Fruitcake 2025

The first year I tried to make a Christmas fruitcake, I started making plans for it in August. By September, I had found three different fruitcake recipes from which to choose. By October, I had decided on which recipe to use, and had bought all the dried fruit and other ingredients I would need for the endeavor. By the first of November, the fruitcake had been baked and the only thing left was to “nurse” it once a week with rum until Christmas Day.

This was back in 2018, and if I remember correctly, everybody took a taste of the fruitcake just to humor the old man, and the resounding opinion was for me to “please, don’t bake anything like that ever again.”

So, naturally, I made another one the very next year. Since I already had the recipe, I didn’t start gathering ingredients together until late September. But then a small hiccup hiccuped on my plans:

ME: “Honey, where’s my fruitcake baking pan?”

HER: “Oh no. Not this again.”

ME: “Funny. No, seriously. Do you know where it is?”

HER: “Just keep looking under things and you’ll probably find it; unless you don’t, which will mean no fruitcake this year, which will make me SO sad because you know how much I was really looking forward…”

ME: “Hey, hey, hey! I found it.”

HER: “Great, dear. Just great.”

If I remember correctly, everybody took a taste of the fruitcake just to humor the old man again, and the resounding opinion was, “Didn’t we tell him to never bake one of these things again? Is this the first sign of dementia?”

I thought the fruitcake wasn’t half bad. So I cut it up into small wedges and froze them, then ate a warmed-up piece once a month with my morning coffee. Still, I had so much left over by Christmas 2020, I didn’t need to make one that year. And nobody missed it.

I don’t know why I didn’t make a fruitcake in 2021 or 22 (PTSD?), but I readily admit that my “Back To Basics” Christmas 2023 attempt was an utter disaster. You see, the original recipe called for “nursing” the fruitcake with brandy, but I had been using rum. Surely, that must’ve been the reason my fruitcakes never lived up to their potential. So, I used brandy. Soaked that fruitcake every week with a shot or two of the stuff. And do you know what happened?

If I remember correctly, everybody took a whiff of the fruitcake and immediately claimed to be designated drivers. “You can’t ALL be designated drivers,” I said. “Oh, yes we can,” was their response.

When everybody was gone, I threw that fruitcake in the trash. I would’ve thrown it out in the woods, but who wants a drunk raccoon on the porch looking for a nightcap?

Christmas 2024 was my breakout year in fruitcake making. Maybe it was because I hadn’t tried so hard; maybe it was because practice makes perfect; maybe it was because somebody felt sorry for the old man. But I heard someone say, “Hmmmm. It’s not too bad.” Just one person. But that was enough. And then someone had seconds, which was a first. And when everybody had returned to their own homes, I saw there was hardly any fruitcake left for me to freeze and eat warmed up with my coffee throughout the new year.

Now that the temperature has changed, I’ve started thinking about fruitcakes again. Fruitcakes, hot chocolate, egg nog, and chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Who knows, maybe I’ll knock another fruitcake out of the park again this year, which is a whole lot better than having someone throw it out of the park. Yes?