Food that Doesn’t Kill for the Holidays

Are you one of those whack-jobs who makes a plate of treats for everyone in your neighborhood every time the Christmas holidays roll around? I am. Or was, once upon a time. Back when I was slightly deranged. I remember one particularly exhausting year making 60 or 70 treat-laden platters. And I'm not talking about throwing a handful of mini-marshmallows at a bowl of crispy rice cereal and calling it good. I'm talking homemade spiced nuts, Russian fudge, honey balls, butterscotch buds, truffles (not the kind that grow in the dirt and are hunted by wild boar in France; the kind made from chocolate, covered in more chocolate), and of course, my Ultra World Famous Fruitcake. No really. It's good. People say so. (Or it's possible they're being polite and I'm responsible for a new tradition in my neighborhood: the annual Discreet Chucking of Janiel's Fruitcake in the Neighbor's Trash.) 

But you know, I'm thinking of winding it down. I mean, our neighborhood is actually growing while our income isn't. And on top of that, I'm kind of thinking my baking luck is running out. Why? Genetics.

One year when we were newly married and living in Indiana, we came back to Utah to visit my mom for the holidays. Now she wasn't one to go crazy with the baking at Christmas. I mean, there were usually one or two festive sweets, but that was about it. That year, however, when we walked through mom's front door, all of a sudden there she was amid pots and pans, paper, ribbon, and ingredients. It was a thing to behold, and I was impressed. The Christmas spirit had gotten into her in a way I hadn't seen before. Why, there were homemade applets, and peanut brittle, date logs and marshmallow fudge–all delicately piled on plates, ready to go to the neighbors.  It was inspiring. And then…

"Ooh! Aplets! Can I have one?"

"Sure. I forgot to add the applesauce until after it was almost set so its a little lumpy, but I think it's okay."

"Ah. Chewy. How 'bout the peanut brittle? I'll just try a little."

"Yes. I love that recipe. Especially when I remember to add the baking soda. Which I didn't. Don't cut your gums."

"Ack! Okay. Wow. So, how about the date log? That's always goo–"

"I think it is luscious. Even without the graham cracker crumbs crushed in."

"Er. What did you use instead?"

"Well, I found some old–"

"Never mind. The fudge? You made that yourself, right? Let me just pop a piece into mmffmffmffggm."

"The marshmallows were pretty stale. But really, I've been eating it all night and I think it's fine."

After about 30 minutes of talking I was able to convince mom to offer something else to her friends. Something store bought. And I learned a valuable lesson: when it comes to taste-testing your baking, you should go with your first impression. Because once you've spent an hour pounding your tastebuds with slightly off flavors, the buds go numb and you could convince them that honey-dipped cardboard is a delicacy. In any case, this year I think I will play it safe and give a lot fewer than 70 plates to my neighbors. And just to be sure, that will be all I'm giving out; the plates. It's better that way. And no one's teeth will be marshmallowed shut in the process. You're welcome.