Showing posts with label Easter traditions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Easter traditions. Show all posts

Saturday, February 28, 2026

Anna Sultana’s Centrepiece Easter Bread / Anise Seed Easter Bread / No-Rise Easter Bread / Small Easter Nests l A Traditional Family Easter by Margaret Ullrich

Oh, my! February is almost over!
It seems the older I get, the faster the time goes.
I mean… wasn’t Christmas just last week?

Okay, it’s time to get serious about time.
This year Easter is on April fifth.
That’s five weeks… 35 days… 840 hours… 50,400 minutes from now.
You get the picture.
If you’re over 75, like me, it means that in two weeks, oh lucky us, we have to be ready for another holiday.
At least that’s how it will seem.

Let’s take this ‘holiday’ in small steps.
What’s the bare minimum we can get away with without getting major complaints?

I’m not going to get into the Spring Cleaning to do lists.
Nobody notices that, anyway.
But the dinner is a whole other story.

Family holiday dinners change over the years.
Tradition gives way to schedule conflicts, problems in the supply chain, rising prices, dietary restrictions and changing appetites.
And don’t get me started on vegetarians.

Bread, in moderation, is usually a safe holiday item.
A dietary staple, reasonably priced and good as a leftover.
So, let’s start with the fancy Easter bread.

Back in the 1970s we were into baking - breads, buns, you name it.
Like we didn’t trust the local stores’ bakers or the big bread companies anymore.
The sourdough craze during Covid was a blast from the past.
Well, it kept us busy when we were stuck at home.

If the bread baking bug is out of your system, and you don’t want to buy yeast that’s just going to age in place, the No-Rise Easter Bread uses baking powder and isn't kneaded.
Your guests won’t know the difference.
It’ll be our secret.


Hints:


When using a recipe that calls for zest you could place the zest in a separate bowl and add some of the sugar called for in the recipe. Rub the zest into the sugar to release the oils, then continue to follow the recipe.

Check the ‘best before’ date of the yeast. If there's no foam it won’t do anything.

Twist each piece gently but firmly to give the wreaths that braid shape.
You could also divide each rope into two, then twist each pair of ropes together before forming a ring. Pinch the ends to seal.

The uncooked eggs will cook through and be safe to eat.
You could also sprinkle slivered almonds on top before baking.

The breads can be eaten as is, or lightly toasted and served with butter or jam.


About the Anise Seed Easter Bread…
You could also add 1 teaspoon lemon zest or 1/2 teaspoon almond extract.
Golden raisins, about a half cup, would also be a nice addition.

This loaf is open to suggestions when it comes to form.
You could make a wreath and decorate it with 6 dyed uncooked eggs.
Or you could go creative and make a dove, or a cross or even a mermaid.


About the No-Rise Easter Bread…
If the yeast didn’t foam this is perfect for a plan B.

You can also stir in the ‘3 dry and 2 liquid additions’ instead of using the mixer.


About the Sweet Easter Twists…
You could add 1/2 to 1 teaspoon cinnamon or 1 teaspoon orange zest to the dough.

For a holiday look, place a dyed raw egg in the centre of the wreath before the final rising.

 

                     Centrepiece Easter Bread

Makes 3 large or 6 small wreaths

Line 3 cookie sheets with parchment paper.

Have on hand 3 to 6 dyed uncooked eggs

Place in a small bowl
1/4 Cup warm water (about 110° F)
2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast
1 teaspoon sugar
                                                               Stir and let sit 5 to 10 minutes, until it foams.

Place in a large bowl
5 Tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
1/2 Cup whole milk, warmed
1/3 Cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 - 1 teaspoon anise extract (optional)
1/2 teaspoon salt
Blend together until well combined.
Beat in, one at a time
3 large eggs
Stir in the proofed yeast mixture.
Gradually add, 1 cup at a time
3 1/2 - 4 Cups flour
Stir until a soft dough forms.
Place dough on floured surface and knead for 8 to 10 minutes, until it is smooth and elastic.
Place dough in a greased bowl, cover, and let rise in a warm place 1 1/2 - 2 hours, until doubled.
Punch down dough and divide into 6 pieces.
Roll each piece into a rope.
Twist two ropes together and form into a braided circle, pinching ends to seal.
Place on parchment-lined baking sheet.
Insert dyed raw eggs on the surface of each wreath.
Cover and let rise in a warm place 30 to 45 minutes.

Preheat oven to 350° F

Place in a cup
1 large egg
Beat until well blended.

Brush loaves with beaten egg.
Sprinkle with
Sugar sprinkles (nonpareils)
Bake 20 to 25 minutes, until golden.
Let cool and serve.


