A Stoic Reminder of Personal Mortality

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Until recently, traditional Date Tea Loaf and I had a convoluted and kind of melancholy history together. Given my frequently winding route to emotional maturity, our shared history was perhaps inevitable and, possibly, even preordained. Quite probably this history explains why a younger me firmly associated dried dates and date tea loaf with old age, the elderly and decades of emotional guilt. And it had nothing to do with wrinkles or liver spots (or “coffin spots” as a dermatologist of my acquaintance once irreverently referred to them).

 

Traditional date tea loaf – the often too dense and frequently dry kind – was not something me and my preadolescent siblings were even intermittently exposed to. Mom certainly never baked them for us at home. Once in a very blue moon she would bake a loaf when we were about to visit one of my grannies. My suspicion is that dried dates also made Mom feel uncomfortable on some subconscious level. However, neither of my grannies had any such emotional qualms as both baked date loaves frequently at their homes.

 

Of the three bakers, I distinctly remember one granny baking a much better quality loaf than the others. Mom and maternal granny did not put serious effort into their loaves. Both their loaves were the colour of watery black tea and contained large flakes of partially rehydrated date skin while being speckled with chunks of only partially macerated dried fruit. Both bakers invariably baked dry, yet fairly dense tea loaves. Mom because she was always in a hurry with four young children in tow, and granny because she was an impatient cook. For granny date tea loaf was also a means to a sweet end: keeping my stroke impaired grandfather contented and pacified.

 

On the other hand, paternal Grandmother was an excellent cook and a competent, all round baker. She usually put effort and dedication into her baked goods. Qualities that were reflected in her date loaves: rich, quite moist, treacle dark, almost black, and with a smooth, even crumb structure and texture. Magnificent beasts, each one of them. None of her always generously thick date loaf slices ever required a slathering of butter. They were all quite capable of being served as is – in the nude, so to speak.

 

Since it was an unusual food item for all of us siblings, it always caused some unease. Particularly so for myself as the first born. Even at that pre-teen age I was keenly aware that I had to set an example for my siblings and be a model child for my parents (according to their ideas of what a model child should be, that is). My Dad in particular made certain he instilled very early on in me the values of responsibility, of being decorous when in adult company, and to accept an adult person automatically as my better and to respect and obey said adult without question. Proper manners and being responsible were very important qualities to Dad.

 

Now Dad, in his younger days, was a fiercely independent and obstinate loner. Almost all his married life he made a determined and unrepentant choice to live as far away from his own family and in-laws as he could. Needless to say, this life philosophy had a significant effect on us siblings. Neither of our young parents had any ‘elder’ persons in their small friend circles. Also, none of their friends had any live-in parents. On top of that, visits to or from our grandparents were few and far in between. Consequently this severely limited our childhood exposure to what would today be called “senior persons” or “the elderly” back then. As such it was rather a mystery of how to behave in the company of these persons given our lack of opportunities to learn the basic rules of engagement. Expecting our emotionally relatively uninvolved parents to explain what they required from us was also a daydream. Dad simply presumed you to know the Rules and you knew full well there would be hell to pay if you misbehaved. And Dad firmly adhered to the philosophy that punishment should be immediate while the transgression was still fresh in the memory of the perpetrator. Confusingly, ignorance was not a viable excuse either.

 

Therefore, given these initial social difficulties, it was probably normal (if unfair) for me to attach a less than glamorous association with dates and date tea loaves from a young age. Many years later, when paternal Grandmother went to an old age home, a further association became attached to it: the faint odour of old age homes. It is an awareness that is hard to pin down. For me it consists of a miasma of numerous elements: talcum powder; strong disinfectant; the aroma of large quantities of rather plain food cooking; industrial floor polish; cherry flavoured cough syrup and sharp camphor rub; whiffs of sweet, milky tea and that always present, but faint and persistent undertone of urinary incontinence.

 

I was already employed at my first formal job when paternal Grandmother went to live at the old age home where she eventually passed away. It is sad to admit, but I was an emotionally closed off person at that young adult age. Way too “bright” academically for my own good as well, but emotionally a dullard. Yet even I noticed how many of the elderly did not receive regular visitors. Surprisingly for me, I even noticed how many of these essentially abandoned elderly persons closed themselves off from the world, retreating into themselves and frequently pushing out even their peers. Day by day sitting at windows, staring out into nothingness, or the gardens and the road running past the care home. Waiting (sometimes impatiently) and probably hoping for release into the great beyond.

 

Oblivious and inconsiderate, I also insisted in bringing along store bought date tea loaves to paternal Grandmother when I visited her. These travesties were baked in bulk by commercial bakers who had neither the inclination nor time to coax the best out of their ingredients. Each supplier offered a parody compared to what Grandmother could achieve in her own kitchen when she was still able to. And to compound matters even further, I never even brought some of those small catering tubs of butter with.

