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Forget what you think you know about fruitcake

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Forget what you think you know about fruitcake

“There’s a lot of terrible candied fruit out there, unfortunately …” says cookbook author Camilla Wynne. “It’s fair that they get a bad rap, but they aren’t representative of candied fruit generally.” In her book Nature’s Candy, Wynne guides cooks through making not-terrible candied fruit, for cakes such as the Stollen Pound Cake, above.

Mickaël A. Bandassak/Appetite by Random House


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Mickaël A. Bandassak/Appetite by Random House

For generations of Americans, making fun of fruitcake has been a holiday tradition. Even Sabrina Carpenter cannot resist piling on. “Fruitcake just makes me sick,” the pop star intones in a song on her new Christmas album that happens to be called Fruitcake.

But a Canadian pastry chef and master food preserver would like us to reconsider our assumptions. Camilla Wynne is the author of a new cookbook called Nature’s Candy. It’s an ode to the pleasures of candying fruits — and even the occasional vegetable — and baking with them.

Wynne said she completely understands why fruitcake got stuck with such a terrible reputation.

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Nature's Candy: Timeless and Inventive Recipes for Creating and Baking with Candied Fruit

“I think it’s because there’s a lot of terrible candied fruit out there, unfortunately,” she said. “Bright red or bright green glacé cherries, and the problem with those, of course, is that they don’t taste like anything. It’s fair that they get a bad rap, but they aren’t representative of candied fruit generally.”

Fruitcake is fantastic, says Wynne, if you use excellent fruit, especially fruit you candy yourself. Still, the idea of candying fruit at home seems daunting at best, at least to this NPR reporter (and enthusiastic amateur baker). “Oh, I hate that you’re intimidated!” Wynne said in response to the hesitancy, “That’s like the last thing I want. [But] people are. I understand that.”

Candying fruit, Wynne insisted, is not any harder than boiling eggs. The technique is, basically, briefly simmering fruit in sugar water over the course of a few days.

“I’m candying a bunch of whole figs right now,” she said. “Every day, it’s not much more than watering your plants. They need to simmer for 10 minutes, so when I’m setting up to make dinner, I’ll just turn them on and put on the timer.”

Those candied figs are put to succulent use in Wynne’s Florentine tart recipe, along with candied cherries and orange peel. Even to a fruitcake skeptic, the cake recipes in Nature’s Candy look delicious. Her Tropical Terrazzo Cake (recipe below) uses coconut milk, lime juice and an array of candied tropical fruits. The cookbook also includes plenty of non-fruitcake recipes, such as caramel corn with candied ginger, and strawberry sugar cookies with candied jalapenos.

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“You get all this jalapeno syrup with it too, and it makes a really good base for margaritas if you’re into that kind of thing,” Wynne noted with relish.

Back in the lockdown days of the pandemic, she added, many home cooks turned to baking bread. Candying your own fruit is similar, she says. It brings a sense of scaling up skills and quiet contemplation to the kitchen during a moment marked by violence and institutional turmoil around the world.

“Unwind, de-stress and connect to beauty,” Wynne suggested. “The world’s a bit nuts.”

And what goes better with nuts, after all, than candied fruit?

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Tropical Terrazzo Cake

By Camilla Wynne

“They paused to breathe in steam rising from the oven and took extra helpings of pound cake sliced to reveal a terrazzo pattern of candied citron and glace fruits,” writes John Birdsall in one of my favorite culinary biographies, The Man Who Ate Too Much. The idea for this sturdy pound cake studded with chunks of candied tropical fruits and glazed with tart lime syrup came from that single line in this biography of icon James Beard. The book is full of literary descriptions like this that pull you right into the action, making it a pleasure to read. Most importantly, the book doesn’t downplay his queerness. I recommend reading it while you enjoy a slice of this cake. Use a variety of candied tropical (or tropical-adjacent) fruits, keeping in mind that it can always be a mixture of homemade and store-bought. I usually use pineapple, kiwi, papaya, citron, ginger, and cactus pear.

