Welcome to Brainstuff, a production of iHeartRadio Hey brain Stuff Laurin Vogel bomb Here. Each year in December, the US Postal Service delivers tidy, dense packages of certain baked goods into mailboxes across America, with a shelf life of up to three years and even longer if generously doused with rum. It's easy to see why they're so male friendly. But what exactly is fruitcake? In the parlance of our times?
Fruitcake is a sweet, rich, moist type of cake. The batter is traditionally made with wheat flour, eggs, butter, dark sugars, and warm spices like cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and allspice. It's heavily studded with dried and candied fruits and nuts. Most traditionally raisins, citrus, peel, and almonds, but honestly, anything goes and candied cherries are common. Modernly, a rich brown liquor
like brandy, whisky or rum is often incorporated. Either the fruits are soaked in it before being stirred in and or the finished cake is basted in liquor. For those who don't imbibe things like apple juice or vanilla syrup, can be substituted here. The overall effect is a little overwhelming, lots of heavy flavors and differing textures, but it basically tastes like Christmas time. There are a lot of different recipes. Some include other flavorings like cocoa powder. Some are coated
in a glaze and icing, or with marzipan. Fruitcake is a tradition that technically goes back to Roman times. It became a staple of festivals and today is widely associated with winter holidays. There are some ardently against these dense, fruit filled loaves. On average, they share a density with mahogany. Johnny Carson famously joked back in nineteen eighty five the worst Christmas gift is fruitcake. There's only one fruitcake in
the entire world, and people keep passing it around. In one survey, forty seven percent of people who received a gift of fruitcake reported throwing it away, eleven percent reported regifting it. Some reported using it as a doorstop, but there are some who are ardently for the fruitcake. A Texas based Collin Street Bakery, which has been providing fruitcakes since eighteen ninety six, produces more than one million a year. And ships to some two hundred countries. So how did
we get here? A culinary lore claims that ancient Egyptians placed an early version of the fruitcake on the tombs of loved ones. Perhaps is food for the afterlife, but fruitcakes weren't common until Roman times, when pomegranate seeds, pine nuts, and barley mash were mixed together to form a ring shaped dessert. A prize for its portability and shelf life, Roman soldiers often brought this version of fruitcake with them
to the battlefields. Later in the Middle Ages, preserved fruit spices and honey were added to the mix, and fruitcakes gained popularity with crusaders. When colonialism and enslaved labor brought down the price of sugar to merely extravagant, sugar was incorporated by the cupful. For diners and wealthy households, fruits from the Mediterranean were candied and added to the mixture,
along with nuts. When globalization made spices like nutmeg and cinnamon limitedly available and wildly posh, those spices went in too, making it even more of a special occasion treat. Various versions were banned by European leaders in the sixteen and
seventeen hundreds, naming fruitcake inappropriately decadent and therefore lewed. But it's always come back, and each successive century has contributed yet more elements to the cake, like alcohol during the Victorian era, until it became weighty with the cumulative harvests of the seasons. It does seem a bit old fashioned today, but it hasn't always been the butt of jokes. It was so popular through the nineteen sixties that it was part of the extremely limited menu sent into space with
the Apollo eleven moon landing astronauts. Defenders of these sometimes leaden loaves claim that those who abhor fruitcake just haven't had the right kind. So what is the right kind? And does density make it more delicious or more dangerous if, say, dropped on your foot. Let's begin by examining some statistics. The average fruitcake weighs two pounds and serves six to seven people. Its ability to languish on countertops for months without a spot of mold developing is due to its
moisture stabilizing properties, mainly sugar. The sugar in it reduces the cake's available water content and therefore reduces microorganism's ability to live in or on it. For fruitcake aficionados, the quality and type of the fruit can make or break the baked good. Although preference of but most agree that the fruitcake should be made at least one month in advance of its gifting or eating. Some make a fruitcake
one year in advance. This allows the cake to deepen its flavors, particularly since fruit contains tannins that, like wine, release over time. It's also common for the baker to add another seasoning dimension by feeding the fruitcake that is, pouring whiskey, brandy, or rum over the loaf every so often. The loaf can and should be heavy, but it must be moist and contain a variety of flavors in order to be successful. But some detractors from the fruitcake are
acting in good fun. For example, every January, the town of Manachu Springs, Colorado, gathers for their annual Great Fruitcake Toss. Aside from being a food drive for a local pantry, the event allows people to rid themselves of unwanted fruitcakes by hurling, tossing, or launching them with mechanical devices like catapults or spud guns. Although if you didn't bring your own fruitcake, you can rent one, and some attendees keep
theirs for reuse year after year. Since nineteen ninety four, individuals and teams have tested their projectile prowess with the promise of a trophy in several categories, including throwing distance by age group, tossing into baskets, a relay race, accuracy
when throwing through hoops, and mechanical toss for distance. Judges take the event seriously and make contestants adhere to standards such as weight divisions two versus four pound fruitcakes, launching distances, fruitcake contents they must contain glass, seed, fruits, nuts, flour and be edible, and launching devices non fuel devices only, thank you. There's also a too good to toss category
for people who actually enjoy making an eating fruitcake. In twenty twenty five, the event is being held on January twenty fifth, so if you're listening as this episode comes out, there's still time to plan for it. Today's episode is based on the article Ultimate Guide to Fruitcake on how Stuffworks dot Com, written by Julie Douglas and brain Stuff is production of iHeartRadio and partnership with how Stuffworks dot Com, and is produced by Tyler Klang, but four more podcasts.
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