Level 1 – Fruitcake
The stuff of nightmares. Chunks of fruit embedded into cake? No. The texture issues alone require a detailed PowerPoint presentation outlining the many ways that this is not a real food item.
Level 2 – Eggnog
Every year, I encounter this somewhere and think, “Oh. Let’s try it again. It’s probably not as bad as I remember.” And every year I have the satisfaction of realizing, “Oh. It is as bad as I remember. Possibly even worse. Will the hostess notice if I use this spoon to scrape my tongue and then induce vomiting?”
Level 3 – Christmas sugar cookies
I’m not a huge fan of sugar cookies. My cookie preferences are pretty slim, to be honest. I’ll have chocolate chip cookies, those Hershey Kiss cookies, and that’s about it. Other Christmas cookies I’ll tolerate include chocolate-covered pretzels with M&Ms pressed into them or chocolate-covered Ritz peanut butter crackers (and yes, I realize that neither of those are technically cookies). Cookies that make me dry heave: cookies covered with thick, sugary frosting, cookies with nuts and cookies covered in coconut. Especially coconut.
Level 4 – Candy canes
I’m not really a peppermint type of gal, unless you’re counting York Peppermint Patties, which are a completely different story. Every time I see one of those commercials, I crave a York Peppermint Patty so bad, and yet I think I have purchased maybe three of them in the last 15 years.
Level 5 – Gingerbread cookies
Now we’re finally getting somewhere. Love gingerbread cookies – love them. Love the smell, love the taste, love biting the head off the gingerbread dude.
Level 6 – Oreo truffles
Jason’s mom made these for the first time last year, and I almost needed an intervention, so great was my addiction. At Thanksgiving, she gave us a baggie with eight of them, which I carefully counted out as though they were gold coins and told Jason, “We get four each – no cheating.” The unspoken implication being, “Or I will hunt you down.”
Jason told me it didn’t think it was a good idea to make a batch myself, even though I half-heartedly insisted it would be “for the people at work.” [Ed. note: And if they can’t find them hidden in my filing cabinet, then TOO BAD for them.]
It’s probably a good thing I didn’t make any though, because I can’t stop eating them. They’re like little almond bark-covered Oreo cakes (and nothing like those awful Oreo Cakesters, which was a cruel joke played on the world by Nabisco). So by not making Oreo Truffles, I’m saving my husband from having to witness me acting like this:
What’s your holiday treat hierarchy?