Whisky Marmalade Cake
A cake worthy of Britain's favorite grandmother.
In honor of the passing of Britain’s favorite grandma, Queen Elizabeth II, I made a sultana cake, glazed with whisky and orange marmalade. The whisky (Scottish spelling) in honor of Balmoral, and the orange marmalade for the Queen’s last star turn with Paddington Bear. Even with whisky and marmalade, this is a low-key dessert, best enjoyed with a cup of tea. Extra points if its raining outside.
It’s the kind of cake a British gran of a certain generation would always have on hand in case of visitors; typically stored in the pantry in a slightly dented Jacob’s cream cracker tin.
I baked this cake on the latest episode of The Secret Life of Cookies podcast, where along with my guest David Wolstencroft, I discussed how the passing of Queen Elizabeth II managed to awaken emotions in the stiff upper lips of British people. David (a Scot himself) is the brilliant writer/showrunner/producer/creator of shows such as MI-5, The Escape Artist (with one of my other favorite Davids: David Tennant) and Versailles. And while we did briefly discuss the rampant sex scenes in Versailles, we also talked about how central homely dried-fruit based desserts are to the British psyche, fom mince pies to Christmas cake to spotted dick (pause for gratuitous guffaw).
Drief Fruit Note: Although I should make the following eye-opening, vital information for paid subscribers only, I think it’s important enough that I must distribute the following dried fruit primer for free.
The truth is now revealed: The difference between raisins, golden raisins, currants and sultanas.
A brown raisin (often referred to as “rabbit turds” by raisin-haters), is made from green grapes that are dried naturally in the sun, typically over a 3-week period. They tend to be drier than golden raisins. They absorb liquid like a champ, which makes them terrific for soaking in everything from orange juice to rum.
A golden raisin is also made from green grapes (typically Thompson seedless in the U.S., just like the brown raisin). However, golden raisins usually are treated with sulfur dioxide and dried by machine to preserve color and plumpness.
A dried currant is not a dried blackcurrant. It’s just a smaller variety of grape that is dried. Currants are typically half the size of a regular raisin. In America, you’ll see them called Zante currants. They’re called currants and not something more helpful like “teeny-tiny raisins,” because they originated on the island of Corinth. Or possibly because they are made from Corinth grapes. There are many theories. If you plan on making a spotted dick or a Christmas cake, you will want some currants. Some argue that currants are ideal for scones. They are wrong.
Sultanas. I used to think they were bigger than regular raisins. I was wrong. You see them called for in British recipes more often than raisins. And yet, they are merely golden raisisn. They are typically dried by dipping them in oil and acid, which keeps them plump, which I suppose is the reason for my confusion.
Notes on the cake:
Hate raisins, but still want to make this cake? Substitute nuts or chopped apples. Or add nothing but spice.
As written, there is merely a teaspoon of nutmeg flavoring the cake, as it’s intended to a be a ‘plain’ cake. Personally, I like to bump it up to 1 tablespoon, or, add a few teaspoons of pumpkin spice blend.
Don’t like whisky? Substitute Calvados, rum, sherry, apple cider or orange juice.
The method for this cake is a tad unusual. Read the directions first.
Sultana Cake
(from my mother-in-law, a beloved 94-year-old British grandma in her own right)
What You’ll Need:
For the cake:
1 pound dried fruit (I use a mixture of golden raisins and regular ol’ raisins)
8 ounces (2 sticks) butter, cut into pieces
12 ounces (1 1/2 cups) granulated sugar
1 to 2 teaspoons ground nutmeg or pumpkin spice powder
2 heaping tablespoons orange marmalade
3 large eggs, lightly beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
12 ounces (2 3/4 cups) all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
For the glaze:
1/3 cup leftover raisin-soaking liquid
2 ounces (1/2 stick) butter
3 tablespoons orange marmalade
3 tablespoons whisky
2 ounces (1/2 cup) confectioner’s sugar
What You’ll Do:
Preheat oven to 325 degrees F.
Grease and flour a 10 x 2 inch round cake pan
Put the dried fruit in a large saucepan, cover with 1 1/2 cups water and 1/3 cup whisky. (The liquid should only just cover the fruit, adjust as necessary)
Bring the mixture to a boil, then let boil for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Drain the fruit, and reserve the liquid. You will use it for the cake glaze. Waste not, want not and all that.
Put the dried fruit back into the saucepan and add the butter pieces. Stir until melted. Add the marmalade and stir until blended.
In a medium-size bowl, stir together the sugar, eggs and vanilla until blended. Add the flour, spice mixture, baking powder, salt and the raisin-butter-marmalade mixture. Blend well. The mixture should not look greasy (it may look greasy for a little bit, just keep stirring).
Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for 1 hour or until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean. If the cake starts to get a worrying shade of brown, turn the heat down to 300 degrees F and cover the pan loosely with alumin(i)um foil.
Cool on wire rack for 10 minutes. Remove from pan and invert. Place the cooling rack over a rimmed baking sheet.
While the cake cools slightly, make the glaze: In a small saucepan, combine the glaze ingredients over medium heat, stirring frequently, until the mixture thickens slightly and coats the back of a spoon. Spoon the glaze over the cake and down the sides. This will seem like a lot of glaze, but some will be absorbed into the cake and some will pool luciously on top.
This cake keeps well. Which is why the one your gran has in her cupboard is probably leftover from the 1952 Coronation street party. Seriously though, this cake begins to hit its stride after 48 hours.
Did your grandma make a special dessert? Or buy one? Tell us all about it.
Sounds great. Will have to try it. Thank you.
Thank you for the memories. We emigrated to Canada when I was a baby. There was always a “weekly cake” in a tin on the kitchen counter. Sometimes our mom made it with raisins, other times with marmalade, which we called sticky cake, or with raisins, or slivered almonds and almond essence, or glacé cherries. On Sundays my brothers and sisters (7 of us) came home to visit for a piece of cake and a cup of tea. Many years later, when we were cleaning out cupboards we found 2 very well preserved plum puddings.