The Fourth of July is right around the corner and it felt like the opportune time for this post. If you make the recipe, let me know! I’d love to hear how you liked it.
People who frequent food spaces online, maybe even in person, especially during times of heightened political tensions, will no doubt have heard others complain about the politicization of food. Maybe YOU have complained too. People will say something like “I’m just here to talk about food, not politics.” Or maybe “why do we have to make everything [implying food] political?” Or perhaps, “it’s just dry pancake mix” or “it’s just butter.” What those people fail to realize is that food is, and has always been, politicized, both by regular people and by governments.
Sometimes it’s subtle and in ways that are not immediately seen to those not in the know. But other times it’s overt and unabashedly so. Remember freedom fries and freedom toast? The United States has a long history politicizing food and using it as tool to influence political change. From its inception, if not before, in fact. Think of the Boston Tea Party. Yes, I’m counting tea as food here. These examples sent crystal clear political messages in politics, but this phenomenon also happened historically in the home. Take the case of some of the cakes that appeared in the early United States with explicitly political names. One of the relatively famous ones is Election Cake, which many people have written about. There is also Federal Pan Cake – not a cake as such but, well, pancakes – and Independence Cake.
All three recipes appear in the very first cookbook written and published in the United States: American Cookery, by Amelia Simmons, published in 1796. These recipes didn’t appear in the first edition of the book, but she added them for the second edition, published the same year. The book itself does a lot of work in the realm of food politics, starting with the name. Culinary scholar Mary Tolford Wilson has argued that American Cookery was a second declaration of American independence.[1] Elsewhere in my academic life, I have argued that Simmons’ American Cookery is a political treatise masquerading as a cookbook, showcasing the political lives and civic voices of women in post-revolutionary America with Simmons as the proxy. Thus, these cakes are not political only because they have political names, but also because of who and what lays behind them. Culinary and art historian Nancy Siegel has argued that these cake names are the result of a women-led activist movement that promoted republicanism [little r republican, NOT the political party big R republican] through domestic endeavors.[2]
Election Cake was already served in the North American colonies before the American Revolution, but Independence Cake appeared after. Yet, despite this American-sounding patriotic name, Independence Cake is really a version of the great British fruitcakes by another name. Though it may sound ironic, to celebrate American independence from Britain with a very British cake, much of the food that Anglo-Americans were eating and writing about at the time was often copied straight from British cookbooks, great cakes included. More importantly in taking a British cake and renaming it to something that celebrates American independence, Simmons made the cake American, mirroring the political and social changes that the population was undergoing as they transitioned from British colonials to Americans. The cake, just like Simmons’ cookbook in general, points at the new nation’s awareness of itself as separate from Britain, a process that happened in the kitchens just as in the battlefields and the world of out-of-doors politics.
It is Independence Cake that is the star here today. It’s July after all, and Independence Day is just around the corner. Unlike Election Cake, Independence Cake has not received much attention from culinary historians and other mediums that discuss food in history. The recipe Amelia Simmons gives is for a massive cake, starting with 20 pounds of flour. This is the first clue that this is a celebratory cake, meant to feed a large gathering. For comparison, the first cake in the “Cake” section is “plumb cake” and calls for 6 pounds of flour. Still a lot for modern standards, but meant to feed one household rather than a large gathering of people celebrating a breaking off from a colonial power. Then there is the decoration. In case you had any doubts that this was supposed to be an opulent and flamboyant celebratory cake, it is decorated with gold leaf; a touch no other cake recipe in the book has.
For decorating, the recipe also calls for “box,” which had me scratching my head for a little bit. After some research and asking in a historical cookery forum, the consensus is that “box” is most likely boxwood. Boxwood is a shrub, and the British did have a long history of decorating cakes with leaves and so this makes perfect sense. Unfortunately, boxwood is toxic so I chose to leave that out entirely.
There are other ingredients that mark this cake as particularly luxurious. Citron, for example, was very expensive. Other cakes in the book call for raisins and currants, but only Independence Cake calls for citron. Even today, real candied citron is expensive. I know because I bought some for this recipe and was shocked at the price. It was $30 for 900 grams, which is roughly the amount needed for the cake, minus a few grams.
But because I am not insane, don’t own a commercial-size oven, and I’m not feeding half of New York, I did not make the full cake. Instead, I scaled back the recipe to 1 pound of flour, down from 20 pounds, and calculated the ratio of each ingredient based on that. I tried to stay as close to that ratio as possible to stay true to the recipe.
Getting ratios to scale down was not very difficult. The most difficult part was deciding how to mix the ingredients. I settled on starting by creaming the butter and the sugar. Yeast would have needed some help for leavening cake. I had to choose something, since Simmons gives us no instructions (I also looked at other cakes in the book), so that’s what I chose to do. I thought I was set, but all did not go without bumps along the way.
First, after I added the dried and candied fruit to the mix, the dough – because it is not a batter – broke my mixer’s plastic flat beater. OK, fine, that doesn’t affect the cake itself. I continued mixing with a spatula, scooped the mixture in the pan, covered it, and let it sit to rise.
As I waited for the dough to rise, I realized I made a potentially crucial mistake. While I was mixing the cake, I had been thinking that the mixture didn’t have very much liquid at all. Then, while waiting, it dawned on me that yeast in the 18th century was barm, or a watery mixture made with barm. Simmons’ yeast was liquid, but I used instant yeast without taking that amount of liquid into account. Thus, my dough was dryer than what the recipe intended. To be fair, when scaling back to 1 pound of flour, the amount of liquid lost by this oversight is not a lot, it is about 2 fluid ounces. If you’re doing the math, this may not make sense to you because Simmons calls for 1 quart of yeast. But keep in mind that an 18th- century quart contained 40 fluid ounces and not the 32 fluid ounces our modern American quart contains. The system of measures Simmons used is known today as the English system. If you are British, then your quarts are still 40 fluid ounces.