                                                               Anise Seed Easter Bread

Makes 1 large loaf

Line 1 cookie sheet with parchment paper.

Place in a small bowl
1/4 Cup warm water (about 110°F)
1 Tablespoon sugar
2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast
Stir and let sit 5 to 10 minutes, until it foams.

Place in a large bowl
4 Cups flour
1/2 Cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 –  2 Tablespoons anise seeds (or fennel seeds)
Whisk together and make a well in the centre.
Add
the yeast mixture
1/2 Cup unsalted butter, melted
3 large eggs
3/4 Cup warm milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
Stir until a soft dough forms.
Place dough on floured surface and knead for 5 to 7 minutes, until it is smooth and elastic. Add more flour if needed.
Place dough in a greased bowl, cover, and let rise in a warm place 1 - 2 hours, until doubled.
Punch down dough. Shape into a braided loaf or your chosen Easter shape.
Place on parchment-lined baking sheet.
Cover and let rise in a warm place 30 to 45 minutes.

Preheat oven to 350° F

Place in a cup
1 large egg
Beat until well blended.

Brush loaves with beaten egg.
Sprinkle with
Sugar sprinkles (nonpareils)
Bake 25 to 30 minutes, until golden.
Let cool.

Glaze (optional)
Place in a small bowl
1 Cup confectioners sugar
1 – 2 Tablespoons milk
1 teaspoon lemon or orange extract
Stir to make a smooth glaze and drizzle over bread.


                     No-Rise Easter Bread

Makes 2 large braided rounds

Line 2 cookie sheets with parchment paper.

Peel zest from an orange, chop, and set aside.

Place in a large bowl
6 Cups flour
1 Tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
Whisk together and set aside.

Place in a stand mixer bowl
3/4 Cup shortening
1 1/2 Cups sugar
Beat together until light and fluffy.
Add, one at a time, beating after each addition
3 large eggs
2 egg yolks
Stir in
1 Cup ricotta cheese (or cottage cheese)
1 teaspoon orange extract
the orange zest

On low speed, making 3 dry and 2 liquid additions, add
the flour mixture
1/2 Cup milk
Blend until a soft dough forms.
Dust work surface lightly with flour.
Divide dough in half, then each half into 3 pieces.
Roll each piece into an 16 inch rope.
Braid 3 ropes together, then form into a wreath, tucking the ends under to secure.
Place on parchment lined baking sheet.
Repeat with remaining dough.

Preheat oven to 350° F

Bake 30 to 40 minutes, until golden.
Cool completely.

Place in a small bowl
1 1/2 Cups confectioners sugar
3 Tablespoons milk
1/2 teaspoon orange extract
Stir together to form a smooth glaze.
Drizzle glaze over cooled loaves.
Sprinkle with
Sugar sprinkles (nonpareils)

 

                     Small Easter Nests

Makes 6 small wreaths

Line 2 cookie sheets with parchment paper.

Have on hand 6 dyed uncooked eggs

Peel zest from an orange or lemon, chop, and set aside.


Place in a small bowl
1/4 Cup warm milk (about 110°F)
1 Tablespoon sugar
2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast
Stir and let sit 5 to 10 minutes, until it foams.

Place in a large bowl
2 1/2 – 3 Cups flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 Cup minus 1 Tablespoon sugar
Whisk together.
Add
2 Tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/4 teaspoon almond extract (optional)
the lemon or orange zest
1/4 Cup plain Greek yogurt or sour cream
Stir until a soft dough forms.
Place dough on floured surface and knead for 7 to 8 minutes, until it is smooth and elastic. Add more flour if needed.
Place dough in a greased bowl, cover, and let rise in a warm place 1 1/2 - 2 hours, until doubled.
Punch down dough and divide into 12 pieces.
Roll each piece into a 6 inch rope.
Twist two ropes together and form into a braided circle, pinching ends to seal.
Place on parchment-lined baking sheet.
Place a dyed raw egg in the centre of each wreath.
Cover and let rise in a warm place 30 to 45 minutes.

Preheat oven to 350° F

Place in a cup
1 large egg
Beat until well blended.

Brush loaves with beaten egg.
Sprinkle with
Sugar sprinkles (nonpareils)
Bake 20 to 25 minutes, until golden.
Let cool and serve.


                                                          ~~~

I had originally written the following story when I was one of the co-hosts of the CKUW radio show ‘2000 & Counting’.

In 2007 it was included in 'A/cross sections : new Manitoba writing', an anthology edited by Katharine Bitney and Andris Taskans, and published by the Manitoba Writers Guild. 
It is still in the Winnipeg library system, adult nonfiction section. Check it out. It has lots of stories and poems by many Manitoba writers. (In my profile picture, taken at McNally Robinson
Booksellers, it's in the left top corner.)

