The holidays are over, but we all know that fruitcake lasts forever.
This Christmas we spent a month visiting my parents in the Pacific Northwest. My lungs were refreshed from the thick, hot India days, by the crisp air and wide open spaces and the kids got the “Winter Wonderland,” and “White Christmas,” they had wished so hard for. Driving through Spokane one day I wriggled in my seat and begged for my dad to stop the car, like I had as a child, jumping out here and there throughout the city to photograph a fairy tale home. The Craftsman-stye architecture, frosted with white snow and winter berries was too much for this design lover to resist.
Another day, Paul and I attempted one of my favorite country back roads and experienced something just past the comfort zone of magic, winding our way through wheat fields in the noon day sun. The normally pristine black asphalt and bright yellow lines were covered in snow, drifts of snow, and devoid of all tell-tale shadows. Blinded by the loss of guidlines keeping us on the road and not in the ditch or a snowdrift, I snapped only a few photos while we white-knuckled our way back to civilization. I made Paul swear not to tell my parents. The cat’s out of the bag now, but I’m sure I’ll be able to smooth any of my parent’s anxiety over with the warmth of this Fruitcake Elixir on our next visit. Right Mom?
I used to run screaming at the mention of fruitcake, but like most things, even my taste-buds have gotten better with age. My dad swears by a little, jewel-studded hunk by the name of Claxton, from his childhood in South Carolina and that’s just who inspired this liquid rendition. While the snow still falls and the frost bite continues to bite, the nutty, fruit-filled amber glow of this fruitcake elixir is sure to warm you from within.