Aunt Virginia's Fruit Cake

When we returned from Connecticut, we found on our doorstep, delivered that very day, a box I have been anticipating ever since I was a very small child. Every year at Christmas, no matter where in this crazy world our family was stationed, we received a homemade fruitcake from Aunt Virginia, my Dad's baby sister.

Aunt Virginia has always been a favorite of mine, and my inspiration. She has a lovely singing voice and even sang on the Major Bowes Amateur Hour in her youth. She was in the first class of the WAVES during World War II, adding the fifth star to my grandmother's window. She and Uncle Arthur raised five great kids, all of whom are delightfully quirky and solid members of society, while she pecked away at a Masters in Library Science. She went to work at the Jervis Library in her home town of Rome, NY and really never stopped, claiming that she needed to earn her "gin money." (And, indeed, she does drink a martini each evening). She worked part time until this year when she retired from active service. "Retired," however, only means that she's at the library two or three afternoons a week as a volunteer. I'm not sure she'd like me to divulge her exact age in so public a forum, but she still drives herself to Boston or NYC, attends numerous social events weekly, takes a single pill a day and makes delicious fruitcake in her eighth decade.

Double wrapped in plastic and foil, Aunt Virginia's fruitcake is densely heavy for its size and redolent of brandy, preserved fruits and rich nuts. Cutting a slice requires a balance of strength and finesse, strength to cut through all the goodies held in place by the merest hint of cake and delicacy to keep the thin slice from falling apart. One eats only thin slices of this rich, rich dessert - I defy anyone to finish a larger piece.

This year's cake came in a box gaily decorated with a small fortune in flower stamps, an unexpected bonus of color and cheer, much appreciated on the receiving end. Each year, Aunt Virginia threatens to discontinue making fruitcakes as the ingredients are increasingly difficult to find but, so far, we have continued to benefit from her generosity and culinary skill.

Merry Christmas Eve! Don't you wish you had an Aunt Virginia? I thought so.