PHIL AND FONZE'S FRUIT CAKES

Last year about this time I was talking with my buddy Alphonse Dotson, and the subject of fruitcakes came up.  I admitted that I liked fruitcakes, and he agreed, saying he missed having them around during the holidays.  Well, one thing led to another, and before long we'd hatched a plan to make our own fruitcakes.  Right.  Two old guys whose claim to fame as cooks is Alphonse's famous collard greens and my southern cornbread.  We've shared those two things on several occasions.  But fruitcakes?

So, we spent a couple of days in the kitchen here at the house looking up recipes on the internet.  We went shopping and bought the ingredients we needed, then started making cakes.  The first one was a bust because we overcooked it.  The second one was better, and after tinkering with the recipe a little and adjusting the oven heat, we came up with a good fruitcake.  We did one with wine and several with whiskey, and since I don't like booze in my food, some plain fruitcakes for me.  With each of armed with four or five cakes of our very own, we proceeded to inflict them upon anybody who got close to us.  I had less success than he did in getting people to try my fruitcakes.  Alphonse is a former defensive lineman for the Oakland Raiders, so he can be a little more persuasive than me. 

Yesterday morning, Alphonse came by to make more fruitcakes.  We ended up getting four done, and they came out pretty well . . . or at least it seems that way.  Fruitcakes need to age some, aren't really good until they've been sitting for a few days in the frig.  Fonze took his cakes home to doctor them with brandy and whiskey, so we won't know for a week what we've got.  The problem with two old dudes like us cooking is that both of us have this big is better attitude.  If the recipe says one tablespoon of vanilla, two is better.  If it says one cup of wine, a half bottle is better.  If it says one cup of pecans, three cups are better.  Our one cake recipe turns out to make two cakes, but that's understandable. 

The acid test comes when Aphonse's mother, who is 96 years old, give 'em the taste test in a few weeks.  She loved last year's crop of fruitcakes, and I think she'll like this year's as well.  And, you know, if you can please mama, that's second best to pleasing your wife.  My wife, by the way, tasted the fresh fruitcake last night and said, "Not bad."  That means B plus in wife talk.