Hope's Corner: Fruitful Pursuits

I was a bad steward of my Christmas fruitcake. If my Christmas fruitcake were the subject of a parable, I definitely would be on that rocky road to an exceptionally hot place.

Ever since I can remember, my dad would buy a Christmas fruitcake from a Texas company that had been selling fruitcakes for at least forever. They would arrive in the mail, and the best part – at least when I was little – was the tin they arrived in. It had a picture of a cowboy, a picture of a horse-drawn carriage, and a picture of some people dressed up in old timey winter gear. My dad said the cowboy was from Texas. He was not too sure about the people dressed up in winter coats and hats.in pd

There were repurposed fruitcake tins in use all over our house. One was in a bedroom closet, filled with buttons. Another was in a kitchen cabinet, filled with screws and bolts and stray hardware. There were several in the garage, in places I was not allowed to explore. I imagined those were filled with fairies and leprechauns. Most likely, however, they were full of drill bits and small wrenches.

Yeah, I was more interested in the tins than in the fruitcake back in those days. I liked the idea of cake a lot, but the fruitcake did not resemble any birthday cake I had ever seen. And I was not exactly opposed to fruit, so long as that fruit was strawberries. But fruit that was not strawberries, weighing down a cake that did not even have frosting on it? Nope.

After I went off to college, I broadened my horizons, cake-wise. I tried German chocolate. I tried poundcake. And after deciding that those un-icinged delicacies were, indeed, delicious. I gave fruitcake a taste.

Why, oh why, did I wait so long to enjoy fruitcake? What was not to like? Loads of candied fruit. Loads of pecans. And even a little bit of batter holding them all together. I was such a junkie, that my mom perfected her own fruitcake recipe, for the times that we ran out of the Texas cakes.

When I got married, I began buying those fruitcakes for my family. And I quickly learned that my new family was not interested in broadening their cake horizons. They refuse to eat German chocolate cake, too.

Every Thanksgiving I buy my fruitcake, and lovingly store portions in the freezer for upcoming holidays. Except this year. I served fruitcake at Thanksgiving, and then forgot my cake out in the garage. Until last week.

The cake was beyond consumption. The tin was untenable. I am sad and ashamed. And now I am wondering what I did with the leftover Thanksgiving turkey. I am a little afraid to tidy up the garage workbench.

Jackie Hope is the longest running Dickinson Press contributor and columnist. "Hope's Corner" is a weekly humorous column centered on a message of hope for residents in southwest North Dakota.