When it comes to fruitcake, you either really, really love it, or really, really hate it. Miss MoneyPenny comes down firmly on the side of the fruitcake lovers, and does not understand those ghastly games of fruitcake catapult that you hear about. That is a terrible waste of good fruitcake!
I've never met a fruitcake that I didn't just love, but my mom made the world's best. Actually, I had my first gall bladder attack because of fruitcake. Mom sent me home with a big wedge of it and just like she taught me, I toasted it and buttered it up for breakfast. After I ate it, I thought that I was having a heart attack and was going to die anyway, so I went shopping. I must have been a strange color because all the clerks looked at me funny, but I made it to have several more attacks before I finally gave up and had that useless thing removed.
I digress. When I was a child, Mom would make the fruitcakes in the fall. They were the kind with lots of those candied fruits and lots of nuts. Every Sunday we would go out to her canning shelf and pour a jigger of brandy over each of the little cheesecloth wrapped beauties. By Christmas they were definitely ready to party. What was not to love? Alcohol and sugar. What a great combination.
I am now in possession of Mom's recipe and discovered that it is from the 40s. When I finally get around to retiring, I'm going to make that recipe and do the brandy thing, too. Since I no longer have that pesky gall bladder, I can enjoy fruitcake for breakfast, slathered in butter, of course, and think of Mom.
If there are any other lovers of traditional style fruitcake out there, leave a comment and I will send you Mom's recipe. You won't be sorry.