For a start: why does it look so beautiful? The glazed cherry simply drips with lusciousness. It’s plump and red and glossy and looks mouthwatering.
But when you search the Oxford dictionary for the definition of trickster there are no words, just a little picture of a solitary glazed cherry giving a very tiny finger.
THE GLAZED CHERRY IS NOT WHAT IT SEEMS.
It’s a villain in a pretty red dress.
It’s a short man sitting on a stool about to go to the bar to get a drink for a very tall woman.
It’s a chemical in fruit’s clothing.
It is one of the worst tasting foods in the whole world (and we are including that salmon pattie my brother tried to reheat in the summer of 1998).
Now it's Christmas time, the glazed cherry is back. Sure, it's great mate the maraschino cherry might have popped up now and again, bobbing around a Manhattan cocktail or lying across an old fashioned banana sundae like a 70s porn star, but the glazed cherry is better at hiding. Perhaps because it is stalk free. Perhaps because the latest round of IQ testing had it 40 points up on the maraschino.
Whatever the reason, avoiding the glazed cherry is not easy this time of year.
When Aunty Cheryl gives you her special Christmas fruitcake, you can't pop the little glazed buggers out from beside the drunk sultanas with your finger and leave them on your plate. When your Dad cooks his special Christmas plum pudding that was handed down to him through the generations you can't gag on the glazed cherries.
You have to be an adult. YOU HAVE TO EAT THEM.
The perfect Christmas present. Post continues below.
And what is 'them'?
Well, here is a potted history of the little cherry that looks so full of promise.
The glazed cherry is a relative of the maraschino cherry. The maraschino cherry (it has a stalk) first started its tricky little life as a marasca cherry on the coast of Dalmatia (now Croatia) around the 1850s (I think we are still eating some from that same batch).
Then the French grabbed onto it, and because they had French accents the world thought, "Oh, isn't this little red blob the height of sophistication. Pass me a cerise glacee. Make it four."