If loving fruitcake is wrong, I don’t want to be right

Fruitcake is the perennial punching bag of holiday confections, and hating on the stuff has become as much a Christmas pastime as caroling and watching Hallmark movies.

I blame Johnny Carson in 1978 when he famously quipped, “The worst gift is fruitcake. There is only one fruitcake in the entire world, and people keep sending it to each other.”

And, sure, when fruitcake is bad, it’s bad, a leaden brick of sadness that’s more building material than holiday treat.

But when it’s good, it’s a symphony of flavors, textures and aromas we all know and love. The rich sweetness of dried fruits, a bright tang of candied citrus peel and the earthiness of pecans all marry into a dense pound cake worthy of respect.

I’m definitely not alone in loving fruitcake. Two of the nation’s largest fruitcake producers, Collin Street Bakery in Corsica and Claxton Bakery of Claxton, Ga., sell a combined total of nearly 6 million fruitcakes annually. That’s four fruitcakes per person in San Antonio — a clear indicator that the nation’s fruitcake appetite goes well beyond gag gifts at white

elephant gift exchanges and ammunition for the annual Great Fruitcake Toss in Manitou Springs, Colo. (yep, that’s a thing).

So where are these secretive fruitcake lovers? Are we all enjoying our slices on the sly, shades drawn in the dead of night?

Enough with the shame, already! This is a dessert of noble lineage that deserves to see the light of day.

Fruitcake has graced the tables of Roman emperors, Egyptian pharaohs and British monarchs. The wheat and fruit

harvest was made into cakes soaked in booze for preservation in a time before refrigeration, the alcohol extending its shelf life for months, if not years, at room temperature.

Today, most of the U.S. supply of fruitcakes is made in the South, where pecans are plentiful. And even though we now have refrigerators, we still soak fruitcakes in alcohol because sometimes it’s more polite to eat your booze than drink it. Right, Aunt Edna?

I mean, let’s be honest. She was always a lot more fun after a few slices. And, bonus, once she

passed out, the remaining highoctane fruitcake could be used as a Sterno alternative to keep leftovers hot.

The time is right to make loving fruitcake cool again. I mean, if Gen Z could make shuffleboard and mullets trendy again, can fruitcake be far behind? And as we come out of the pandemic this holiday season, many of us are craving the comforts of a bygone era. Fruitcake is there to sooth us with its warm embrace like a sugary weighted blanket for our beleaguered souls.

Did my words tempt you toward fruitcake? It’s too late to make one at home for Christmas, as they can take anywhere two months to 25 years make from scratch. (Seriously, in 2017 someone found a 106-year-old fruitcake in Antarctica, and it was still in near-mint condition.)

So if you want to buy one now, there are three I can recommend.

Collin Street Bakery sells excellent fruitcake in 2-pound, ring-shaped cakes that are 27 percent pecan and include tropical fruits such as papaya and pineapple. They start at $30.95 at collinstreet.com, but you can also find them for $28.82 at H-E-B stores.

Claxton Bakery’s 1-pound rectangular cakes are heavy on raisins in addition to candied cherries, pecans and other traditional ingredients for a flavor that’s familiar and comforting. They’re available in a two-pack for $23.95 at claxtonfruitcake. com, or individually for $19.90 at Walmart stores.

H-E-B also makes a respectable fruitcake that is widely available in stores during the holidays for $14.40 for a 1-pound rectangular cake. This version provides a good balance of pecans and dried fruit with a jolly note of candied citrus rind.

And if you still hate fruitcake after trying one of these, we’ll just have to agree to agree that you’re wrong.

Paul Stephen / Staff file photo Georgia-based Claxton Bakery’s comforting fruitcake is packed with traditional ingredients.