Why am I always writing about food?



                                        A Traditional Family Easter

    I made a loaf of soda bread to serve with the corned beef and cabbage on St. Patrick’s Day.  I don’t know why I did it.  I’m Maltese.  My husband is German/Swedish.  Not a single Irish person among our ancestors.  Then, on March nineteenth, I made a lasagna and cream puffs for St. Joseph.  I’d be twenty pounds lighter if I just ignored holidays.

    Yeah, right, like that’ll ever happen.     

    I’m a sucker for holiday traditions.  And, just like Christmas, Lent and Easter are loaded with holiday traditions.  Lent is the time to really clean the house.  Ah, spring cleaning.  Scrub and wax the floors, wash the windows and launder the curtains.  Everything from cellar to attic is glowing.  After being sealed in tighter than a drum all winter who could argue with giving the house a good cleaning?

    Lent is also a time to cut back on the calories.  Let’s be honest.  Who doesn’t want to drop the pounds gained during December?  Between the fasting and the exercise we get from cleaning house, we’re almost able to fit into the clothes we wore before Christmas.  Alleluia!!  Religion can be good for the body as well as the soul.  

    And then there’s Easter, when Christians celebrate Christ’s Resurrection.  We attend church in new outfits.  Little boys in little suits and little girls in fluffy dresses and shiny white patent leather shoes make families look like Hallmark cards.  

    Easter has more customs than the Bunny has eggs.  A popular tradition is to gather together and share a feast.  Over the centuries women have made this a glorious occasion with beautifully decorated eggs, colourful coffee cakes and traditional breads.


    According to tradition, an angel appeared to Mary to tell her that Jesus would arise on Easter.  To show her joy, Mary baked bread to share with her friends.  And to make the loaf more special, she put an egg, a symbol of life, on the top.  Now, I have to admit I don’t know what I’d do if someone told me that a recently deceased relative was rising from the dead.  I guess baking bread is as good a thing to do as any.  The only problem is that over the past two millennia something got lost in translation as that bread recipe went from country to country.

    And that’s when Easter went to hell in a bread basket.


    During my earliest years in Corona, a small town in Queens, New York, Easter was Italian. Palm Sunday was the Day of the Olive.   Small blessed olive branches were offered as tokens of peacemaking. For Easter breakfast we had Colomba di Pasqua. Colomba is bread shaped to look like a dove, the symbol of peace, and covered with almond paste and almonds. An Italian Easter dinner also had traditions. First we had manicotti. That was followed by a roasted whole baby lamb with a mixed salad, sauteed spinach and roasted artichokes. For dessert there were cream tarts, cookies, spumoni, nuts and roasted chestnuts. The adults had coffee.

    Then my parents moved to College Point, another small town in Queens, which had been settled by Irish and German families.  They had their own Easter customs.  Since Easter was not as commercial as Christmas, no one noticed when we followed our own customs.


    When I was seven I had to follow what Ma told me were the Church’s rules during Lent.  I ate kwarezimal, an almond cookie that was topped with honey and chopped pistachio nuts.  Ma said we could eat it during Lent because it didn’t have any fat or eggs.  For Maundy Thursday Ma baked bread in the form of a ring.  Its top was crusted with sesame seeds and pierced with roasted almonds.  Our Easter dinner menu was the same as it had been in Corona.  But, instead of making a Colomba di Pasqua, Ma baked a figolli, a Maltese sweet bread with a marzipan filling.  

    A figolli was harder to make than a colomba.  The dough was rolled about one centimeter thick.  Then Ma cut the dough into pairs of figolla with a figolla cutter.  They looked like a large letter J, but the stick part ended in a fish’s tail.  On one side of a figolla Ma spread jam and marzipan.  Then she covered it with the identical shape, as if she was making a sandwich.  After the figolli had been baked and cooled, they were covered with colored icing and piped royal icing.  Then a decorated Easter egg was placed on top of each figolli.  For the final touch a cardboard woman’s face was inserted into the mound of the J.  

    The odd thing about Ma’s traditional figolli was that it was a mermaid.  I asked Ma why a mermaid and not a dove.  She said, “I don’t know.  It’s our tradition.”  

    Well, you can’t argue with tradition.


    In College Point, as Easter approached, the bakeries filled with cross buns, pretzels, braided almond loaves, Easter cookies and marzipan treats.  There were also large decorated sugar Easter eggs which had a hole in one end.  When we looked into the hole we could see tiny bunny villages.  There were also hot cross buns.  Ma knew about the cross buns.  Since Malta was part of the British Empire, Ma had eaten them in Malta, too.      

