My Fruitcake REccipie

I was talking with Basil the other day and he mentioned that his wife makes fruitcake.

Now, in my neck of the woods, there's this place called Claxton. And Claxton makes too things: Fried chicken and Furitcake. I mean Fruitcake. (sorry about the spelling, but this computer is acking up tonight)

Now, Claxton fruitcake is pretty famous. Folks from all over the world (plus New York and california) will buy fruticake from Claxton. Even more will get it as a gift. But hardly nobody eats it.

And Basil's wife says that it's because they don't make it as good as her fruitcake. And him and me talked more about fruticakes at Christmastime.

All this talk of dry fruitcake made me pine for the days of yore when I would help grandma make Christmas cake. Here's the recipe (as best as I can remember it, it's a little fuzzy):

You'll need the following: a cup of water, a cup of sugar, four large eggs, two cups of dried fruit, a teaspoon of baking soda, a teaspoon of salt, a cup of brown sugar, lemon juice, nuts, and a bottle of whiskey. NOTE: Whiskey may be replaced with your favorite swill beverage. Being of Scottish ancestry, me and grandma naturally used Scotch.

Directions:

Sample the whiskey to check for quality.

Take a large bowl. Check the whiskey again. To be sure it is the highest quality, pour one level cup and drink. Repeat. Turn on the electric mixer, beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl. Add one teaspoon of sugar and beat again.

Make sure the whiskey is still okay. Cry another tup. Turn off the mixer. Break two leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit. Mix on the turner. If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers, pry it loose with a drewscriver.

Sample the whiskey to check for tonsisticity. Next, sift two cups of salt. Or something. Who cares? Check the whiskey. Now sift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. Add one table. Spoon. Of sugar or something. Whatever you can find.

Grease the oven. Turn the cake tin to 350 degrees. Don't forget to beat off the turner. Throw the bowl out of the window, check the whiskey again and go to bed.

Merry Christmas everyboddy.