Rum balls aren’t even baked. My dad used to plow the driveway of an elderly neighbor, and every Christmas time she would treat us with a batch. They would make my eyes water, holding the container in my lap on the ride home!:eek:
Rum balls aren’t even baked. My dad used to plow the driveway of an elderly neighbor, and every Christmas time she would treat us with a batch. They would make my eyes water, holding the container in my lap on the ride home!:eek: