I know what you’re thinking. Fruitcake? Really? And yes, I am well aware of fruitcake’s reputation as the bane of the holidays. But fruitcake doesn’t have to be a joke. Yes, it is dense, but it should be sliced thinly — it’s really a confection, not a cake, and it’s impolite to go into “doorstop” territory. And yes, it does last a very long time, but that’s because it’s impregnated with alcohol, and don’t try to convince me that’s a bad thing. Plus, you really should at least taste it before you save it to be regifted next Christmas. And yes, it does contain candied fruit, but my recipe is a relatively restrained mix of candied orange peel, raisins and currants, with nary a scary green cherry in sight.
The simple fact of it is that you can’t have a properly Dickensian Christmas without fruitcake (although even Charles Dickens himself made fun of the thing). It’s called Christmas cake in England and is a tradition which dates back to the middle ages, when preserving fruit through candying, drying, and soaking in alcohol was necessary to get through the long dark winter months. Fruitcake reached its zenith of popularity in the Victorian era, and is still a ubiquitous Christmas treat in England today. As the butt of all jokes today, recipes abound for all sorts of nontraditional cakes that even “fruitcake haters will love”, but they fail to connect to the truth. A cake with fruit is not necessarily a Fruitcake. If it’s light and fluffy, it’s not a Fruitcake. If there’s no alcohol involved, it may be delicious, but it’s not a Fruitcake. Properly made Fruitcake has a haunting complexity and a richness of flavor that’s perfect for the holiday season. And if you don’t finish it, you can keep “feeding” it with brandy and snitching slices until next Christmas.
