Let Them Eat Cake

Posted byKathy SimmonsPosted inFood, Gifting, HumorTags:, , , ,

We have all been there. Being presented with the dreaded fruit cake during holiday gift giving. This Americanized and far different version of the light and lovely, Italian Panettone, is often a leader in the well meaning but often sneaky world of “re-gifting.” Fruit cakes have been the core of cruel jokes the world over and polls demanding an honest answer, “fruit cake, feast or famine?”

This Christmas day, it was my turn. And so I sat with a frozen smile as my mother-in-law proudly bestowed the brilliant golden box before me. My three sisters moved their chairs closer and looked on with feigned interest and hidden smirks.

The lovely box was adorned with a bright red bow and contained several descriptive lines describing its contents; “Light as a feather and made with love from mother…” I pondered what mother, could do that to her family?

The enticing prose of the copywriter flowed “a painstaking seven day process to perfection in each loaf…” seven days might provide an explanation for the rock hardness of the cake.

And then the final line, “Bringing Families Together for Centuries.” Or apart for years. The real reason why families members don’t speak? Someone gifted another with a fruit cake.

Returning home that evening, I placed the gift on my kitchen counter furiously contemplating to whom I could pass it on. The Golden Rule, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” echoed in and out of my consciousness. Glancing again at the festive box it represented a cruel dichotomy – the outside an innocent Mr. Hyde and the inside, the despicable Dr.Jeckyl. In the end, I did the only reasonable thing possible. Pay it forward.

Our home borders a hundred acre nature preserve with every creature imaginable in residence. Waiting till night fall I carried the fruit cake out to the woods and removed it from the box. I gingerly placed it just off the walking trail near a bush resembling a small Christmas tree. With a new found lightness in my step I returned home. God Bless us everyone!

The next morning I poured myself a cup of coffee and with a pounding curiosity, made my way outside. Approaching the tree underneath where I had laid it the night before, I stared in confusion. The cake in all its splendor stood – untouched. Several pieces of fruit had been dislodged from the foundation and now lay scattered aside amid a large chunk of crumbled cake. I imagined a wily raccoon, delighted with his Christmas morning find, removing several with his delicate and agile paws, gobbling them furiously and then realizing in grave disappointment he had been duped. It was a fruit cake, plain and simple.

Inedible to both man and beast.

Published by Kathy Simmons

I am an ex New Yorker who still misses the vibrancy of the city. I seek out the humor in every day life and relay it through my stories in the hope others will appreciate as well. I love to write about growing up with my fantastically unique Irish mother whose memory inspires me every day. Although she is no longer with us, her antics are an endless staple for my tales. I currently live in Connecticut with my husband, two sons and toy fox terrier Anabel.

34 thoughts on “Let Them Eat Cake”

  1. Thanks for this morning’s smile. I guess I’m one of the minority who loves fruit cake. My maternal grandma made both a dark one and a blonde one and both were tender, moist, and delicious. My flavour memory comes alive just thinking about them.

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    1. Terry, others have expressed your view and to be clear, it is the generic fruit cakes, generally stale with hard candy atop that are the villains. There are, I am certain, other variations that are delicious. Happy New Year!

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  3. I have very fond memories of my grandmother’s Christmas fruit cake, but I have also had some terrible ones over the years. Done well, fruit cake can be a thing of joy, but done badly, they can be dry, hard and thoroughly nasty. I totally understand why putting it out for nature might be the only option if it wasn’t a good one.

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    1. Carol Anne, read my comment describing the difference between Fruit Cake (of which I wrote) and the lovely, light and delicate Panettone. Yes! completely different in texture and taste. Thank you for reading🌝

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    1. The best way to describe, is as follows…The American version of “Panettone” is commonly known as Fruit Cake and is a far cry from its light, airy and delicate gourmet cousin. In a way it’s like comparing two cuts of meat, Filet to Beef Shank. As a child I always shuddered at the taste of what appeared to be green olives atop which was no doubt, a Fruit Cake.

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      2. Haha at least it’s my interpretation but google fruitcake vs panettone and think most will agree there is marked difference😄 a few hilarious discussions about the merits(or lack of) abound…

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      3. Sometimes strange coincidences really do happen: just yesterday I saw a film in which a man entered a house before Christmas and said, “What a lovely smell!”
        The woman who lived in that house replied, “It’s the fruitcake.”
        Then the man asked, “Can I have some?”
        Answer: “No, we use it as a doorstop.” ……………..

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      4. This keeps getting better and better. Thank you, that was priceless. How about this one?
        “The worst gift is a fruit cake. There is only one fruit cake in the entire world, and people keep sending it to each other..,”
        Johnny Carson

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  10. Well there is fruit cake and fruit cake. I liked them as a child but the current ones you are obviously referring to here are sugar bombs to be gifted to diabetic enemies and stand back to see them go into a deserved life threatening shock. You should consider that option next time rathe than pick a fight with some innocent wildlife. Fruitcake and chocolate boxes are companions that are passed on and on in the Christmas dance until they finally reach someone addicted who hoards them as a years supply. Similar to Chinese New Year where you cart around boxes of oranges to give to your Chinese friends only to receive a replacement supply in return. You end up with boxes of oranges that slowly rot as you try to whittle them down before they turn into mush. The joys of traditional celebrations are immense.

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