Anna Sultana's Panettone and Gingerbread / Oh, Christmas Tree! by Margaret Ullrich

Panettone

It’s been said that man does not live by bread alone.
Well, sure, a bit of butter - or a dollop of whipped cream for the gingerbread - is always appreciated.

Speaking of bread, it seems every country has a Christmas bread.

There's a legend about Italy’s Christmas bread, Panettone.  
It was created in Milan by a young nobleman named Antonio, who was in love with a baker's daughter.  
He went to work for the baker, whose business was failing. 
Antonio added butter, sugar, candied fruit and eggs to the bread dough.  
People loved the new creation: Pane di Toni or Tony's bread.

Years ago I posted Aunt Betty's recipe for Panettone.
It’s a little bit different from Ma’s recipe.
Why not make both?


Hints:

About the Panettone…
When kneading do not add too much flour.

The dough can be baked in three 1-pound coffee cans, then baked at 400º F for 45 minutes.


About the Gingerbread…
Not all molasses are the same. Those labelled Cooking or Blackstrap are harsh in flavour compared to Fancy molasses.

The batter can also be poured into a greased 9 x 13 inch baking pan, then baked at 325º F for 50 to 60 minutes.

If you’d like to remove the cake from the pan(s) after baking to serve on a platter, line the pan(s) with parchment paper.

If you don’t have dark brown sugar you can use use more light brown sugar in the Caramel Sauce.

The sauce will solidify when chilled, but will liquify again once reheated in the microwave or a small saucepan.




                                                               Panettone

Grease a deep round pan (a 2 1/2 quart pot would be fine)

Heat  to scalding
1/2 Cup milk
Let it stand until it is lukewarm.

Place in a small mixer bowl
1/2 Cup butter or margarine, softened
1/4 Cup sugar
1 teaspoon salt
Beat until creamy.

Pour into a warmed mixing bowl
1/4 Cup warm water
Add
1 Tablespoon yeast
Stir until the yeast is dissolved.
Let sit 10 minutes.
Add the warm milk and the sugar / butter mixture and stir well.

Add
2 large eggs, beaten
2 Cups flour
Beat until smooth.

Blend in
1/4 Cup seedless raisins
1/2 Cup mixed candied fruits
1/4 Cup toasted almonds, chopped
1 Tablespoon lemon extract
Add enough flour to make a soft dough, about 2 cups.

Turn the dough out on a lightly floured surface.
Knead until dough is smooth and elastic.

Put in an oiled bowl, turning the dough to coat it with oil.
Cover with a damp towel and let stand in a warm place away from drafts about 1 1/2 hours, until doubled in bulk.

Punch down the dough and turn out on a board.
Cover with bowl and let rest 10 minutes.
Shape dough in a round loaf and place it in the greased pan.
Cover and let rise in a warm place until doubled, about 1 hour.
Cut an "X" in the top.

Preheat oven to 375º F

Combine
1 egg yolk
1 Tablespoon cold water
Brush egg mixture over the loaf.
Bake 1 hour or until brown.


                                                               Gingerbread

Grease 2 8 inch square pans

Sift together into a medium bowl
2 1/2 Cups all purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon ground ginger
Set aside.

Heat to boiling
1 Cup water
Set aside.

Place in a large mixer bowl
1/2 Cup butter or margarine or 3 ounces oil
1 Cup brown sugar, packed (either light or dark or a mixture of both)
Cream together, about 2 minutes.

Add
1 Cup Fancy molasses
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
Scraping down the sides and bottom of the bowl, blend until well combined.

Place in a medium bowl
the boiling water
Stir in
1 teaspoon baking soda
Add to the molasses mixture.
Stir well to combine.
Add
the dry flour mixture
Stir until well blended.
Add
2 large eggs, well beaten
Mix well.

Preheat oven to 325º F

Pour batter into the prepared pans.
Bake 35 to 45 minutes, until a tester inserted in the centre comes out clean.

Serve warm or cold with lightly sweetened whipped cream.

It also goes nicely with

Caramel Sauce

Place in a medium saucepan
1/2 Cup butter
1/2 Cup light brown sugar, packed
3 Tablespoon dark brown sugar, packed
2/3 Cup heavy whipping cream
1/4 teaspoon salt

Cooking over medium heat, stir until the butter melts and the mixture comes to a boil.
Boil for 4 minutes, or until the sauce coats the back of a spoon.
Use immediately or remove to a bowl, cover, and refrigerate until needed.

