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Fruitcake Pie — Something Sweet to Carry the Chain Forward

Third week of December. Pasteles count: sixty-five. I need seven more for Saturday's batch and we are at seventy-two. Christmas Eve is eight days away.

This week I made arroz con dulce. The three-hour rice pudding. Abuela Consuelo's version. Constant stirring. The notebook chapter is written from this week's making. I had the notebook open at the counter next to the stove and I stirred with my left hand and I wrote notes with my right hand for three hours. I am getting good at this. I am becoming the writer of my own recipes in real time.

Miguel Jr. came Saturday with Lucas. Lucas, five, has decided he wants to make arroz con dulce by himself next year. He watched me stir for fifteen minutes at one stretch. He asked questions. "Why cinnamon stick? Why not cinnamon powder?" "Why three hours? Why not two?" I answered each question seriously, the way my mother answered mine at five. "The stick releases slower. The powder dissolves too fast. You want slow flavor." "Three hours because the rice needs to break down. At two hours it is still grains. At three it is pudding." Lucas nodded. He said, "I will remember."

Miguel Jr. watched his son watch his mother and he said, "Ma, Lucas is going to be a cook." I said, "He is already a cook." Miguel Jr. said, "I mean professionally." I said, "He is five, Miguel Jr. I am not putting him on a career track." Miguel Jr. said, "I am not either. I am observing. He is like David was." I said, "I know." I know. I have seen it for three years. My oldest grandson has the cook in him. The same cook David has. The same cook I have. The same cook Luz María has. The same cook Abuela Consuelo had. The chain may go through Lucas.

Mami on Saturday evening was tired but present. She came for dinner — she has not come to many Saturday dinners lately, but Saturdays in December are different — and she ate a piece of arroz con dulce and she closed her eyes and she said, "This is your grandmother." I said, "I know, Mami." She said, "You got it right, Carmen." She held my hand. She was very quiet for the rest of dinner. Eduardo drove her home at 8 PM. She slept on the ride. Wepa.

Sunday I wrote the arroz con dulce chapter formally in the notebook. Four pages. It is the longest chapter so far. It deserves to be. Wepa.

After Lucas stood at that stove for fifteen minutes asking every question with both eyes wide open, and after Mami held my hand at the table and said nothing else needed to be said, I wanted one more sweet thing to round out the week — something that could sit beside the arroz con dulce without competing with it, something with dried fruit and warmth and the kind of density that says holiday the way only the last week before Christmas can. This Fruitcake Pie is that thing. It bakes while you rest. It smells like December. It is ready when you are.

Fruitcake Pie

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 50 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 10 minutes (plus 1 hour cooling) | Servings: 8

Ingredients

  • 1 unbaked 9-inch deep-dish pie crust
  • 3 large eggs, room temperature
  • 1 cup light corn syrup
  • 1/2 cup packed dark brown sugar
  • 1/4 cup unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled
  • 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
  • 2 tablespoons dark rum (or 1 teaspoon rum extract)
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • 1/2 cup chopped pecans
  • 1/2 cup chopped walnuts
  • 1/2 cup red and green candied cherries, halved
  • 1/2 cup golden raisins
  • 1/4 cup dried cranberries
  • 1/4 cup chopped pitted dates

Instructions

  1. Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Fit the unbaked pie crust into a 9-inch deep-dish pie pan and crimp the edges. Place on a rimmed baking sheet and set aside.
  2. Make the custard base. In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, corn syrup, and brown sugar until fully combined and slightly thickened, about 2 minutes. Whisk in the melted butter, vanilla extract, rum, cinnamon, and nutmeg until smooth.
  3. Fold in the fruit and nuts. Add the pecans, walnuts, candied cherries, golden raisins, dried cranberries, and dates to the custard mixture. Stir gently with a wooden spoon until everything is evenly coated.
  4. Fill the crust. Pour the filling into the prepared pie crust, spreading the fruit and nuts evenly across the surface. The filling will be full — this is a generous pie.
  5. Bake. Bake on the center rack for 45–55 minutes, until the center is set and only barely jiggles when you nudge the pan. If the crust edges begin to brown too quickly, cover them loosely with foil after the first 20 minutes.
  6. Cool completely. Transfer the pie to a wire rack and allow it to cool for at least 1 hour before slicing. The filling firms as it cools — do not rush this step. Serve at room temperature or very slightly warm.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 435 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 19g | Carbs: 64g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 175mg

Carmen Delgado-Ortiz
About the cook who shared this
Carmen Delgado-Ortiz
Week 386 of Carmen’s 30-year story · Hartford, Connecticut
Carmen is a sixty-year-old retired hospital cafeteria manager, a grandmother of eight, and a Puerto Rican woman who survived Hurricane María in 2017 and rebuilt her life in Hartford, Connecticut, with nothing but her mother's sofrito recipe and the kind of determination that only comes from watching everything you own get washed away. She cooks arroz con pollo, pernil, and pasteles for every holiday, and her kitchen is always open because in Carmen's world, nobody eats alone.

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