It’s Christmas time, fa la la la la. Pass the eggnog, but only if made with fake egg yokes, fat-free half and half, and Stevia raw sugar extract. Keep the brandy coming, tho guys. It’s going to be a tough season.
I write this because the lone fruitcake that has been circling around the globe for the past thirty plus years has gone missing. Unless someone ate it. Wait a minute! That can’t be. Fruitcake is the scourge of the holiday, the odd-man out, the little guy everyone likes to make fun of. I have it on personal authority that many a fruitcake has gone to bed sobbing each night at this sort of treatment. Fortunately, those tears are what keep it from drying out. Truly.
I say, wake up, America! We are losing one of our natural resources! Fruitcakes are an endangered species! I mean, when was the last time anybody served a fruitcake at a holiday party? And with pride?
I used to make fruitcakes all the time. It takes weeks. Then you store them soaked in booze for months. I started mine in early October. They were delicious. Everyone loved them. Truly.
Then I don’t know what happened. It’s always the little things at first that set the pattern.
“No, thank you, I’m trying to watch my weight.” Said after devouring five chocolate chip cookies.
“No thank you, I don’t drink.” Come on now! Something soaked in six or seven cups of brandy just heighten the experience! Truly.
“I’ve never really liked fruitcake,” said one friend. She has since been written off my gift list. I knew from the first, tho, this comment was the death knell of the holiday fruitcake.
I don’t bake fruitcake any more. A lot of work and it’s an ungrateful world out there. Now I order them online from Harry and David’s. And when I eat them, I wait until everyone has gone to bed then sneak out, and hide in the back of my larder. These fruitcakes are fabulous, a lot like mine, but not quite as much brandy. That’s okay. You can’t have everything.