                                                            ~~~

For another broadcast of our CKUW radio program ‘2000 & Counting’ we planned to reminisce about when we had gone out into the woods to chop down a Christmas tree.
Yes, this was, and is, a popular Winnipeg Christmas tradition.
And, yes, in Manitoba it can get cold enough to make trees brittle!


God, it was cold.

I didn't know it could get that cold.
I didn't know I'd ever be stupid enough to be outdoors in that kind of cold.
I didn't know I'd been stupid enough to marry someone stupid enough to work with people stupid enough to be out in that kind of cold.

It was December in Winnipeg.

Paul and I had grown up in New York City. There people went to an empty parking lot where the trees had magically appeared, like the pre-wrapped ground beef at the local supermarket. No questions asked. No one wanted to get too personal with an ornament that would be out with the trash in a matter of weeks.

At the New York parking lot we'd browse, find a tree we liked and switch the price tag with the cheaper tree which no one liked. Then we'd carry the tree to the clerk, who gave us the fish eye as he noticed the fullness of such a "good find", sighed and took our money. The whole deal was done in ten minutes. Another Christmas had begun.

Apparently, that isn't good enough for Winnipeggers.
Oh, no, they have to get down and dirty with their holiday bushes.


I'll never forget how happy Paul was when he came home and told me we'd been invited to join his co-workers, a group of Winnipeggers, for a real, old-fashioned Christmas experience. If I'd had a clue I'd have realized that giving birth in a barn, unaided, would've been an easier old-fashioned Christmas experience.
We were going to chop down a real Christmas tree, just like our ancestors.

Well, my parents are from Malta, a sunny Mediterranean island. It just wasn't in my genes to know how to dress for a freezing, miserable, forced march through a blizzard-hit forest. The windchill - which I still didn't understand - was in the exposed skin can freeze in 2 minutes range.

That didn't sound good, so I said, Thanks, but no thanks.

Somehow Paul convinced me that his entire future career prospects, our unborn children's college fund, our grandchildren's lives and our golden years' security and comfort would all go up in smoke if I didn't join in the mighty tree hunt.

His Jewish co-workers were going. Everybody, even that ditzy receptionist who always dressed like a showgirl wannabe with skirts up to there, was going.

So, we were going.

God, it was cold.

I thought I had dressed warmly.
That fink, the ditzy receptionist, showed up looking like the Michelin Man. She was ready to march to the North Pole for the perfect tree, if necessary. So were the three other women co-workers. The other wives - who all knew better - had begged off. One was even pregnant. Or so she said.

I was alone with four career women who were full of the 1970s I am woman, hear me roar career fever. While they talked shop I felt as welcome as a lump of coal in a kid’s Christmas stocking.

The Jewish co-workers - who I had hoped would keep the tree hunt frenzy within limits - had turned into lumberjacks. They were also ready to march to the North Pole for the perfect tree, if necessary.

After walking five minutes I couldn't feel my toes. We hadn't even gotten out of the parking lot. I was doomed.

I didn't know it could get that cold.
We marched. Finally, someone approved of a tree. The men chopped. The tree crashed. The branches that hit the ground broke off the tree.

I said, The bare side could be placed against a wall.

The heat from their glares should have restored my circulation. It didn't. We marched. Someone approved of another tree. The men chopped. The tree crashed. It broke.


God, it was cold.

We were doomed to spend all day wandering like Flying Dutchmen on a quest to find the perfect unbreakable tree. The lot was littered with other broken felled trees. Some trees had landed across their comrades in a criss-cross pattern that looked like a cradle.
A cradle, something soft, something to receive and hold...

Hold it… something to catch a damn tree!

Dripping snot and tears had frozen my mouth shut. If I'd had the equipment I would've written my idea in the snow. I slapped my face trying to restore circulation to my lower jaw. Finally my lips parted. I clutched Paul's arm.

Cradle... tree... cradle, I mumbled and criss-crossed my arms.

The women thought I was pregnant and wanted a homemade cradle. Thank God, months of marriage, misery and love had united Paul's mind to mine. Months of marriage had also taught us that Paul was no carpenter. He knew the homemade cradle idea was bunk. Paul caught on to my pantomime and told the others of my plan.

Someone approved of another tree. It could land on four broken trees. The men chopped. The tree landed on its fallen comrades. It survived.
We marched. Someone approved of another tree. It, too, survived.

Christmas was saved.

God, it was cold.

I didn't know it could get that cold.
I couldn't believe it.

Some fool was planning the next year's tree chopping expedition.