By Rachel Sauer
The Daily Sentinel
Science time! Today’s fun: density (mass divided by volume).
In matters of tremendous density, there are stellar-mass black holes, there’s the core of the sun, there’s osmium and iridium, there’s fruitcake.
One prevailing theory holds that fruitcake’s density is key to its indestructibility — that it is the cockroach of baked goods because a combination of candied fruit, booze and possibly the dark arts makes it impenetrable to everything, up to and including an H bomb.
Today is for pumpkin pie, but this holiday season is for fruitcake. In preparation, and in a wholesome spirit of inquiry, we follow the scientific method to determine just what, exactly, a fruitcake can survive. The scientific steps:
1. Ask a question.
2. Do background research.
3. Construct a hypothesis.
4. Test the hypothesis by doing an experiment.
5. Analyze the data and draw a conclusion.
6. Communicate the results.
Thus, onward to science!
Question: Is fruitcake indestructible?
Background research: This may not contribute anything, scientifically speaking, but in the 1956 Truman Capote short story “A Christmas Memory,” a 60-something woman and her 7-year-old cousin begin gathering supplies for a four-day extravaganza of fruitcake making. The bootlegger from whom they buy a quart of liquor tells them, “That’s no way to waste good whiskey.”
So, anyway.
The ancient Romans made a cake-ish sort of treat from pomegranate seeds, nuts, barley and raisins, which might be considered the genesis of fruitcake, but the confection really came into its own during the Middle Ages, when dried fruit became readily available. And through the centuries, it was a cherished, special treat.
Historians speculate, according to Smithsonian magazine, that fruitcake fell out of favor in the mid-20th century, when mass-produced, mail-order fruitcakes became available, perpetuating a reputation for brick-like punishments filled with weirdly vivid “fruit” and reeking of cheap wine.
But was that the beginning of their hypothetical indestructibility?
Hypothesis: Fruitcake is impervious to various extreme stimuli, retaining its shape, structure and “edibility.”
Experiment No. 1: Drop the fruitcake from a great height.
Using a The Bakery brand fruit cake ring (best if used by March 11, 2015) bought at Walmart, the scientific decision was made to leave it in its thin, red paper wrapper, which was reminiscent of a muffin cup. Even with the paper on, the cake was sticky to a degree unexplainable by science.
The cake was dropped from a height of approximately 40 feet — the roof of The Daily Sentinel’s press building — and landed on a surface of asphalt. It bounced once and sustained several significant cracks to its internal structure, but maintained its original ring shape.
Analysis and conclusions: The fact that fruitcake bounces when dropped from a great height was an unexpected but breakthrough scientific discovery. And if the scientifically minded aren’t opposed to some dirt and a few grubby pebbles, it definitely was still “edible.”
Experiment No. 2: Drive over the fruitcake with a Mazda 3.
Forsaking scientific standardization — and in an attempt to avoid the ol’ managerial fish eye over an expense report that includes five $9.98 fruitcake rings — this experiment utilized a rectangular, one-pound Old Fashion Claxton Fruit Cake log bought at City Market (dimensions: 8 inches long, 2 inches wide, 1 3/4 inches high).
Placing it in the drive path of a Mazda 3 — curb weight: approximately 3,000 pounds — it was run over at a speed of 5 mph. The specific scientific term for the result is “squashed,” but not as much as might have been hypothesized. Its original width of two inches expanded to approximately six inches, and at its highest point it retained an elevation of approximately three-quarters of an inch.
Analysis and conclusions: Though it remained identifiable as fruitcake, it was no match for fuel-efficient Japanese engineering. Its “edibility” was compromised by all-season radials and the fact that it adhered to the asphalt on which it was placed with an epoxy-like tenacity.
Experiment No. 3: Use the fruitcake to quell a Mentos-and-Coke bomb.
A roll of mint Mentos dropped into a two-liter bottle of Coke creates an unstoppable volcanic explosion, so another Old Fashion Claxton Fruit Cake log was placed over the mouth of the Coke bottle to stem the eruption.
However, the experiment was compromised by clumsy butterfingers and the fact that a single Mento dropped into the bottle instantly ignites a spewing geyser of soda. Thus, even the most scientifically minded can’t overcome the speed of chemistry, and the fruitcake didn’t quite make it onto the mouth of the bottle before there was soda everywhere.
Analysis and conclusions: Future versions of this experiment must of necessity include a scientific helper, to either place the fruitcake on the mouth of the bottle with lightning speed or to be the one who gets all sticky when the soda starts gushing.
Experiment No. 4: Throw darts at the fruitcake.
Hanging a The Bakery brand Fruit Cake Ring from a scientifically dangerous nail protruding from a wooden fence, three darts were thrown at the fruitcake. The first three throws were unsuccessful due to scientific enthusiasm being unable to compensate for an inability to hit the broad side of a barn.
The second round of three throws pierced the fruitcake, which was scientifically regarded as “sad” hanging there on the fence and assaulted by darts.
Analysis and conclusions: Fruitcake should be kept out of pubs, since it is susceptible to darts and because it possesses a scientifically significant amount of booze already. Pre-experiment research revealed a fruitcake recipe that calls for the baked cake to be soaked in rum for 10 weeks.
Experiment No. 5: Pit the fruitcake against a series of hand tools and/or implements
Turning once again to a The Bakery brand Fruit Cake Ring, the confection was secured to a wooden picnic table with a six-inch screw clamp and variously assaulted with: a 15-inch shark-toothed hand saw, a cordless electric drill using a 5/16 bit and a combination of hammer and three-inch nails.
Hand saw: The fruitcake did not withstand the saw, and was rendered in half by two uniform sawing movements.
Cordless drill: The fruitcake did not forbear the drill, which pierced a hole through it in .6 seconds.
Hammer and nail: The nails easily pierced the fruitcake, requiring just one stroke of the hammer to slide all the way through the baked good and reach the picnic table beneath.
Analysis and conclusions: Fruitcake is no match for tools, especially if you clean them and take good care of them and put them away where they’re supposed to go, dang it. For future inquiry: Is fruitcake a match for fathers?
Hypothesis rendered null: Fruitcake is not indestructible. In fact, scientifically speaking, it might not even be deserving of the derision heaped upon it.
So, spare a little love — and science! — for the humble, destructible fruitcake this holiday season.
(Note: A donation was made to Grand Valley Catholic Outreach to compensate for the fruitcakes sacrificed to science.)