Serves 16

For the Cake

230 g (1 cup) unsalted butter, at room temperature (very soft)
533 g (2⅔ cups) sugar
1½ tsp salt
Zest of 1 lime
6 eggs, at room temperature
420 g (3 cups) all-purpose flour
250 mL (1 cup) full-fat coconut milk
500 g (2 cups) drained and chopped (½- to 1-inch pieces) mixed candied fruit, reserving the syrup

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Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C).

Generously grease and amply flour a 10- to 12-cup Bundt pan and refrigerate the pan until it’s time to fill it.

To make the cake, in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the butter, sugar, salt, and lime zest until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition.

With the mixer running on low speed, add one-third of the flour and then half of the coconut milk. Alternate until all the flour and coconut milk are incorporated.

Scrape down the sides of the bowl, then beat on medium-high for 30 seconds to make sure everything is well blended. Fold in the chopped candied fruit.

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Transfer the batter to the prepared pan. Give the pan a hard tap on the countertop to help settle the batter. Bake for 1 hour and 10 minutes to 1 hour and 20 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.

Cool on a wire rack for 10 minutes. Meanwhile, make the syrup.

For the Syrup

125 mL (½ cup) candied fruit

syrup (see Note)

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60 mL (¼ cup) lime juice

2 Tbsp dark rum (optional)

NOTE You can use any candied fruit syrup for this recipe or use the reserved syrup from the cake method. To make the syrup, in a small pot, combine the syrup and lime juice. Bring to a boil and cook until it is reduced by half. Remove from the heat and stir in the rum, if using.

To assemble, carefully turn the cake out of the pan. Use all the syrup to brush the cake all over the top and sides. Cool completely. The cake will keep, well wrapped, at room temperature for at least 5 days.

Excerpted from Nature’s Candy by Camilla Wynne. Copyright © 2024 Camilla Wynne. Published by Appetite by Random House®, a division of Penguin Random House Canada Limited. Reproduced by arrangement with the Publisher. All rights reserved.

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Edited for radio and the web by Meghan Sullivan, produced for radio by Chloee Weiner, produced for the web by Beth Novey

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‘How to Rule the World’ explores education and power at Stanford University

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‘How to Rule the World’ explores education and power at Stanford University

Students walk on the Stanford University campus on March 14, 2019, in Stanford, Calif.

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Ben Margot/AP

When Theo Baker arrived at Stanford University a few years ago, he joined the student newspaper, following the path of his journalist parents, Peter Baker, a White House correspondent for The New York Times, and Susan Glasser, a writer for The New Yorker.

Through his reporting as a student journalist, he eventually broke a story about manipulated data in Stanford President Marc Tessier-Lavigne’s neuroscience research that helped lead to the university president’s resignation.

Theo Baker’s book, How to Rule the World: An Education in Power at Stanford University was released May 19. In it, Baker describes Stanford as a place where proximity to Silicon Valley gives rise to a parallel system of influence, recruitment and money, with investors looking to identify promising students almost as soon as they arrive on campus.

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He told Morning Edition host Steve Inskeep there was “a sort of Stanford inside Stanford,” where elite students are drawn into an “alternate reality” of excess and access to cut corners.

In the interview, he discusses how Stanford is not just a university but also a pipeline where status and power can matter as much as ideas.

We reached out to Stanford University for comment and have not heard back.

Listen to the interview by clicking play on the blue box above.

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OTB Takes Full Control of Viktor & Rolf

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OTB Takes Full Control of Viktor & Rolf
The Italian fashion group behind Diesel and Maison Margiela is taking full ownership of the avant-garde haute couture house, acquiring the remaining 30 percent it didn’t already own. Founders Viktor Horsting and Rolf Snoeren remain creative directors.
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How having zero points in tennis — or ‘love’ — came to sound so sweet

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How having zero points in tennis — or ‘love’ — came to sound so sweet

The scoreboard shows the results of the women’s singles final match between Iga Swiatek of Poland and Amanda Anisimova of the U.S. at the Wimbledon Tennis Championships in London, Saturday, July 12, 2025.

