COMMENTARY
Not all holiday goodies are treats

By Greg Morago
Hartford (Conn.) Courant

The fruitcake (it's been called the Rodney Dangerfield of holiday treats — it gets no respect) is one of several foods we see during the season. Advertiser library photo

At a time when everything should be gussied up and jaw-droppingly special, we continue to encounter the same tired holiday "treats" at nearly every party we attend from now through New Year's. Oh, don't tell us you actually look forward to toasted pita chips with store-bought hummus. We're not fooled by your mock delight at our Rice Krispies squares shot through with festive Red Hots.

Why is it that we continue to see certain questionable foods during the holidays. Tradition? Surely little hot dogs on toothpicks have a higher calling. It's not like we can't eat cheese straws at home. Can't you put that Yard o' Beef to better use?

Here's a lineup of 10 holiday appetizers, side dishes, snacks and treats that some of us love but a lot of us love to hate:

Chex Mix: More salt than the Dead Sea. At first it tastes yummy, but after a few handfuls, your swollen tongue begins to react to the sodium overload (kind of like your tongue after eating one of those giant Sweet Tarts). Added trouble comes when Chex enthusiasts try to get all fancy with the mix by adding M&Ms, raisins, Cheetos, Reese's Pieces, etc. This is, as they say, overkill.

Port wine cheese ball: One time at band camp ... Did your high school band ever have to sell crocks of cheese or cheese balls to make money to be in a big parade? Ours did, and that cheese we forced our parents and relatives to buy came back to haunt us during the holidays. Why is an orb of scary orange and pink paste rolled in inferior nuts something special? Can't we just eat nice brie on a Triscuit?

Pumpernickel bowl with dip: Run, don't walk, from this tired, tired hostess presentation. Spinach dip (made with dried vegetable soup mix) plopped inside a big brain of dead bread isn't clever. It doesn't even taste that good.

Mincemeat: Did you catch that episode of "Desperate Housewives" where the snoopy neighbor made the Teri Hatcher character eat a mincemeat pie? We couldn't tell what Hatcher was more afraid of: the thought of being pinched for her neighbor's fire or having to eat a hideous pie of sweet, brown gruel. We're thinking it's the mincemeat.

Yam casserole: Maybe because the yam is such a homely tuber, cooks feel the need to pretty it up. But the yam casserole is like what the stylists on "The Swan" would do to the poor spud. Turn it into the streetwalker of the holiday buffet, sickly sweet with brown sugar, oiled up with butter and wearing a pretentious cape of miniature marshmallows. No thanks, we'll pass (again).

Fruitcake: It has been called the Rodney Dangerfield of holiday treats; the fruitcake gets no respect. But let's ask ourselves: Should it? Sure, it's heavy with top-shelf ingredients. Yes, it's traditional. We know Aunt Gloria loves to send it every year. But who is really eating this brick? Raise your hands if you ever cried out, "I could really use a nice hunk of fruitcake tonight!"

Clam dip: Do holiday hostesses set out clam dip in a deliberate attempt to have their guests rushing to the toilet? The combination of lots of booze (liquor, wine, champagne) mixed with clam dip (made from minced bits of what we're told are clams but more resemble scrap rubber) is a recipe for disaster. Step away from the clam dip!

Hickory Farms Beef Stick Summer Sausage: There are generous souls who grace us each year with a familiar basket of cheeses and sausages. If the Hickory Farms assortment is so popular, why then are people so in a hurry to unload their summer sausages in the dead of winter? Maybe because they taste fake-smoky? Maybe because they leave this thick, oily slick on our tongue? Yeah, that's very delicious and extremely appealing.

Veggie tray: It may seem like a thoughtful concession to the vegetarians in our midst, but the veggie platter often smacks of a cheap bone thrown to all party guests. Just what is so appealing about wet sticks of celery, hard broccoli florets, raw nubbins of cauliflower and baby carrots that are webbed with some kind of white mold? We're supposed to be happy about this chilly fiber and a wishing well of runny ranch dip?

Thumbprint cookies: There are many boring cookies in the annual swap, but by far the biggest snoozers are the shortbread cookies that someone has smashed their thumbs into, creating a well filled with sticky jam.