Fruitcake Eaters

Someone has been eating the fruitcake.

A large platter of fruitcake was set out last night and by noon today, only two small pieces remained. I was shocked. “Who here likes fruitcake?” I demanded of my in-laws when I saw the telling remnants. There was an awkward silence and then my mother-in-law confessed, “Actually, I kind of like it…”

It was a sobering moment. I had so many accusations, questions, and pleas spinning in my head. My stare was fixed on the cake platter and I couldn’t understand how something this terrible could happen on Christmas Day. After six years of marriage into the Flake family, I suddenly discover them to be fruitcake eaters. How could I have known? The sick feeling in my stomach could only be compared to finding out that your spouse has contracted some devastating disease. Now what? Like so many before me, I realized that education was my only defense. Perhaps if I learned more about this disgusting food I would be able to ensure that others I love don’t contract a taste for it unwittingly. And so I did some research to better understand these people. These Fruitcake Eaters.

The oldest known fruitcake is approximately 130 years old and lives under glass in a Michigan home. It was baked by a woman in preparation for a Thanksgiving meal in 1878, but she died right before the holiday and her family didn’t have the heart to eat it. So instead of throwing it out, they saved it and passed it down through the generations. In 2005 this fruitcake made an appearance on “The Tonight Show” and Jay Leno actually took a bite. And just like every other fruitcake ever made in this world, it was nasty.

Basting fruitcakes with liquor and powdering them with sugar on occasion prevents mold and ensures their long shelf life. Many people believe this is the charm of fruitcake, similar to a fine wine, and will wait up to 25 years to eat them. The rainbow-colored chunks inside the cake are actually fruit despite their suspicious appearance. Standard ingredients are red and green candied cherries, dried pineapple, and raisins. Of course, anything can go into these monstrosities and recipes vary.

Fruitcakes have existed since Roman times but it appears people got fed up with them and in the 1700’s fruitcake was banned throughout Continental Europe for being “sinful.” Why that ban was lifted I’ll never know. But consequently, they have inspired such a rabid fan base that their continuance in our society is likely. Thanks to a zealous groups ensuring the perpetuation of outdated fads, you can now join The Society for the Preservation and Protection of Fruitcake, which gives a number of recipes and testimonials relating to people’s conversion to the dark side. Okay, so you really just eat the things for the liquor they have been soaking in for ten years. But this dirty little fact never has to face the light of day if you join this society and use their front of perpetuating ridiculous recipes and meaningless fruitcake trivia.

Sadly, it appears the recipe is here to say. But in our P.C. times, fruitcakes are just not acceptable. Since its inception, the word “fruitcake” had picked up several negative connotations in our society. It alludes to someone’s mental instability as well as being a pejorative slam on one’s sexual orientation. If we insist on keeping this nasty confection around, can’t we at least change its name to reflect our more sensitive era? How about “rum log” or “mummy-cake”? Do we really have to drag homosexuals and mentally unstable people into all this candied mess? It’s just not right.

In 2005, fruitcake was officially listed as a national security threat. Airline passengers were banned from bringing them as a carry-on when flying. Because of their extreme density, the x-ray machines at screening points were unable to determine if they contained hidden weapons and every fruitcake that went through security had to be carefully inspected. Rather than have to deal with all the fruitcakes (the food, not the people) flying around the county at Christmas time, the government simply banned them. But was this enough to stop their proliferation?

Heavens, no.

It turns out that several monasteries in the United States have taken to producing fruitcakes for added income. The 14 monks of Assumption Abbey in the Ozark Mountains of Missouri create 23,000 fruitcakes per holiday season. I wonder how much of the liquor that is bought for these cakes makes it into the actual product, but a vow of silence from the monks will keep that a secret forever. There are, however, other ways to capitalize on fruitcakes. Manitoba, Canada held its 12th annual Fruitcake Toss last January. The winner catapulted his fruitcake almost 450 feet. The festivities also included a beauty pageant where the most beautiful as well as the most revolting-looking cake were recognized and rewarded.

With this knowledge in hand, I am perhaps better equipped to face my in-laws for the remainder of my Christmas visit. Is it their fault that they fell prey to the alcohol-soaked confection? After all, there is a long, dark history of others who have been similarly seduced. My relationship with my husband’s family will forever be changed, but hopefully with increased global awareness and a concerted drive to keep this holiday cake away from our children, we can someday rid the world of this sick addiction. This is my Christmas wish. So please, over the holidays ask your loved ones if they too have taken to eating this dark treat late at night. It could be the most important conversation you’ll ever have.