I was dozing in my easy chair, when I suddenly smelt something familiar – a baking cake! What was it? Butter cake? Sugee cake? Fruit cake? Memories of preparations for Christmas flooded in. Mum would start the Christmas baking about the beginning of December, the second week of the Advent season. She would be baking into the early hours of the morning.
During the day we, kids would be hauled in to help out with mincing dried mixed fruit, raisins, preserved winter melon, cherries, almonds and everything else that needed mincing and cutting. Our Ah Ee (Aunty) who was our housekeeper and nanny, would be preparing and making the pineapple jam for the jam tarts. As she stirred the grated pineapple and sugar, over the hot stove, the smell of cinnamon and cloves would also emanate from the thick bubbling sweet mixture. When that was done, the baking would start in earnest.
Dad would take leave from work a week before Christmas, which was also during our school holidays. His job was to make the pastry for the jam tarts. Mum would pour in the ingredients following her recipe and Dad would mix them together and knead the dough. Mum was always very precise about the measurements of ingredients, as she wanted a perfectly consistent result.
We’d set up our jam tart ‘factory’ when the dough was ready. Each of us kids had a specific job. I often cut the pastry for the tart bases and the topping decorations. My sisters would be greasing the patty tins and filling in the jam and my brother would be managing the oven. Mum would be the supervisor and overseer of these proceedings. Those were the days when this was our pre-Christmas family activity. It was fun, haggling, shouting, playing with the dough and eating up the rejects that didn’t turn out right. There was, of course, the tasting, which was an excuse to eat some of the good ones before time, as many of the cakes and jam tarts would go to neighbours and friends first.
We always looked forward to the cake making in anticipation of being allowed to lick the spoon and bowl off remnants of raw cake mix, after the cake tins were filled and put into the oven to bake. The smell of baking cakes and tarts was the smell of Christmas!
It also evokes memories of ‘pau'(Chinese steamed buns) suppers after mid-night mass, which in the 1960’s and 70’s actually started at 10.00pm on Christmas eve and ended about 12.00am on Christmas morning with everyone wishing each other ” Merry Christmas!” after the service. It was a jolly time and we even smiled at and greeted people we didn’t know! This rarely happens nowadays when people often only greet the people they know or talk to. Some of the joy seems to have been lost over time, or perhaps as adults we have lost the wonder of childhood in our electronic and scientific less sociable virtual world.
Winking at Life 