    We brought samples of our mothers’ holiday baking to school.  There were lots of pretzels.  Since they didn’t have fat or eggs, we could eat them during Lent without risking eternal damnation.  I liked the braided loaves which had been covered with almond paste.  They reminded me of Colomba di Pasqua.  I brought some kwarezimal to school.  After I explained that the almond cookies didn’t have fat or eggs either, my friends agreed to try them.  


    Easter for my family was a simple celebration.  We went to church, wished everyone a “Happy Easter”, went home and ate our traditional foods.  There weren’t any problems until the year Ma’s brother Charlie married an American girl.  Aunt Liz wanted to learn more about Maltese customs.  Ma invited Charlie and Liz for Easter.  

    Pop told his oldest sister, Aunt Demi, that we had invited Charlie and Liz.  Aunt Demi was worried that our branch of the family was becoming too American.  So, Aunt Demi decided that she would come to dinner to make sure that Ma kept everything kosher.  

    Then Aunt Rita, one of my Sicilian Aunts, heard that we were inviting company for Easter.  Aunt Rita always took things personally.  She was insulted.  Why hadn’t she been invited, too?  Ma invited Aunt Rita, Uncle Tony and their children.  We had enough folding tables and chairs to seat everyone in the yard.  As long as it didn’t rain, Ma thought it would be a nice family dinner.

    Easter Sunday morning the sun was shining and the lamb was roasting on a spit in our yard.  The tables had been set.  Aunt Liz was taking notes and learning recipes.  She had brought a dozen cross buns and a jello mold.  The only thing missing was the centrepiece.  Aunt Demi had told Ma that she would bring a proper figolli.  

    It was the biggest figolli I’d ever seen.  The icing was as thick as my thumb.  While Aunt Demi was placing the Easter egg on her mermaid, Aunt Rita marched in and pulled a Colomba di Pasqua out of her tote bag.  The colomba had a three-foot wingspan.  There was barely room enough for one centrepiece.  

    Fish or fowl, which would Ma use?


    After forty days of fasting and scrubbing, Demi and Rita were lean, clean, Easter tradition machines.  Filled with the holiday spirit, they glared at each other.

    “What the hell is that?”  Aunt Demi spat.
    “It’s a dove, a symbol of peace, you idiot,” Aunt Rita shot back.  
    “It’s Easter.  We don’t need a damn dove.”
    “Throw that fish back in the sea.”  
    “The figolli is part of our tradition.”
    “Since when did Jesus swim with the fishes?”
    Waving a knife, Aunt Demi lunged.  “Give me that bread.  I’ll cut it up for sandwiches.”
    “Over my dead body.”
    “No problem.”

    My Aunt Liz was fascinated by her new in-laws.  She wrote down everything they said.  Maybe she thought the fight was part of our jolly ethnic holiday tradition.  I stayed close to Liz in case she didn’t have sense enough to duck.  

    Ma went back to the kitchen.  She knew she couldn’t reason with her sisters-in-law.  Her plan was to hide in the kitchen until the smoke cleared.  If they killed each other it would leave more food for the others.


    “Maria, get out here,” Aunt Demi yelled.  Ma came out.  The men and the younger children were nowhere in sight.  They were taking a walk to work up an appetite.  Demi and Rita were rolling up their sleeves.  Liz was taking notes.  
    “I went to all this trouble,” Aunt Rita whined.
    Aunt Demi barked, “Tell this idiot we are using the figolli.
    “It took me forever to make this,” Aunt Rita whined again.
    Ma tried to be a good hostess.  “They’re so big.  We could put them on chairs near the table.”

    No luck.  The Aunts wanted her to choose one.
   Aunt Demi announced, “We are having a traditional Maltese Easter dinner.  With a traditional figolli.”
    “Do you think our Blessed Mother baked a mermaid?” Aunt Rita sneered. 
    Demi lunged.  Liz wrote.  


    The lamb was ready.  If this dragged on much longer it would be a lump of coal. 

    Ma sighed, glared at her sisters-in-law and said, “I don’t care if our Blessed Mother made hot dogs and beans. I’m tired of cleaning. I’m tired of baking. I’m tired of the whole damn holiday.

    And I’m tired of bread. A few days ago I gave a figolli to a friend who lives down the street. Yesterday she came over and gave me a loaf of challah. So I have another traditional bread from Mrs. Cohen… Mrs. Cohen. That’s it!!”

    Without saying another word Ma turned and went back to the kitchen.  In a few minutes she returned with the glossy braided challah on the platter. 

