Fruitcake

Fruitcake can be very scary stuff. Let’s face it, sometimes the idea of a tradition is better than the tradition itself.

Fruitcake has two basic flaws. First, the garishly colored, hard, super sticky fruit lurking in most every fruitcake. I challenge anyone to eat this stuff naked right out of its little plastic carton. This “fruit” bears no resemblance to the luscious fruits of everyday life i.e., apples, pears, peaches, strawberries, plums and grapes.

The second problem is fruitcake’s density. Miss Piggy really did give the best diet advice ever uttered, “Don’t eat anything you can’t lift.” Two square inches of fruitcake would make an admirable boat anchor.

When I was a young mother, our neighbor gave us one of her special Christmas fruitcakes every year. Naturally, my husband and two children wouldn’t touch the thing. Since I was raised never to waste food, I would make noble attempts to eat this fruitcake Rock of Gibraltar. Finally, I couldn’t face one more of her uninspired creations. And I hit on the perfect means of disposal. No food would be wasted, and a new tradition would be born.

On the day after Christmas, my husband and I drove to a local park at midnight. This park was where my favorite bird, crows, all gathered in the trees at dusk to roost. We stood on a high hill and shot the fruitcake like a discus into the meadow next to their rookery. I’m certain the crows enjoyed it for breakfast. The Annual Fruitcake Toss continued for many, many years.

Ironically, I do bake a small fruitcake every holiday season. All the fruit in it is recognizable and could stand on its own merit. If you try this recipe and don’t like it, you now know what action to take.

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