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The regional table / Connecticut

Hartford Election Cake

A tall frosted loaf cake on a wooden board, one end cut to show a dense golden yellow crumb packed with dark raisins and cubes of candied citron
The crumb should read as bread that got rich rather than as cake that got heavy: open, slightly stringy where you pull it apart, and studded right to the edges. AI-generated illustration.

Eleven of these were printed in one Hartford book in 1889, each under the name of the woman who made it, and the smallest of them starts with two quarts of flour.

The scale is the story, and it is documented from both ends. Start at the top: Hartford Election Cake and Other Receipts, collected by Ellen Terry Johnson, printed by the Fowler & Miller Co. of 341 Main Street, Hartford, in June 1889. It prints eleven election cakes in a row, numbered 1 to 11, each credited by name — Mrs. Sheldon, Miss Rebecca Butler, Mrs. Lewis Weld, Mrs. Nathaniel Terry, Mrs. Henry Hudson, Miss C. M. Ely, Mrs. Charles H. Brainard, Miss Mary Ann Olcott, Miss Gleason, and one from Windsor. Mrs. Sheldon's uses eight pounds of flour, four and a quarter pounds of butter, four and a quarter pounds of sugar, four pounds of raisins, a pound of citron and a quart of home-made yeast, and makes ten medium-sized loaves. Mrs. Nathaniel Terry's takes twelve quarts of flour and makes twelve. Mrs. Henry Hudson's measures its flour by the peck. Mrs. Brainard's, the book notes drily, "makes fourteen loaves, and is usually divided". Ahead of them all stands a receipt for Hartford Election Cake Yeast — three pints of water, eight potatoes, a handful of hops, brown sugar, a coffee cup of distiller's yeast, twenty-four hours to rise — and then a short paragraph settling an argument that was evidently live in 1889: "It has been claimed that the compressed yeast of modern use, is worthless for making election cake. This is incorrect, for although it is undoubtedly less successful, as a rule, still excellent loaf cake has been made of it. It requires a cake and a half of Fleischman's yeast to raise seven loaves of cake." That sentence is the licence for the packet of dried yeast in the list below.

Now the other end, and a correction worth making plainly. Amelia Simmons's American Cookery, Hartford, printed by Hudson & Goodwin in 1796 — the first cookery book written by an American, advertised in the Connecticut Journal of 8 June 1796 as just published and sold by Isaac Beers at two shillings threepence — contains no election cake at all. The word election does not occur in it. What it contains instead is the architecture, under another name: Loaf Cakes, No. 1, which rubs six pounds of sugar, two pounds of lard and three of butter into twelve pounds of flour, adds eighteen eggs, a quart of milk, two ounces of cinnamon, two small nutmegs, a teacup of coriander seed, a pint of brandy, half a pint of wine, six pounds of stoned raisins and a pint of emptins — home-made yeast — and tells you to "rub your shortning and sugar half an hour, it will render the cake much whiter and lighter", then frosts it with six whipped whites and three pounds of sifted loaf sugar "put on thick, as it comes hot from the oven". Her errata page goes further in the same direction: "Page 35. Another plain cake, No. 5; for 9 pounds of flour, read 18 pounds." The edition usually credited with the first printed Election Cake is the undated Albany one from the Websters' printing office; Waldo Lincoln's standard bibliography of American cookery books dates it only to about 1800 and remarks that it "is actually the third edition", and no scan of it could be opened from here, so this article does not lean on it. Between the two ends sits Lydia Maria Child, The American Frugal Housewife of 1832, who already calls the thing antique: "Old-fashioned election cake is made of four pounds of flour; three quarters of a pound of butter; four eggs; one pound of sugar; one pound of currants, or raisins if you choose; half a pint of good yeast." And the occasion itself survives in the Connecticut press, sourly. The Stonington Mirror of 14 May 1874, reporting inauguration day in New Haven, says it "failed to awaken any enthusiasm in our citizens. Election cake had very meager sales and was said to have been slack baked." By 1896 Fannie Farmer had shrunk it to a single bread pan built on one cup of bread dough, one egg and eight chopped figs, and by 9 June 1932 a syndicated newspaper menu for political-party dinners was serving "Election Cake and Favorite Son-dae" as a pun. The recipe below is Miss C. M. Ely's No. 6 — two quarts of flour, the smallest of the eleven — divided by four, so that it makes one loaf.

Why this version works

The fruit goes in last and floured. Mrs. Brainard's receipt says to stir in the fruit "very lightly", "well dredged with flour, which must be taken from that measured for the cake" — so the coating is not extra flour but borrowed flour, which is the correct way to do it and the reason the amounts here are taken out of the main measure. Dredged fruit hangs in the crumb; undredged fruit sinks and makes a wet seam at the bottom.

Half an hour of creaming, and Simmons says why. The 1796 instruction is explicit about the reason: rub the shortening and sugar half an hour and "it will render the cake much whiter and lighter". With no chemical leavening in the original, the air you beat into the butter is the only lift the cake gets beyond the yeast. A stand mixer does in five minutes what a Hartford kitchen did in thirty, but the five minutes are not optional.