 

Since those days many years have passed, idly falling like russet autumn leaves. A multitude of life lessons – intellectual; personal; emotional and spiritual – had to be absorbed in that time. Inevitably, the majority were hard lessons given the obtuse nature of my own DNA. Looking back, and surprising myself, a modicum of personal growth did occur. Some lessons were simply impossible to ignore. A personal realisation gradually set in that ignorance is not bliss and that emotional maturity – exactly like spite – nearly always comes too late. Maybe it’s no surprise then that I eventually came to associate date tea loaf with an uneasy sense of guilt and abandonment.

 

Today, here and now, is me: already finding myself definitely over the doorstep of middle age. Somewhat surprisingly – and rather unexpected – I too have also become an ‘older’ person. The grey is silently and remorselessly marching up my temples and my beard is turning salt & pepper in recklessly uneven patches. Liver spots appear quietly, almost overnight, on my hands and elsewhere. I am now mature and confident enough to just ‘be’. It is unnecessary to wing it any longer; trying to adhere to only half understood and implied social rules. I make my own rules now. I am what I am and so be it. There are no more reasons or motivation to conform to an increasingly stupid world and a society apparently daily growing more ignorant and ridiculous.

 

Maybe this is part of what being mature is: a collection of deeply personal and differing awarenesses about the positive and negative aspects of my own life and the roles I played (and am still playing) in particular in the lives of those closest to me. This collection of awarenesses seems to grow with an almost distressing regularity. However, I have made peace with my youthful emotional stupidity and ignorance. It is an uneasy peace, but it is holding. Ignorance still is not a good excuse, but I am aware that generally there was no malice in my actions then. The pain we inflict on others close to us seems to be part of the cost of personal emotional maturity. Unfortunately I cannot apologise to Grandmother now. Maybe one day there’ll be an opportunity on some ethereal plane. I can only hope.

 

The Date and Prune Teatime Loaf of this recipe is now a personal symbol of independent maturity and self acceptance. Simultaneously it is also a gentle, if somewhat bittersweet reminder of my own mortality. Time is indeed finite. It is an uncomfortable awareness, but there is as yet no need to despair, to “rage against the dying of the light.” I am now acquainted with hopefully at least the greater majority of my many failings and shortcomings. In my own way I am daily making reparations to redress at least some of the damage I caused and the burden of emotional and spiritual debt I've accumulated over those furious spring and summer years.

 

Is it still necessary? Redress? Is it an unwinnable race for redemption given my age? Is there really a burden of debt to the universe or some sort of only faintly sensed higher authority? Most of the people I have failed, wronged or hurt have either passed away or moved on and out of my life. Is redress necessary? I don’t really know. The answer still eludes me. I do know these small acts of rectification satisfy my perception that some sort of overall justness is maintained. On a deeply fundamental level I feel that his is important. I've gradually become aware that the universe demands that a balance needs to be sustained between the negative effects I have, and have had in the past, on those around me and the actions of redress I make to compensate for my burden of debt.

 

These little redeeming endeavours are legion in their numbers. Small acts of kindness (not only to my fellow humans), daily gratitude for what we so easily accept as permanent givens, more patience with others – even unto the often undeserving ones, looking at people with empathy and insight, keeping my mouth shut at every available opportunity, dropping scores yet to be settled, and – possibly the most important – understanding that the dreams, hopes, troubles and journeys of others are also important and may probably be harder than mine. I have also realised that I ignore this demand for redress at my peril. The universe has a sneaky and mostly cynical way of forcing me to make redresses. Usually on a deeply personal and always uncomfortable level.

 

Such is my journey to redemption. There are no prizes and there is no end destination, only the private and intimately personal knowledge that today I’ll owe the universe maybe a little less than yesterday. There is a sense of small, but significant accomplishments achieved. A gladdening knowledge of a somewhat lesser weight carried. An awareness of gradually deepening inner peace. Thus I strive to redeem myself: one small step at a time. I still have time, better not to fritter it away.

 

Despite our somewhat dank history together I still have a serious affinity for the almost cloyingly sweet, rather exotic and very nearly dark taste and flavour of the plain old dried & pitted dates used for baking. Dried Medjool dates (if I can find them in sufficient quantities at an affordable price) are lovely too and taste better, but they’re bastards to use as the pip obstinately refuses to separate cleanly from the sticky, shrunken fruit pulp.

 

However, I’ve always thought that the dried date taste and flavour of the traditional date tea loaf was a wee bit too much, being so rich and overbearing as to put me off after one and half or maybe two slices. Both my grannies used the dried, pitted dates intended for baking. Both also refused to use the rectangular, shredded and compressed blocks of dried dates frequently found in the baking section of most large grocery stores. Both grannies claimed quite rightly the compressed, blocked stuff tasted like cardboard. Steadfast, and loyal to their memories, I also avoid it.

