Fruitcaky

[…] smoke from the fruitcaky denizens?

In character they are loose-knit, somewhat warmer and sweeter than in the Médoc, with a spicy, fruitcaky flavour which derives from the predominant Merlot grape.

Lovely tarry fruitcaky wine from the South of France.

In the original Italian recipe, candied lemon zest is used, but I find this a bit fruitcaky for modern tastes.

He sat cross-legged down-highway from the driver, mouthing a semi-intelligible sing-song, for sadly the poor devil had been knocked fruitcaky, perhaps permanently.

This great sadness, what a treat it is to feel like this . . . what a kind of honour. Grief isn’t a curse, it's a blessing. To be so connected that you feel true loss – what is there to commiserate about that? Why should you want to make anyone ‘feel better’ when they’re unhappy in this way? This grief is only another side of loving, one part of what it is to be human. I can’t help being angry with people who try to claim sympathy when they are feeling bereaved. This deep fruitcaky, purple pain is a sort of joy, such a luxury.