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Fruit Cocktail Cake. © Ryan Schierling |
This is not a fruitcake. At least, not in the traditional sense. If anything, I would call it more of a dinner-appropriate cousin of coffee cake. I might even call it a "bachelor cake" if there weren't so many single men these days with knock-out kitchen skills. It really is that easy.
The 1940s gave birth to the tinned tidbits of fruit we now think of as fruit cocktail. A sort of canned version of fruit salad, it seems to have somehow transformed from fancy hotel luncheon course to ubiquitous school lunch fare over the years. At some point along the line there was established an industry standard of particular percentages represented by peaches, pears, pineapple and grapes. To the chagrin of children young and old, there are usually but a scant few maraschino cherry halves to be found – though they are still the crown jewels of the can.
Where did fruit cocktail cake originate? If you have any information as to the the original source, please do tell! This is a recipe that seems to come in roughly three variations, similar, but differentiated primarily by scale of recipe and type of topping or frosting. I have yet to find a point of origin. It is a widely enough known dessert that, if I were to hazard an educated guess, it seems like the type of recipe one might have found on a can of fruit cocktail at some point along the line. My family made it with some frequency in the 1970s and early '80s via my Grandma Munroe who has this same handwritten recipe in her box under the name Fruit Cocktail Pudding. Grandma only notes that it came courtesy of her cousin Muriel sometime during the 1960s – that's about as far back as anyone can figure – and it is still a mystery as to where Muriel acquired it.
So, why this cake, this week? One, because it's springtime and it just seems like an appropriate dessert for these not-too-hot/not-too-cold days between Spring and Summer. Two, because it's my brother's birthday this week and I can't be there to make a giant fuss over it with him. You know, the kind of "fuss" where you feign a big deal about his age and and invite all his friends over for some great food and a few bites of over-the-top cake that nobody really has room for but feels obligated to eat anyway? Yeah, that kind.
But, I can't be there this year, and I couldn't quite think how to successfully send a cake by mail. So, I did the next best thing; I sent him everything he needs to make his own.