Ok, I really hate to break the secret, but I feel the time has come. The one box of fruitcake that is circulated around the world each year does get eaten. The person lives in the Midwest. His name is Charles and he is my father.
Yes, he loves fruitcake. He loves it so much that I thought about creating a P.O. box for people to forward their unwanted fruitcakes to this year. But, alas, he won't be home enough over the holidays to go and check on the treasure.
I don't know when the love of this awful fruity brick bread was formed though he did share recently that his mother or an aunt made a wonderful loaf of it when he was little.
Growing up I remember being forced to try it during a Christmas or two. Even in those moments when I tried to be really honest with myself, the end of the first bite would still end with that weird tangy and fruity flavor that I can almost re-create in my mouth right now. Ugh!
Apparently, fruitcake has been appealing to many peoples and cultures through time. How do I know this?
Perhaps my Dad won't see this post and I could still possibly pull off a P.O. box rental next year. I'll keep you posted.
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