winter-times is the slowly dwindling presences of light, leafy greens at the farmers market. This is the bitter-sweet part of my post because I am finding immense joy in the ebb and flow of seasonal foods. Of course I can't live without my morning banana and when I find a ripe avocado I literally can't contain my joy, but having to start buying bottled tomatoes and dark, winter greens is warming my foodie soul.

Sauteed kale and butternut squash soup, here I come!

Happy transitioning,

-H