St. Lucia Buns / The First Maltese Lucia Queen by Margaret Ullrich

 

December is just zipping along.
Now we’re getting ready for the feast of Saint Lucia, a fourth-century Italian martyr.
The name Lucia comes from the Latin lux, meaning light, so she became associated with winter solstice festivals and celebrations of light.
It’s a very popular holiday in Sweden and, even if you’re not Swedish, a perfect time to do a bit of celebrating.
Of course it has its own traditions, as mentioned in the story below.

The S-shaped St. Lucia Buns, lussekatter, are sweet rolls traditionally made with saffron.
Well, there are traditions, and then there are traditions.

Saffron has a mildly sweet and grassy flavour, and gives a golden colour to paella, risotto, bouillabaisse, tagines, and Scandinavian breads.
Saffron is not often used in recipes, and you shouldn’t be surprised if your local grocer doesn’t have it.
Saffron costs about $4,000 per pound.
You, and your local grocer, have much better ways of spending $4,000.


In place  of saffron many cooks have substituted safflower, annatto, turmeric and cardamom.
Safflower is called Mexican saffron and gives a similar colour and flavor.
It can be substituted for saffron on a one-to-one basis.

Annatto seeds give a colour which is similar to saffron.
They have a nutty taste which many prefer in some Puerto Rican dishes.

Turmeric, a member of the ginger family, is the most widely used saffron substitute.
Turmeric and saffron have been used in Indian and Middle Eastern recipes as well as for medicinal purposes in some cultures.
Smaller amounts of turmeric should be used in place of saffron.

There’s also a blend which some use as a saffron substitute:
1/2 Tablespoon lemon juice
1/4 Tablespoon cumin
1/4 Tablespoon of chicken stock powder
1 teaspoon turmeric

The St. Lucia buns recipe had 1/2 gram saffron threads, crushed.
That’s 1/8 teaspoon saffron threads.
I used 1/8 teaspoon cardamom.
i didn't get any complaints.
It’s your money. Suit yourself.


Back to Santa Lucia… here are some other traditional recipes:

Cardamom / Sugar & Spice Christmas Blend

Swedish Cardamom Wreath for Saint Lucia Day

Anna Sultana's Santa Lucia Cookies

Anna Sultana's Cinnamon Buns

Anna Sultana’s Almond Cookies

Anna Sultana’s Rice Pudding and Bread and Custard Pudding

Hints:

Don't coil the dough too tightly when making the "S" shapes.
The dough will continue to rise so it needs room to expand.

If you can find it, you could sprinkle the buns with with pearl sugar.
You can also use multi-colour sprinkles. Or not.


                                                               St. Lucia Buns

Makes 36 buns
Lightly grease 3 baking sheets

Have on hand
raisins (you’ll need 2 per bun)

Scald and cool to lukewarm
2 Cups milk

Place in a small bowl
1/4 Cup warm water
1 Tablespoon yeast
Stir and let rest 10 minutes.

Place in another small bowl
1/4 Cup of the cooled milk
1 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon cardamom 

Place in a third small bowl
2 eggs
2/3 Cup sugar
Beat together.

Melt
1/4 Cup butter

Place in a large mixing bowl
the rested yeast mixture, the spiced milk, and the egg/sugar mixture
the remaining 1 3/4 Cups of the cooled milk
Beat on slow to combine the mixtures with the milk.

Slowly beat in
4 Cups flour
1 teaspoon cardamom
Beat on low speed until the batter is smooth and elastic.
Stir in
the melted butter
Add
3 1/2 to 4 Cups flour, enough to form a stiff dough
Turn out onto a floured board and knead until smooth.
Place the dough in a lightly greased bowl, turning to grease the top.
Cover and let rise until doubled, about 1 1/2 hours.
Punch down, cover, and let rise again until doubled, about 1 hour.

Lightly grease 2 - 3 baking sheets.

Divide the dough into four portions.
Roll one portion into a 9 x 6 inch rectangle and cut into 9 1 inch x 6 inch strips.
Working with one strip at a time, roll the strip between your palms to create a 6 inch long rope.
Coil the ends of each rope in opposite directions so that it forms an "S" shaped bun.
Place the 9 buns on a prepared baking sheet.

Repeat with the remaining three portions of dough.

Place a raisin in the centre of each curl, two per bun.
Lightly beat 1 egg and brush each bun with the beaten egg.
Allow to rise for 20 minutes. 

Preheat oven  375º F

Bake 20 to 25 minutes, until golden.
Serve with coffee.

                                                            ~~~

Along with being a co-host for the CKUW radio show ‘2000 & Counting’ from 1999 to 2007, I wrote stories and essays, which I then read live on air.
Back in 2000 I wrote this for our show. 
No, I don’t do any of these seasonal feast celebrations anymore.
At my age I have to conserve my energy for Christmas!

My parents and I immigrated to New York in 1950. A few years later, when I was in school, I asked why we didn't have anything pretty to eat for Christmas. My Ma told me that in Malta, Christmas was a religious celebration. The focus was on God becoming man, not on cookies.

