The Lasting Legacy of Fruitcake
Plus, two recipes to try this holiday season
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If you’ve ever attended a Southern gathering in December, you know that fruitcake will be present—whether it’s eagerly anticipated or politely endured. There it sits, resting proudly on a beautiful pedestal plate in the center of the table, right next to the deviled eggs and pecan pie, as though it were the guest of honor. Unmistakable, unchallenged—its place on the table is as secure as tradition itself.
Fruitcakes have a way of inspiring strong reactions. Guests may glance nervously at it, exchanging whispers and casting sidelong glances, as if unsure whether to approach it or simply admire it from a distance. “Well, bless its heart, it’s homemade,” Aunt Hilda would say, her tone filled with the kindness that only a Southern matriarch could muster, trying her best to put a polished spin on a cake that might double as a doorstop.
But Southern hospitality knows no bounds. You don’t have to love it, but you will partake. So, you take a tentative slice, chew slowly, nod thoughtfully, and with the politeness that only Southerners can perfect, you say, “Mmm, that’s real nice. Y’all make this yourselves?”
Most fruitcakes are lovingly soaked in bourbon, rum, or moonshine, transforming them into what we consider a true Southern delicacy. We like our fruitcakes like we like our friends—wild, unpredictable, and always a little strong.
Defending fruitcake has become a Southern sport in itself. “It’s an acquired taste,” we insist, as if that somehow elevates the experience to one of refined sophistication. But in truth, it’s not so much about the flavor as it is about the tradition—the deep-rooted heritage that accompanies each slice.
Fruitcake is part of the Southern Christmas charm: quirky, bold, and, in its way, timeless. The joy isn’t found in the cake itself, but in the stories it holds, the memories it evokes, and the love it represents.
Of course, those who don’t appreciate fruitcake often associate it with the mass-produced, commercially-made variety—laden with poor-quality glacéed fruits and devoid of character. But true fruitcake, lovingly crafted with care and tradition, is something entirely different. It’s the only food durable enough to become a family heirloom, passed down through generations, each recipe a link in a long chain of culinary history.
Perhaps you’ve never had a homemade fruitcake, made with the finest glacéed fruits, rich organic farm-raised eggs, and Irish butter, generously laced with rum, bourbon, or sherry. Such a fruitcake has the power to convert even the most hardened fruitcake skeptic. I was won over years ago after reading Chef Roland Mesnier’s book, A Sweet World of White House Desserts. As the pastry chef for five U.S. Presidents, he created cakes so breathtakingly delicious that their legacy continues to inspire chefs worldwide.
“The sooner fruitcakes are made, the better they will taste,” Mesnier writes. “It is almost impossible to age a fruitcake too long. They’re even better the second year.” He goes on to explain that you don’t need special pans to bake a fruitcake. It can be prepared in everything from round cake tins and loaf pans to coffee cans or even frozen orange juice containers.
But the key to fruitcake’s success is in its storage. “Fruitcakes should be stored in a cool place, but not the refrigerator,” Mesnier advises. “Cover them with cheesecloth soaked in spirits and keep them in tightly covered containers or well-wrapped in aluminum foil. Periodically, check the cakes and remoisten the cheesecloth if it has dried out. Store them in a tin or foil until a week before serving, then rewrap and sprinkle with more spirits.”
Fruitcake, with all its bold and boozy glory, will forever remain a Southern staple—much more than just a dessert. It’s a symbol of tradition, heritage, and hospitality that is unyielding and steadfast. For those who embrace it, fruitcake is a piece of history, a memory wrapped in rich flavors and spiced sweetness, destined to be enjoyed for many Christmases to come.
So, the next time you’re at a Southern table, take a moment to appreciate that humble slice of fruitcake. It may not win any beauty contests, but it will forever hold a place in the heart of Southern tradition, where boldness and love collide in the most unexpected ways.
May you enjoy this delightful, festive fruitcake that’s as rich in tradition as it is in flavor. Also, be sure to click the link below to try
’s recipe for fruitcake cookies—a unique twist on a longstanding holiday tradition.
White House Fruitcake
By Pastry Chef Roland Mesnier
Yields: 2 Loaf Cakes