Jason Schreiber - Fruit Cake: Recipes for the Curious Baker

FOR BIM AND SAM First to show was sweet ClementRichard often came and wentUnlike Sal who settled inInstantly becoming kinThinking there was room for moreFlorence flitted through the doorLeon, Gerald, Evan, RayIt seems their numbers grow each dayExhausted as I try and tryStill these fruit flies will not dieContentsCover The last time I worked with Jason Schreiber, a longtime, beloved contributor to the food departments of our magazine, our books, and our television shows, was for a Christmas project for Martha Stewart Living in December 2019. Jason and I spent a busy week creating a magnificent Gingerbread Village. Jasons skill as a baker, architect, designer, and decorator was in full throttle and the project was a beautiful success. During that time, as we were ensconced up to our elbows in gingerbread, Jason spoke excitedly about a personal project, his first book, Fruit Cake. When I received the galley of this book, I immediately understood Jasons excitement. This is a very serious accomplishment, and a wonderful first book for a talented and erudite baker.

Jasons love of shaking up tradition is evident, and adding fruits to bolster flavors in familiar baked goods is creative and groundbreaking. I became enamored of the idea of a new version, a modern take, on my childhood fruitcake memory cemented in my favorite fruitcake, Mrs. Mauss Fruitcake. Reading through the seventy-five intriguing recipes, I couldnt wait to try each and every one of them. I recently planted a fruit tree orchardplums, peaches, apricots, cherries, apples, pears, persimmons, quince, and even Asian pearsand enlarged my number of berry bushes and plants (raspberries, black raspberries, blackberries, gooseberries, currants, blueberries, and strawberries). One of my goals is to use my berries in Jasons and my plethora of gooseberries in his crumb cakes.

Even my yuzu lemons have a new recipe in which to star! Jasons recipes are well written, his directions are clear, and the ingredients are attainable. That said, many of Jasons comments are a bit iconoclastic, and he often questions common wisdom, steering us instead to experiment, try new combinations of flavors, and expand our baking vocabulary. Thank you, Jason, for this collection of mouthwatering recipes for cakes we have not yet tasted, but certainly will. Martha Stewart I have, at last check, two pints of red currants, six oranges, eight kiwis, three bananas, and at least a dozen limes in my refrigerator. Theres butter, toosome of it is culturedand not one but two half-empty cartons of eggs. There are easily six types of sugar in my pantry, not to mention the flours (there had been five, but Ive finally finished the spelt) and three open bottles of the exact same vanilla.

My freezer is full of compost and coconuts. Its entirely possible Im a hoarder. I used to shop like a normal person, but then I became a food stylist. I shop from photoshoot garbage now. Its a weird way to live: not quite dumpster-diving for high-end ingredients. The spoils are as extravagant as they are sundry, which leads to a bizarrely stocked kitchen like mine.

I cant stand to see such things wasted, so I take them home, imagining new lives for themanything to stave off the dreaded compost bin. Its an office perk and a curse rolled into one. At first I tried to just eat everything as quickly as I could, but there are only so many mangoes a man can force-feed himself. It became clear there was only one solution, and it was the one that was with me all along. I was born in a gingerbread house, just another bun in the proverbial oven. Its not believable but it gets the point across; I cant remember a time when baking wasnt important to me.

It started inauspiciously enough with some take or another on one-bowl brownies, but things quickly got out of hand. Lots of nine-year-olds have lemonade stands. I made crepes to order. Yes, there are photos. No, I wont show you. (Note to self: What about a guava crepe cake?) Years later, even when I was quite literally surrounded by cakes for most of my waking hours during the five years I worked with pastry chef Ron Ben-Israel, I never seemed to grow tired of them.

The staff would pile into buckets scraps that had been trimmed from some of the most extravagant cakes in all of New York, and like so many hogs to the feeding trough, we would fight for the most succulent morsels. The carrot cake couldnt last a day. Its no secret it was the pineapple that made it so good. We couldnt have cared less about the carrots. As Ive wended my way since then, I havent changed my tune. Ive had the good fortune of landing jobs at veritable institutions like Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia.

Theres nothing quite like watching from just off camera as Martha makes one of your recipes. Knees bent nervously, lower, and lower still. I paid in anxiety for the privilege of learning, not only from Martha but from her team of exceptional cooks, how to make it work and how to recover from the inevitable blunder. Lying on the cold concrete floor is one way. Its surprisingly restorative. And since Martha doesnt waste a thing, my time there certainly did nothing for my stockpiling compulsions.

Where there are berries there could be jam, once you know how to make it. Or a shortcake. Wouldnt that be nice? Im here to offer modern recipes planted firmly in the idea that natures wares can be the star of every cake. And Im willing to use up every goddamn thing in my refrigerator to prove it. YOUR KITCHEN IS NOT ROOM TEMPERATURE, AND OTHER FOLLIES Home kitchens are not laboratories, though its fun to pretend they are. We make assumptions and work on blind faith that standards exist to serve us.

Nothing is as it seems. YOUR KITCHEN IS NOT ROOM TEMPERATURE Its November, and for the first time in weeks I havent even turned on the oven. I also havent turned on the heat, and the bottom line is: Im freezing. I would go get a sweater, but every time I get up from my computer, I lose my train of thought. Besides, Im trying to illustrate a point. My kitchen is cold as the dickens today; two months ago it was sweltry hot.

Almost every baking recipe begins with the same request that you bring the ingredients to room temperature, but the temperature of the room is never given. A too-cold room probably wont end in disaster, but it might keep your eggs and butter from creaming together beautifully or cause your yeasted dough to rise more slowly than expected. A too-hot room could wreak havoc on a temperamental frosting or even cause butter to melt instead of soften. The world goes on. While I wont argue that you should change the temperature of your room, I will suggest you change the temperature of your ingredients by warming or cooling them as needed. Eggs can easily be warmed in a bowl of hot water for 10 minutes or so to take the chill off.