Maltese desserts are simple - fresh fruit and cheese with an occasional cookie. One Maltese cookie, the biskuttini tar rahal, could be described as hardened library paste with a hint of lemon and a dash of royal icing. A variation on the biskuttini cuts the sugar by half and replaces the royal icing with a sprinkling of sesame seeds.  
Both cookies are wonderful teething rings.  

Another favourite is the anise biscotti. The big thrill with a biscotti is seeing how much milk it can suck up before breaking in half and falling into your glass. 
It's like eating the sinking Titanic.  
For the holidays, we borrow from the Sicilians and make kannoli tar-rikotta (ricotta in a fried pastry tube) or a qassata (vanilla custard shmeared over a sponge cake).  
How lame is that?  


I knew my German classmates ended their meals with more oomph. Our parish, St. Fidelis, was a cookie heaven. The most amazing homemade cookies were brought to every church and school function by my friends' Moms. They were rich and gorgeous - the cookies, I mean. They were loaded with spices, fruits, nuts and jams, and were covered with thick layers of frosting and all sorts of sprinkles.  

When my Ma saw the competition she admitted defeat and took over the job of bringing coffee. I was free to eat whatever caught my eye. While I gushed, my friends' Moms all beamed. My friends thought I was nuttier than the cookies.  


My husband is a third generation American - half Swedish and half German. Okay, I was marrying into the Cookie Big Leagues. I thought, along with the change of name, I'd return from my honeymoon a changed woman able to make cookies with a capital ‘C’. To paraphrase the biblical story of Ruth, I believed, What thou eatest, I will eat... thy cookies shall be my cookies...

Well, you get the picture.  Thanks to the movie The Sound of Music, I just knew we'd celebrate Christmas a la von Trapp: sitting beneath a huge, glowing tree,
singing Edelweiss and munching beautiful cookies, my favorite things. Ethnic things.
The ethnic bit nearly ended my marriage.

There's an old German saying: That which really tastes oft us trouble makes.
Now, there's truth in advertising. Clear as a bell, they were warning me to not even go there. If I'd had half a brain I'd have just thrown in the mixing bowl and placed a huge order at the local German bakery for a deluxe assorted cookie platter, with some stollen on the side.

Nope, I didn't take the hint. I studied every German and Swedish cookbook I could find. The biggest surprise was that there were other days that had to be celebrated. Okay, I thought, practice makes perfect. Maybe it's like opening a Broadway show in Boston. I learned about their holiday customs.  

The first Advent biggie was December 6. St. Nicholas' Day. That called for small presents in Paul's shoes and some hot chocolate and buns for breakfast. No problem. The morning went without a hitch.  
Huzzah!! One day I'd bake cookies that looked like jewels!  


I spent more nights baking instead of sleeping. My next goal was an authentic Swedish Saint Lucia Day for our first December 13.
Maybe the lack of sleep was affecting my mind.  

According to one big fat book, a good Swedish wife got up at four a.m. to start tossing her cookies. God forbid any sunlight should shine on the dough or disaster would befall the household. Every hefty housefrau hoped a crescent moon was hovering on the horizon to bring good luck to the baking.  

No kidding. Without that sliver of light she could get killed, stumbling around in the dark like that. I really thought that if I followed the customs, my baking would get better. I got up at four a.m. and baked. Okay, I cheated. I used electric lights.  

Then I ran into a slight problem. According to tradition, saffron buns and coffee were served between three and four a.m. by the eldest daughter, who was dressed as the Lucia Queen. We didn't have children and I couldn't borrow a neighbour's kid for that ungodly hour. I had to make some changes in the sacred customs. I, as an eldest daughter, became the first Maltese Lucia Queen. Ever.

I stitched up a long white robe and tied shining red balls to our Advent wreath. I memorized the traditional poem. Then, when I saw how much saffron cost, I made another teeny change. I made cinnamon buns. What harm could it do?


The days flew. Finally, it was December 13, 3:45 a.m. Show Time!
I was clad in white, balancing an advent wreath with bouncing red balls and gleaming white candles upon my head. I was a glowing, flaming cherries jubilee, clutching a tray laden with coffee and cinnamon buns and walking ever so slowly to our bed.  

Hovering over Paul, I chanted: Night goes with silent steps...
Hmmph... No answer. He was snoring. No Swedish genes were making him wake up to behold his Lucia Queen.  
Well, after all that work, this Lucia Queen required an audience.
Creating my own liturgy, I ad libbed. Wake up, Paul.
Still no answer.
I set the tray down, gave him a push and repeated, Night goes with silent steps... Damn it, wake up.
He snorted, turned and faced me. It took him a while to focus.
Okay, finally, I, the Lucia Queen, was getting the respect I deserved.  

I went back to chanting, my voice building to an impressive boom.
Night goes with silent steps round house and cottage.
O'er earth that sun forgot, Dark shadows linger.      
Then on our threshold stands white clad in candlelight,
Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia!!

He looked. He blinked. He screamed.
He said something that no one should ever say to a Lucia Queen.

I blamed the cinnamon. Maybe the Swedish mojo just doesn't work with cinnamon.
Look, if my Ma can blame religion, I can blame spices.