Apparently, I’m a fruitcake

I told my bff tonight that I really liked fruitcake, and it was clear from her reaction that she thought I was as nutty as one. She doesn’t like it at all. I tried explaining that she was wrong, that she clearly had never had my Grandmother’s fruitcake. Law, law, that fruitcake was so good! It was moist and full of nuts and so much candied fruit that it plainly qualified as an antioxidant, no pills needed. Words just fail to describe this delightful culinary goodness, but perhaps it will help explain it when I tell you that one year, that’s what I asked for for Christmas. She made it, too, and I kept it in the freezer, and surreptitiously served myself slices now and again while the kids were in bed. It lasted a couple of years that way. I even tried telling her that surely in heaven, her dad (who loved fruitcake) and I would get all the fruitcake, and she would be mad there becasue she would finaly know how good it was, but wouldn’t get to have any, for her fruitcake dissing down here below. She remained unimpressed, though.

So, what brought all this on? During the family gatherings after Grandmother passed, I mentioned that when Mama found her recipe books, I wanted the fruitcake recipe, and I talked (perhaps enthusiastically) about how much I enjoyed Grandmother’s fruitcake. My aunt said there was a little store she knew of that sold fruitcake around the holidays, and she would see if they had some. Then when we had our family Christmas on January 12th, she brought me a small cake of it. I finally cut it tonight, after one of the kids tried to throw it out. Ya’ll, it is good. It is not Grandmother’s fruitcake, as it doesn’t have quite as much fruit, but it is very, very close. And very, very good. So, umm, guess what I want for Christmas next year?

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