This light fruitcake, served traditionally for Mothering Sunday and Easter, and layered with marzipan might look innocent enough, but it is, in fact, steeped in mystery and intrigue.
Leaving aside the missing 12th marzipan apostle (that’s Judas, who betrayed Jesus and therefore is not deserving of a marzipan sphere in his name), there are other puzzles… Such as where Simnel cake got its moniker.
There are several stories. Are you sitting comfortably? Then take a slice of Simnel and we’ll begin.
One tale goes that the cake was named for Lambert Simnel, who invented it while working in the kitchens of King Henry VII as punishment for trying to usurp the throne. Simnel, a boy of ten, had been passed off as one of the two princes in The Tower, who were allegedly murdered by Richard III (so not a terribly convincing story, really). He turned out to be a much more convincing kitchen hand though and did so well he was eventually promoted to the position of Falconer by the King. However, we remain unconvinced that Lambert is the true King of Simnel cake. When you’ve made up a whopper like being heir to the throne of England, who’s going to believe you when you say you’ve invented a new cake, after all?
An even bolder story appears in Chambers’ Book of Days in 1867. This story says that the cake was invented by a couple by the name of Simon and Nelly (we expect you already have a hunch where this is going). They had set about making a cake to mark the end of Lent, using some leftover plum pudding from Christmas. Simon thought they should boil the cake and Nelly was convinced it should be baked. After a brief domestic disagreement they compromised, deciding to boil the cake first and then bake it. And this happy union of baking methods produced a cake that became named after both of them - the Sim-Nel cake. (We’d have gone for Nelsim, had we been young Nell… assuming, of course, that we believed this very tall tale).
The least charming, most tedious story, is probably the most believable. ‘Simila’ is Latin for the sort of fine, white flour that was used for these Lenten cakes, and it’s easy to see how Simnel would come from simila. We told you it was slightly tedious. There’s no arguing with Latin though (unlike Simon and Henry VII, who it seems were both up for a bit of a disagreement).
The rather fine Simnel cake pictured above is taken from Fitzbillies: Stories & Recipes From a 100-year-old Cambridge Bakery by Tim Hayward and Alison Wright (Quadrille) with photography by Sam A. Harris. You can find the recipe on p23 of our March ‘Blossom’ issue.
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