 

So, here is a moist, less stodgy and ‘lighter’ version with a somewhat less intense date flavour. Substituting 25% of the dried dates of the traditional recipes with dried prunes still provide that full, fruity taste but with a lesser dominance of dried dates. Also, increasing the ratio of fat to flour, reducing the quantity of sugar and boosting the baking powder with a dash of bicarbonate of soda seem to check all the boxes for producing a soft, moist and fruity teatime loaf.

 

Granny, who is still with us, enthusiastically approves of this recipe. I believe paternal Grandmother would’ve approved too; and understood that I had no malicious intent, only the stupidity of youth.

 

As a final comment:

For an unusual dried date experience, toast two slices of Date & Prune Tea Loaf (each about the thickness of your index finger) in a flat toaster until they are fairly crispy outside, but not charred or burnt. Serve each slice in a large pasta plate along with a hefty measure of Crème Anglaise and about a quarter cup of mixed, stewed dried fruit. Make sure the slices are still quite warm when the cold custard is added – you'll understand why with the first bite. Suddenly placid and staid old dried dates come alive and sparkle. Also, try to refrain from adding spearmint or mint sprigs to the final dessert? Dried dates do nasty, unmentionable things to mint.

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DATE & PRUNE TEATIME LOAF

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Recipe yields: 1 x ±1Kg Loaf

Soaking time:   8 Hours

Prep. time: ± 15 Minutes

Baking time: ± 55 Minutes

Special Equipment Required:

1 x Electrical hand blender & cup.

1 x Loaf pan, ±1.4L (20cm x 10cm x 7cm)

 

Ingredients:

Cake / All Purpose flour	220g
Baking powder	7.5ml
Bicarbonate of soda (Baking soda )	2.5ml
Fine kosher salt	2.5ml
Fine black pepper	± ½ ml
Full fat or baking margarine	125g
Caster / Granulated sugar	125g
Extra large eggs, lightly beaten	2
Vanilla essence	5ml
Dried, pitted dates, roughly chopped	125g
Dried prunes, un-pitted	100g
Bicarbonate of soda (Baking soda)	5ml
Boiling water	200ml
Full cream milk	±60ml

 

Method:

1. Combine the chopped dates and pitted prunes in a medium size, heat proof bowl. Sprinkle the bicarbonate of soda evenly over the fruit. Add the boiling water and make sure all the fruit is fully submerged. Cover the bowl and set aside eight hours (or overnight) for the fruit to soften.
2. Separate the soaked prunes from the dates and use a small, sharp utility knife to remove and discard the prune pips.
3. Transfer the softened fruit along with its soaking liquid to a small liquidizer or the cup of an electrical hand blender. Add the milk and process or blend until a fine puree is formed and no peel fragments from the dates are still visible. Set aside until needed.
4. Combine the flour, baking powder, bicarbonate of soda, salt and black pepper in a medium bowl. Sift together three times to ensure all the ingredients are completely combined.
5. Cream the margarine and sugar together in a large mixing bowl. Add small quantities of egg if the margarine and egg clumps in the beater attachments instead of creaming. Continue adding egg whilst beating the egg and margarine. Add the vanilla essence when all the egg is added. Beat everything together for at least 4 – 5 minutes. The mixture may look like it has split or curdled. This is normal.
6. Add the flour mixture and fruit puree in two alternating batches to the creamed egg, margarine and sugar mixture. Combine the components with a silicone spatula using figure 8 motions to incorporate everything between additions into the forming batter. Be careful not to over mix. The batter should be very soft, but not runny. Add additional milk if the batter seems to be too dry.
7. Transfer the batter to a well greased and flour dusted loaf pan and smooth the top of the batter with an offset spatula. Use the back of a teaspoon to create a shallow trench in the middle of the batter along the length of the pan. This will limit the extent to which the rising loaf cracks open on top as it bakes in the oven.
8. Bake 55 minutes on the middle shelf of a pre-heated 165°C convection oven (65 – 70 minutes at 180°C in a normal, static oven) or until a bamboo skewer stuck into the top of the baked loaf comes out clean. Note that the loaf cake will not readily pull away from the pan sides when done as the cake is quite heavy and relatively dense.
9. Remove the cake from the oven when done and allow to cool for 20 – 25 minutes on a wire cooling rack before attempting to remove it from the pan.
10. Store the loaf cake in a sealed container at room temperature. Refrigerate any leftover cake after three days.

 

© RS Young, 2023

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Blog Post Writing Trivia for the Curious:
1. Concept inception date :	± August 2021
2. Initial pen to paper date :	06.09.2021
3. Number of document re-writes :	6
4. Date of final edit :	27.01.2023
5. Date of first post related photography :	25.01.2023
6. Date of last photography :	27.01.2023
7. Number of words :	2 899

 

 

 

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All non-watermarked images were found on Pinterest

 

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