After three weeks of stirring, turning, and adding fruits, nuts and any other type of sweet, tasty things, the Christmas cake starter was finally ready to be made into delicious Christmas cakes. My wife told me she could tell it was ready because it was foaming on its surface. An image from Macbeth flashed before my eyes. I thought it best to keep that image to myself.

My wife, being the organized person she is, placed the directions on the counter. She then pulled out all the ingredients. As I passed her in the kitchen, she told me that this looked like a rather easy task, and that she should be completed in about an hour. I retreated to my office to do some writing; A culinary artist needs some time and space to create.

A few minutes later, she asked me to come down and help her mix the fruits and the nuts into the batter. I joined her in our kitchen, grabbed the large wooden spoon, and attempted to stir the mixture. I now know the purpose of a cement mixer.

This Christmas cake concoction had the consistency of salt marsh muck. With all my might I attempted to move the spoon through this thick gook that made cold caramel seem runny.

After a few minutes, I gave up and asked my wife to hold the bowl while I tried to move the spoon with both my hands. With one mighty pull, I broke the spoon in half.

I then handed the stick to my wife and told her that lumps were a good thing. She asked me to leave. I did what I was told to do.

For the next hour and a half, I heard a lot of banging of ceramics and a whole bunch of mumbling. Then there was a bit of silence until I started to smell something that made me think of a forest fire in Hawaii. Burning pineapples and cherries. I heard my wife screaming at the oven. Then I heard the oven door open.

“Oh my God!” I heard my wife exclaim. Being a chemistry teacher, there are certain expressions I don’t like hearing.

All I could do was stare into the oven and state, “It smells good.” This turned out to be something my wife did not want to hear.

She then looked at me and stated, “Look what you made me do.”

What I made her do? I don’t remember ever having asked my wife to make a Christmas cake. She then went on to explain that since I was so enthralled with the idea of the history of Christmas cakes, she thought I wanted to have her make a bunch of them. I then told her that I am also interested in the history of World War II but that doesn’t mean she should start a war. My comment, of course, did just that.

After a daylong battle with the now infamous mix, however, the cakes turned out to be truly remarkable. They were light and extremely tasty. After I ate my second one loaded with butter, I told my wife that she should make the cakes a Christmas tradition. She told me to go to my study. I did.