Slack baking is the failure the record itself names. The 1874 Connecticut complaint was not that the cake was stale but that it was "slack baked" — pulled from a cooling oven before the middle set. A loaf this heavy with sugar and fruit browns long before it is cooked, which is exactly the trap. Cover it with foil once it is coloured and keep baking; the only honest test is a skewer and a thermometer, not the top.

It is bread, and it is mixed in two stages because of that. Every one of the eleven Hartford receipts builds a sponge first — part of the flour, part of the shortening, the milk and all the yeast — and only enriches it hours later. That order is not decoration. Sugar and fat in quantity slow yeast to a crawl, so the leavening has to establish itself in a lean batter before the four and a quarter pounds of butter arrive. Reverse the order and you get a dense, greasy brick.

Ingredient notes

Sugar: a cup and a half, and yes, that is a great deal of sugar for three and a half cups of flour. It is what the document says, and the sweetness is the point of a cake baked twice a year for a public holiday. It also feeds the yeast and keeps the loaf soft for the best part of a week.

Yeast: one packet of active dry. The 1889 book computes the substitution for you at a cake and a half of compressed yeast to seven loaves, which is about a fifth of a cake for one, and warns that the result is "undoubtedly less successful, as a rule" than the hop-and-potato yeast it prefers. Nobody is going to make hop yeast for this. The packet works.

Fruit and spirits: raisins and candied citron, a tablespoon of brandy and a tablespoon of sherry or madeira. All eleven Hartford receipts carry spirits — wine, brandy, or in the Windsor one half a pint of St. Croix rum — and Mrs. Brainard's adds the juice of one or two oranges and a little grated peel. Currants are Child's choice and are equally correct. Nutmeg and mace are the constant spices; cinnamon belongs to Simmons and not to Hartford.

Flour and the arithmetic: three and a half cups, which is Miss Ely's two quarts divided by four. Everything else below is divided by the same number, so the proportions are hers and not mine. Plain all-purpose flour is right; bread flour makes it chewy in a way none of the eleven can have been.

Step by step

  1. Early afternoon, make the sponge. Warm the milk to blood heat and stir in the yeast. In a large bowl, rub 4 tablespoons of the butter into 2 cups of the flour with your fingers until it looks like coarse meal. Pour in the milk and yeast and the salt, beat hard for 2 minutes, cover, and set somewhere warm. The Hartford receipts say two o'clock; any afternoon hour does.
  2. By evening, enrich it. When the sponge is risen, domed and smells of beer — 3 to 4 hours — cream the remaining butter with the sugar for 5 minutes until pale, beat in the egg, then work this into the sponge along with the nutmeg, mace, brandy and wine and the remaining flour, holding back 2 tablespoons of that flour. Beat it well. It will be a thick, sticky batter rather than a dough.
  3. Rise overnight, cool rather than warm. Cover and leave it in a cool room or the refrigerator overnight, 8 to 12 hours. A cold slow second rise is what gives the loaf its faintly sour, bready edge; a warm fast one makes it taste only of sugar.
  4. In the morning, add the fruit. Toss the raisins and citron with the 2 tablespoons of flour you held back, then fold them through the batter lightly and thoroughly. Scrape it into a buttered and paper-lined 9 by 5-inch loaf pan, filling it no more than two thirds — the 1889 book is firm about that — and smooth the top.
    Raisins and diced candied citron being folded through thick cake batter beside a lined loaf pan.
    Fold the floured fruit evenly through the risen batter before filling the loaf pan. AI-generated illustration.
  5. Let it rise in the pan. Cover loosely and leave 1 to 1½ hours, until the batter has risen by about half and looks puffed rather than doubled. Heat the oven to 325°F while it does. Do not move it around once it is rising.
  6. Bake slow, and finish by temperature. Bake 60 to 75 minutes. Lay foil over the top as soon as it is deep brown, which will be around 35 minutes, and keep going until a skewer comes out clean and the centre reads 200°F. Cool in the pan 15 minutes, then turn out onto a rack and cool completely before frosting.
  7. Frost it white. Whisk the egg white to soft peaks, beat in the confectioners' sugar a little at a time with a few drops of lemon juice until it is thick enough to hold a ridge, and spread it over the cold loaf. Two of the eleven Hartford receipts say it outright — "Frost the loaves" — and Simmons in 1796 puts hers on thick while the cake is still hot from the oven, adding that returning a frosted loaf to the oven "injures and yellows it".
A sunken, damp band across the bottom means the fruit was not dredged or the loaf was cut warm; neither is recoverable in that loaf, but both are avoidable in the next. The far commoner fault is the one the Stonington Mirror named in 1874 — slack baked, dark on top and raw in the middle. If you find it on cutting, put the whole loaf back into a 300°F oven, cut side up, for 20 minutes; it will not be handsome but it will be edible, and the sugar means it will not dry out. If the dough refuses to rise at all after the enrichment, the butter went in too warm and killed the yeast: stir in a fresh teaspoon of yeast dissolved in two tablespoons of warm water and give it another three hours.

