Spare a fruitcake for Moon Pappy?

fruitcake
Poor Moon Pappy. All he wants for Christmas is a fruitcake, but they’re getting hard to find. All the stores have fancy Italian holiday desserts like Panettone and Pandoro. Whatever those are, and don’t bother to tell me what those are because they sound like weapons in the War on Christmas.

Do stores no longer stock the classic and unfairly maligned delicacy that is fruitcake? Actually, some do.

Me: You don’t happen to have any fruitcake in here?
Williams Sonoma Guy: We do indeed, and it’s the best fruitcake ever!
Me: A bold statement.
WSG: It’s the only fruitcake I’ll eat.
WSG: But it’s not cheap.
Me: How much?
WSG:$46.50
Me: No thanks.
WSG (looks around and lowers his voice): My recommendation is to buy a really cheap drugstore fruitcake and douse it in alcohol.

Excellent plan, WSG. Moon Pappy, I love ya, but you are not getting a $46 fruitcake for Christmas. Also, the fruitcake was large (as a $46 fruitcake should be), and Mrs. Moon Pappy has banned large fruitcakes.

PS It is tempting to ask if anyone has a fruitcake from last year that I can regift to Moon Pappy. However, thanks to the Internet, this story has a happy ending.

7 responses to “Spare a fruitcake for Moon Pappy?”

  1. Clair

    Why not buy the big ass, $46 fruitcake and repackage it in smaller portions. Then you will be set for years to come.

    (Do I have to do all the thinking around here?)

  2. yoko

    Whole Foods has a decently sized fruitcake for about $8 or so. Lipby bought one for his family over Thanksgiving, and they actually ate it, without deleterious effects therefrom.

  3. Sassy J

    Becky, if you were a really good daughter you would get him a stint as a judge/taster at the Fruitcake Bake off in nearby Bethlehem. And, if you can’t swing that, you can always send him to any of the popular fruitcake catapult contests in January–where he can keep as many as he can catch.

  4. Moon Pappy

    Well, who have thought FC’s (fruitcakes) would cost so much. Actually all I can say about the one pictured is…”where is the Fruit”??
    Clair does have a good idea, simply divide it wrap the dividends in cheese cloth soaked in spirits…sorry Clair beer would simply not do).

    Grandpa Moon Pappy has your solution. A&P puts up a nice FC and cheap too. So are there any A&P around anymore?

    Another solution would be not to let Bethlehem have all the Christmas Thunder and have a local Philly or even Fishtown FC Bake Off. I am so excited just thinking about it. What doe one do to cleanse the palate between bits?

  5. Clair

    Thanks, Moon Pappy.

    I have a lot of good ideas but for some reason Becky doesn’t see it that way.

    (Between you and me, I think she is just jealous.)

  6. MailElf

    Tis the season for fruitcakes. Like those above, they’re usually light brown in color with red bits of cherry, a piece of a pecan or other nut here and there, and the occassional glimpse of green whatever-that-green-jelly-like-crap is they put in fruitcakes. Those cakes look harmless enough. But sometimes as a child, when Christmas neared, it became fruitcake season at my house. Grandma invaded our kitchen and for two to three days, batches of fruitcake batter were created so large that they were mixed with a canoe paddle (honest). Unlike the usual light brown fruitcakes in stores, these were nearly black; so dark that the cherries and nuts and green-thingies were only identifiable on close examination. Perhaps it was that the cakes were so dense that light had trouble escaping from their surface. In any event, unfortunate relatives were enlisted to come over and take shifts monitoring the oven around the clock until all of the fruitcakes were baked. Even less fortunate relatives received one of these cakes as their Christmas present. I was only a small lad when this was occurring, but I can recall that it was all so very necessary to make fruitcakes and that it took many bottles of whiskey to make them. I can still recall my grandma individually wrapping dozens of these great ten pound lumps of indigestion in layers of brown paper, then proudly inscribing the name and address of a distant relative on the paper and taking them to the post office. Perhaps it was the combination of my disdain for the awful taste of the cakes, or my tender years, but I always imagined Uncle Roger in California calling out to his wife, “Hey Bessie, come see. Somebody took a dump in our mailbox!”

  7. Becky

    Whoa. Canoe paddles? Whisky? Black holes? This is serious business. Thanks for sharing that, MailElf!