I have a confession to make. I love fruitcake. I know, a nice Jewish girl has no business loving the red and green candied cherries but I do. Whole heartedly and unapologetically. I love it so much I even use candied fruitcake mix in my Rosh Hashana Challah. In my family fruitcake is a New Year’s tradition, eaten at midnight with a small glass of eggnog. As a kid I remember the excitement of the whole tradition. There was something exotic to me about grating fresh nutmeg over the glasses of thick rich eggnog, slicing the multicolored fruitcake and carefully carrying the tray loaded with goodies to the TV room where we would watch the ball drop. The best fruitcake, surprisingly enough, used to be the one we got at Costco. (my parents remember the Sears fruitcake and mentioned it each year, but they had stopped carrying it by the time I can remember). I don’t know if the Costco fruitcake was as good as I remember, or if it is nostalgia speaking, but it is the memory I compete with every time I try another fruitcake. My dad is the one who shares my love of fruitcake, and my mom always tries to order the best one available for him.