The dough/batter did not rise. Since everything was already mixed, I decided to go ahead and bake it anyway to see what happened.
Nothing. Nothing else happened. The cake was a greasy lump of flour and butter.
My mistake, I suppose. But maybe not.
I considered how to approach the next iteration of the cake. Should I redo it, adding the 2 missing fluid ounces of water and more yeast? I had the suspicion that it would take a lot of tinkering to get this recipe to work. Sometimes historical recipes don’t work without a lot of adjustment, and that’s OK. Different times, different ingredients, different experiences. Trial and error, lots of error, is the nature of recipe development anyway, especially in baking.
In the end, the fact that I was up against the clock and working with relatively expensive ingredients AND I wanted to leave you with a recipe that actually works dictated my decision. I chose to create a recipe that has the same flavor profile as Simmons’ Independence Cake. And yes, I’m using baking powder instead of yeast. It’s OK. The yeast doesn’t affect flavor with so much of the spices.
21st Century Independence Cake
For the cake:
2 cups all-purpose flour, 1 tbsp reserved
¼ cup raisins
¼ cup currants
½ cup chopped candied citron
2 tsp baking powder (NOT baking soda)
1 tsp salt
½ tsp ground cinnamon
½ tsp ground mace
¾ tsp ground cloves
Pinch grated nutmeg
½ cup water
¼ cup brandy, wine, or a combination of the two
½ cup unsalted butter cut into pieces
1 cup granulated sugar
2 eggs
For the frosting:
1 ½ cups powder/confectioner sugar
2 to 3 tbsp brandy or water
Edible gold leaf
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Grease or butter the inside of a 9x5 inch loaf pan.
In a medium bowl, toss the raisins, currants, and candied citron with the 1 tablespoon of flour until every piece of fruit is coated. Set aside.
In a large bowl, combine the remaining flour, baking powder, salt, and the spices. Set aside.
Mix the water and the brandy. Set aside.
In the bowl of a stand mixer and using the flat beater, cream the butter and sugar at medium speed until fluffy and light in color, approximately 3 to 5 minutes. You can also do this with a hand mixer, just make sure you have softened the butter at room temperature for at least 30 minutes.
Add the eggs, one at a time, and mix until well incorporated.
Add the flour mixture alternating with the water mixture, mixing well after each addition.
Remove the bowl from the mixer. Using a rubber spatula, mix the dried fruit and citron into the batter until evenly distributed.
Pour the batter into the prepared loaf pan. Place in the preheated oven and bake for 1 hour to 1 hour and 10 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
Remove the pan from the oven, set on a cooling rack and allow it to cool for 20 minutes. Remove the cake from the pan and allow it to cool completely before frosting.
To make the frosting, whisk the powder sugar and brandy, starting with 2 tablespoons, until the mixture is of a pourable but not runny consistency. If it’s too thick, add the remaining tablespoon of brandy little by little until you get the desired viscosity. Pour over the cake. The icing will form a thin crust within minutes.
This is a really lovely and light fruitcake. It’s the right amount of spices and fruit and it’s not dense like other fruitcakes, especially the ones Americans know as fruitcake. The brandy in the icing really complements the flavors of the cake. If you use water for the icing, feel free to mix in a little bit of vanilla as part of your 2 to 3 tablespoons of liquid. It’s not technically historically accurate, but it IS technically delicious.
The gold leaf adds nothing in terms of flavor and it’s entirely optional. If I hadn’t been photographing the cake at 11pm I might have done a better job with styling.
Let’s talk about the citron. The citron I bought is whole candied citron and it really doesn’t have a very strong citrus flavor. I love citrus though and really missed the tang here. If I was going to make this again, not trying to be historical-adjacent, I would substitute the citron with candied orange peel, candied lemon peel, or something along those lines. I think they add more flavor.
As for preparation, you may or may not have noticed that I did not mention the butter had to be softened in the ingredients list. If you are using a stand mixer, that step is not really necessary. Modern stand mixers are powerful enough to work with cold butter. In fact, softening the butter, if overdone, can have detrimental effects if youre are making a cake because the butter won’t hold the air that the sugar mixes in. I release you from the tyranny of softened butter.
After all the struggles with this recipe, I’m happy with the one I came up with, even if it isn’t exactly what Simmons wrote. I think sometimes we, myself included, forget that things in the past were done the way they were because people were using the resources they had and not because it’s the only or even best way to use it. Once I got past that hang up here, the baking powder didn’t feel like cheating. Leavening by another way is still leavening.
Finally, a moment of silence for my broken flat beater, please.
Citations
[1] Mary Tolford Wilson, “Amelia Simmons Fills a Need: American Cookery, 1796,” The William and Mary Quarterly 14, no. 1 (1957): 16-30.
[2] Nancy Siegel, “Cooking Up American Politics,” Gastronomica, Vol. 8, No. 3 (2008): 53-61.
Housekeeping
- has been writing about food politics in a modern context, but also with a historical bent. Check out her posts here and here.
As you may have noticed, I turned on paid subscriptions on this publication. I debated whether to mention it or not but decided that I shouldn’t just let it be the pink elephant in the room. Writing, not to mention adapting recipes, cooking them, photographing them, and doing research is fun and what I love to do, but it’s also work and it is work that I have spent a significant portion of my life and education honing. I want you to know that I am committed to this publication, and if you feel inclined to support my work and are able to do so, well, that’s fantastic. There will still be free posts, there will just be additional posts for paid subscribers. Paid subscribers posts will begin this month.