The joy of old-fashioned gingerbread

Christmas baking should be a source of joy. It should be something we look forward to, a break from the hectic organisation of dozens of presents, reams of wrapping paper, cosy-but-thoughtful decoration, enormous meals, endless Christmas parties, and stressful hosting. But Christmas baking can take on a life of its own: fruit cakes that ‘should’ have been made months ago (that three members of your family will tell you loudly they do not like and will not eat), puddings that need hours on the hob, edible biscuity decorations with boiled sweet centres that will inevitably stale on the tree. It can just become another chore.

Now, I love a Christmas pudding. I even love making one, when I have the time, energy and inclination. I will defend the appeal of these traditional bakes to their (or my) death, but not if they become a source of resentment. When baking becomes an obligation, it becomes near-pointless. It is the antithesis to everything I believe and enjoy about baking. So, give yourself a break. No one will care if you buy a supermarket microwave Christmas pud. No one (apart from my husband, but he’s an outlier) will miss a rich fruit cake on the 25th. I survived 31 Christmases without a Yule log, and do you know what, I’m doing just fine. The last thing I want is to add to the pressure that Christmas tends to bring.

But look, perhaps you do want to bake something. You just don’t want to have to buy a thousand types of dried fruit, be tied to the stove for a whole day, or have to contend with making something look like a felled tree. Sometimes, you just want a nice cake that you can bung in the oven, and enjoy the same day. A cake that tastes just a little bit festive.