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“Making fruitcake, angel?”
“It’s not a fruitcake, Crowley. It’s a stollen.”
“Oh yeah? What’s in it then?”
“Well, flour, sugar, spices, dried fruits, marzipan, candied citrus pe…” Aziraphale trailed off as Crowley's eyebrow raised.
“You’re saying that’s not a fruitcake?”
“Well, it’s not as dense as fruitcake, it’s more bread than cake.”
Crowley raised his eyebrow.
“And at the end, you poke many tiny holes and brush it with butter. You wouldn’t do that to a cake.”
“Alright, I’ll let you have this one. ‘Course you know what that means ..." Crowley smirked at Aziraphale's concerned look. "Ketchup is a smoothie.”