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Kirsty Wigglesworth/AP

Fifteen points in tennis? Nice. Thirty, 40 — even better. Advantage — that sounds good. “Love” — that also must be great, right? Well, not quite.

As the French Open rolls on and Serena Williams has announced her return to the sport, maybe you’ve been paying a little more attention to tennis. The sport’s scoring system is notably distinct, and can sometimes be hard to grasp for newcomers. But even tennis aficionados might not know why, or how, “love” became the unmistakable callout for zero points. For this installment of NPR’s Word of the Week, we’re exploring how a word that signifies trailing behind got such a sweet name.

“Love” comes from the heart — or an egg?

It’s hard to pinpoint when the first tennis ball went over the net. Tennis is a derivative of lots of other sports, such as “jeu de paume,” a handball game played in France, said JT Buzanga, the collections manager at the International Tennis Hall of Fame museum.

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But tennis became a patented, official sport in 1874, said Steve Flink, a journalist whose tennis coverage got him inducted into the International Tennis Hall of Fame. It has retained its unique, mysterious scoring system ever since.

“By and large, the original system has held up almost entirely,” Flink said.

The use of “love” goes back to the late 18th century, said Jesse Sheidlower, a lexicographer. But it was used earlier than that in card games such as whist and bridge. Before the term made its way to tennis, the sport favored plain old “nothing,” or “nil,” he said.

Why love in the first place, though? Historians don’t really know for sure, but there are a few theories.

The French could have something to do with it. Some historians believe “love” derives from “l’oeuf,” which means “the egg” in French. Because eggs are shaped like zeros, terms such as “goose egg” and “duck’s egg” have been used in other contexts to mean zero, Sheidlower said.

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It’s also possible English speakers mispronounced l’oeuf as “love.” But Sheidlower isn’t convinced that’s the answer.

“It’s the French equivalent of an English expression. But since that expression doesn’t appear in French, the French word wouldn’t have been used,” he said.

To be sure, France has had a lot of influence on tennis culture, Buzanga said. For example, “deuce” or a game tied at 40 points, comes from the French word for “two”: “deux.” But he prefers another prominent theory: that “love” comes from the idiom “for the love of the game.” Even if a player hasn’t scored, it doesn’t matter, because their heart is in it. It’s the theory Sheidlower said is the most plausible, because the idiom was used by the English before tennis was popularized.

Another variation of the “love of the game” theory is that the word could have come from the Dutch “lof,” or “honor” — or the Latin “amare,” meaning “to love,” Flink said.

But if tennis’ “love” doesn’t come from a French word, the theory at least has a French sensibility.

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“I think the ‘for the love of the game’ is kind of romantic,” Buzanga said.

“Love” probably isn’t going anywhere

Tennis used to be a sport of leisure. The style of play has changed a lot over the years; players are more athletic and competitive, for instance, Flink said. But the rules of the sport are more steadfast, he said.

“There’s this incredible, enduring respect for tradition in tennis,” he said. “Changes are not made easily.”

There has been one major change in modern history: the tie-break. Matches can go on and on because players have to score two consecutive points to break a deuce, or by two games to break a tied set. But the onset of television meant matches would have to get shorter if the sport wanted to capture a larger audience, Flink said.

Change even came for “love.” An alternative sprouted up in the 1970s, and is still used today: “bagel,” named for its zero shape, Sheidlower said. Novices may say “zero,” and insiders will understand what they mean, but they “will needle them about it,” Flink said.

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But “love” still prevails.

“People kind of like it,” Flink said. “It’s different. Why say zero when you can say love?”

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