Storage and make-ahead

Wrapped in wax paper and then foil, at room temperature, it keeps 5 days and is better on days two and three than on day one — the spirits and spices need a night to settle into the crumb, which is the practical reason a cake made for a fixed public date was started thirty-six hours before it.

It freezes well unfrosted, whole or in slices, for 3 months. Thaw it in its wrapper so the condensation lands on the paper rather than on the cake, and frost it after thawing. Do not refrigerate it unwrapped; the sugar draws moisture and the crust goes leathery overnight.

What to serve with it

Coffee or strong black tea, and nothing else. This is a sweet, spiced, fruited bread and it wants bitterness beside it rather than more sugar. A slice toasted under the broiler and buttered is the way to eat the last of a loaf, and it is closer to what a nineteenth-century Hartford household did with the fourteenth loaf than any dessert plate would be.

A tall frosted loaf cake on a wooden board, one end cut to show a dense golden yellow crumb packed with dark raisins and cubes of candied citron

From the recipe box / Connecticut

Hartford Election Cake

A yeast-raised fruited loaf, spiced with nutmeg and mace, wetted with brandy and wine and frosted white — the Connecticut election-day cake, cut down from eight pounds of flour to one loaf.

Prep
45 min
Cook
1 hr 15 min
Total
20 hr
Serves
12
Calories
475 per serving

Ingredients

Scale

Instructions

  1. In the afternoon, rub 4 tablespoons butter into 2 cups of the flour, add the warm milk with the yeast and the salt, beat 2 minutes, cover and leave 3–4 hours.
  2. When the sponge is risen, cream the remaining butter with the sugar 5 minutes, beat in the egg, and work it into the sponge with the nutmeg, mace, brandy, wine and remaining flour, holding back 2 tablespoons of flour.
  3. Cover and leave in a cool room or the refrigerator 8–12 hours.
  4. Toss the raisins and citron in the reserved 2 tablespoons of flour, fold them through, and scrape into a buttered and paper-lined 9x5-inch loaf pan no more than two thirds full.
  5. Rise 1–1½ hours until risen by half, heating the oven to 325°F.
  6. Bake 60–75 minutes, covering with foil once deep brown, to a clean skewer and 200°F at the centre. Cool 15 minutes in the pan, then completely on a rack.
  7. Whisk the egg white to soft peaks, beat in the confectioners' sugar with a few drops of lemon juice, and spread it thickly over the cold loaf.

Nutrition

Fat13 g (8 g saturated)
Sodium195 mg
Protein6 g
ServingOne of 12 slices, frosted
Calories475
Cholesterol48 mg
Carbohydrates83 g (51 g sugar, 2 g fiber)

Nutrition is an estimate calculated from the listed ingredients and is provided as a courtesy, not as dietary advice.

Questions readers ask

Can I halve the sugar?

You can go down by a third without the loaf failing, and it will taste more like a raisin bread and less like the document. Below that the crumb tightens noticeably, because the sugar is doing structural work — holding water, slowing the gluten, and keeping the loaf soft for the several days a cake baked for a fixed date had to survive. Miss Ely's proportion, a pound and a half of sugar to two quarts of flour, is the one being followed here.

Is this Amelia Simmons's recipe?

No, and that is worth being exact about. Her American Cookery of 1796, printed in Hartford, contains no election cake and does not use the word once. It contains the same cake under the name Loaf Cakes — twelve pounds of flour, eighteen eggs, six pounds of raisins, a pint of emptins, brandy and wine — which is the direct ancestor by construction. An undated Albany edition of her book is usually credited with the first printed Election Cake, but the standard bibliography of American cookery books dates that edition only to about 1800 and calls it the third, and no copy of it could be read from here.

Why yeast instead of baking powder?

Because every dated version before 1890 is raised with yeast, and because the flavour is the reason the cake is remembered. Three of the eleven Hartford receipts do add soda, cream of tartar or baking powder alongside the yeast as insurance for so heavy a batter — one of them says only that half a teaspoonful of soda dissolved in warm water "will be safe", so a chemical helper is not a modern betrayal — but a loaf raised with baking powder alone is a fruit cake, not an election cake, and it loses the faintly bready, faintly sour note that the overnight rise puts in.

What was election day, and why a cake for it?

In Connecticut the day meant the opening of the General Assembly and the governor's inauguration, held in Hartford and, in alternating years until the 1870s, in New Haven — which is why the Stonington Mirror of 14 May 1874 is writing about "inauguration day in New Haven" and about election cake in the same paragraph. It was a public holiday with a crowd to feed, the baking was done days ahead, and the cake was sold as well as given. The same paragraph records the trade going badly that year: "Election cake had very meager sales and was said to have been slack baked."