Cuppa Cuppa Cuppa Cake

Thanks to this tweet, I tried out Truvy’s recipe.

The recipe is simple enough – one cup each of flour, sugar, and fruit cocktail… syrup and all. I don’t know about you, but that sounded sweet. Too sweet. Stomach ache inducing sweet. But I soldiered on, curious how it would turn out.

Baked in the oven at 350 degrees until it started to turn golden brown and pull away from the sides of the pan. It looked dense. Moist. Perhaps too moist, it started to crack when I tried taking it out of the baking pan. I wrapped it up in some cling and brought it over to Albany Jane’s house for an impromptu get together.

I don’t know what everyone else thought, but I did not like this. It was just… weird. I don’t even know how to describe it other than that. Too sweet. The fruitcake that was… and wasn’t? I started to feel bad that I made the cake and subjected everyone to eating it. I brought it back home where it was banished to the back of the refrigerator.

So there you have it, Alec Mapa. Don’t make this cake. Don’t eat this cake. It is a big fail waiting to happen.