"There's a little bit of fruitcake left in every one of us…"

Ask people what their favorite holiday is, and the answer you are most likely to get is either Thanksgiving or Christmas. It’s usually followed by a litany of reasons why it tops their list of days to be unshackled from their office desk, including: I enjoy gathering with loved ones and sharing a meal, I have so much to be thankful for, I love giving much more than receiving, Christmas is all about the children, blah, blah, blah, ad nauseam. I don’t like waiting for the federal government to tell me when I should roast a turkey or give a generous gift, and celebrating the year’s harvest at the end of November makes me wonder who was riding the short bus when they slated the damned feast fest. But the only thing I once detested more than scheduled merriment and scripted gift giving was the gastronomic Trojan horse known as the fruitcake. Dense enough to plug a leaking levee and sweet enough to cure an entire nation’s worth of hypoglycemia, the fruitcake truly was, in my mind, better to give than to receive.

In theory, what could be better than a spiced cake with dried fruit and nuts that has been doused so repeatedly with alcohol that it becomes a fire hazard? But any fruitcake I ever laid eyes on made my teeth hurt. And like a dolt I would try them anyway, green shiny cherries included—that whole morbid curiosity thing and all, I guess. Most friends dare each other to do simple shit like funnel a six of beer or moon a nun, but we used the fruitcake as the double-dog-dare ultimatum, which is pretty sad. In essence, it’s the ultimate fuck-you gift. The gift that says, “ I couldn’t be bothered. I loathe you. This is all you’re worth to me.” And from the recipient’s POV, it’s easily grounds for disownment, outcasting, excommunication or, at the very least, a session of Chinese water torture. Unfortunately, its cousin twice removed, the panettone, was equally as revolting and similarly maligned. But I am the bringer of redemption—the harbinger of taste—the savior of saveur. I have seen the promise land, and I tell you resolutely that it serves fruitcake.

How much would you love me if I gave you a recipe for fruitcake that beckoned loved ones to worship at your feet? And what if I gave you two recipes? What then? What would it be worth to walk into a party, hand the host a fruitcake completely without irony, and declare that the dessert has gotten a bum rap over the years, but YOU have single-handedly redeemed it? Hmmm? Take all the credit…go ahead, it’s OK, I don’t care. But if I hear you’ve been adding green candied cherries to these recipes, I’m sending the hounds out after you, got it?

Kick Ass Fruitcake
Kick Ass Chocolate Fruitcake

Tagged as: fruitcake