I love fruitcake. There. I said it.
I don’t really get all the insult jokes about fruitcake. It’s tasty.
The best part about Christmas was the fruitcake my parents made. Green and red maraschino cherries, of course. Other fruits, too, and nuts. Walnuts for sure, but I don't recall what else. I never had a hand in the creation and it’s been years since I had one of theirs so I can’t say. I think it had rum or brandy in the dough. Maybe both. I don’t know. I just remember it was good.
Seems to me it was put together around December 1 and then tucked away. Weeks later it was unwrapped and we tucked in. I ate as much as I could handle, and that was quite a bit.
I still get to eat fruitcake every year. My husband is a natural baker and really enjoys seasonal baking like Linzer Torte and Lebkuchen. But a few years ago I asked for fruitcake and he found a wonderful recipe that only has to sit for a few days. One year he made two or three of them for me and I would have happily eaten two or three.
So go ahead. Make fun of them. Ignore the amount of work involved and pretend that you’re one of the crowd of fruitcake–haters. Maybe you actually believe all the bad press they get. Good for you. But keep your fruitcake jokes to yourself. I don’t want to hear them.
And if you really despise them that much, then do us both a favour. Give it to me. I promise I’ll give it a good home, albeit a temporary one.