On Thanksgiving morning I’d wake up to the sounds of nuts being chopped in the cuisine-art. Walnuts and almonds that had been toasted the night before. By breakfast time dozens of eggs were being cracked and before lunch I was mixing the butter, brown sugar and molasses – fruitcake was in full production.

We’re a family of traditions (hotdogs and chili for THE CHARACTER’s birthday, tony romas during the Oscars) and our greatest was that each year, from before I was born until my parents were empty-nesters, we’d make 48 dozen miniature fruitcake and deliver them to our nearest and dearest family and friends. Nearest and dearest is a broad term used to describe both the people we saw on a regular basis (half of my Hebrew school carpool) as well as those we maintained a relationship with exactly once a year, when THE CHARACTER and I sat quietly on their couch as my dad would play catch up on a lifetimes worth of happenings. But I’m getting ahead of myself…

I think it all started with a recipe my dad found in a newspaper while he was in law school. Needing something to do with his free time (post finals vacation?) he decided to make the fruitcake in cupcake form and share them with neighbors and friends. Although each year more and more people professed their dislike of fruitcake (ich), each year his group of friends grew so did his endeavor until before he knew what was happening he needed a bowl the size of a small child to contain the batter.

Growing up in Los Angeles, we would spend one weekend a month in Palm Springs and on our drive back in early November, still smelling of chlorine from our last early morning swim, we’d stop at Hadleys to pick up the necessary supplies (as well as a date shake because really, who can stop at Hadleys and not have a date shake?). In addition to the walnuts and almonds we also purchased bulk bags of dates, figs, currants, and red AND green candied cherries. On a separate excursion I’d go with my dad to the party supply store to find the proper packaging for our yet-to-be-baked holiday treats – each year trying to find a more suitable option. The number of mini-fruitcake that each family received on a given year fluctuated between 6-8, depending on how many people were on my dad’s list – and the state of the economy – thus, our packaging needed to be flexible too.

As the fruitcake came out of the oven they were transferred from baking tins first to the dining room table. Once that was covered, we moved on to the hutch and then all eight chairs, occupying any and every clean surface. We’d divide them into groups, place them in their packaging and wrap them with saran – completing the package, for those that we were shipping across the country, by sticking on a perfectly placed red, green, gold or white bow. This responsibility often fell to me and I took my job extremely seriously. I’d alternate colors so that one didn’t stand out more than the others. Some years I’d place each bow in the upper right hand corner of the packages, some years in the dead center – but once I made a decision of bow placement for the first package of the year, all other packages had to follow suit. As for the fruitcake that were not being shipped, the packages that were to be delivered – they remained bow-less for the time being.

In addition to fruitcake, a holiday picture was included in the package. Some years, as my mom was putting together scrapbooks, she would come across a shot of me and THE CHARACTER and would have copies made and that was that – a good year. Other times, when she was behind on scrapbooks we’d be forced to dress up and head into the woods (otherwise known as our elementary school play ground) to take roll after roll. And when all else failed we’d get dressed, again, and pose with the actual fruitcake. It was quite the process and part of the annual experience.

Then on Christmas Eve (yes, these JEWS delivered FRUITCAKE on CHRISTMAS EVE) we’d load the fruitcake into my dad’s little red convertible. Given that we averaged 27 in-person delivers a year, and the car was a two-seater, and there were three of us in the car – this proved to be quite the challenge. I’m not sure how my mom got out of fruitcake delivery but she never took part – her responsibilities ended once THE CHARACTER and I were dressed in coordinating (not matching) outfits and she waved goodbye.

My dad would spend the night before delivery updating his list – making sure that the route made sense. No matter what changes we made from year to year (this friend in, in that friend out – there was one rule to fruitcake – no thank you note two years in a row?, you were off the list, no exceptions) we always started off the day at the TWINS house (at various points in my life I refused to get out of the car) and ended at the home of the TALLEST MAN IN THE WORLD. Lunch was always after we stopped by Nani and Eddie’s and ranged from McDonalds to Dennys to KooKooRoo.

Because we always delivered on Christmas Eve, and because friends came to expect us, most would be home and prepared for a visit with brownies or a birthday gift for THE CHARACTER (the one year delivery was delayed was because of his arrival but no worries, my dad and I were out and about the day after Christmas – we were like the postman…no sleet, no snow, no rain could keep us from making sure the people received their treats!). I would sit in the front seat and THE CHARACTER would sit in the back. His job was to pull out the next box of fruitcake and hand it to me, along with a bow. I’d sort through the pile holiday cards and the bow and the card to the package of fruitcake.

Every year we’d arrive at NATE and ROSALIE’s and although ROSALIE would be sure that the year before we had delivered on Christmas, she was still prepared with a plate of cookies for us to take home. One year as we were finishing up our last few stops of the day, from the backseat THE CHARACTER asked, “what happened to that short lady?” and my dad and i turned to each other – JANETTE!! we totally forgot JANETTE, and immediately reversed our direction. we’d admire JANE’s christmas tree and drive across town to hit both sides of divorced couples. we’d replace fruitcakes when dogs got to it before their owners and we’d remind you that fruitcake lasts forever and makes great earthquake food. we visited new babies and spent time with really old people. and before JESSIE got sick, she was home alone and showed us her brand new driver’s license.

Even when we moved across the country, for the first few years at least, we’d still make our annual deliveries. Sure it included the extra step of first shipping all the cakes to the west coast and then flying in. But our friends had come to expect us and we were not going to let them down.

We’d finish up and arrive home by 7, where my mom and all four grandparents would be waiting with hot dogs and chili. I’d roll my eyes and state that this was my last year delivering – period. But then somehow by the next year I’d be roped into the whole process again. Mixing the butter and brown sugar, attaching bows, matching outfits.