    “Our Blessed Mother was a Jew.  She would’ve made a challah.  And that’s what we’re having for Easter.  It’s traditional.  Shut up, sit down and eat.”

    And, so saying, Ma started our traditional Easter Dinner.

Thursday, April 14, 2022

Anna Sultana’s Hot Cross Buns / A Traditional Family Easter

 

Happy Passover and Happy Easter!

Yesterday a Colorado Low wended its way north and dumped snow through the states it passed while on its way to us here in Manitoba.

Just what we needed.

Since we’d had a few days warning and everyone had been told to stay indoors during the blizzard it was a perfect day for us to catch up with some holiday baking, such as making some Hot Cross Buns.


Hot Cross Buns are a Maltese Lent staple.
Okay, it's originally an English recipe.
But the English had been in Malta since the time of Napoleon.
Thanks to Napoleon, I was born a British subject.
Long story.  Google 'Malta'.


Even though Malta became independent in 1964, some English folks stayed.
They'd been in Malta since the time of Napoleon.
That's enough time to get settled in and have roots in a place.

The English were never going to live on bread and water alone.
Maltese bakers cooked for their English customers, too.
Maltese folks tried the buns.
So, we have Napoleon to thank for Hot Cross buns.
Every cloud, even an invasion by Napoleon, can have a silver lining.


Hints:

If you have a container of egg whites in your fridge you can brush the buns with a few tablespoons of that instead of the egg yolk / water mixture.



                                        Hot Cross Buns

Makes 24 buns
          
Grease a large cookie pan or two smaller ones         

Combine in a large bowl
1 Tablespoon sugar
2 Tablespoons yeast
1/2 Cup warm water
Let sit 10 minutes.

While the yeast is sitting combine in a small bowl
2/3 Cup sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg

Measure out in a medium bowl
1 Cup raisins
1/2 Cup currants
1/2 Cup diced citron
Dust with flour and set aside.

After the 10 minutes have passed add to the yeast mixture
4 Tablespoons margarine
2 Cups warm water
4 eggs
the spice / sugar mixture
the floured fruit
Blend well.

Gradually stir in
8 - 9 Cups flour
Knead the dough on a floured surface 15 minutes.
Place dough in a greased bowl, cover and let rise 1 1/2 hours.
Punch down and divide evenly into 24 balls.
Shape into buns and place on prepared pan(s).
Cut a shallow cross on top.

Combine
1 egg yolk
1 tablespoon water
Brush buns with egg mixture. 
Let rise 35 minutes.

Preheat oven to 400ยบ F  

Bake 25 minutes.
Cool 15 minutes.

While the buns are cooling, combine for icing crosses
1 Cup icing sugar
2 Tablespoons lemon juice
1 teaspoon lemon extract
enough water to make a firm frosting
Spoon icing in cross grooves on the buns.


                                                          ~~~
I had originally written the following story for my radio show ‘2000 & Counting’.

In 2007 it was published in 'A/cross sections : new Manitoba writing', which was edited by Katharine Bitney and Andris Taskans, and published by the Manitoba Writers Guild. 

The book is still in the Winnipeg library system, adult nonfiction section.  Check it out.  You'll find lots of stories and poems by other Manitoba writers in it.

Why am I always writing about food?



                                        A Traditional Family Easter

    I made a loaf of soda bread to serve with the corned beef and cabbage on St. Patrick’s Day.  I don’t know why I did it.  I’m Maltese.  My husband is German/Swedish.  Not a single Irish person among our ancestors.  Then, on March nineteenth, I made a lasagna and cream puffs for St. Joseph.  I’d be twenty pounds lighter if I just ignored holidays.

    Yeah, right, like that’ll ever happen.     

    I’m a sucker for holiday traditions.  And, just like Christmas, Lent and Easter are loaded with holiday traditions.  Lent is the time to really clean the house.  Ah, spring cleaning.  Scrub and wax the floors, wash the windows and launder the curtains.  Everything from cellar to attic is glowing.  After being sealed in tighter than a drum all winter who could argue with giving the house a good cleaning?

    Lent is also a time to cut back on the calories.  Let’s be honest.  Who doesn’t want to drop the pounds gained during December?  Between the fasting and the exercise we get from cleaning house, we’re almost able to fit into the clothes we wore before Christmas.  Alleluia!!  Religion can be good for the body as well as the soul.  

    And then there’s Easter, when Christians celebrate Christ’s Resurrection.  We attend church in new outfits.  Little boys in little suits and little girls in fluffy dresses and shiny white patent leather shoes make families look like Hallmark cards.  

    Easter has more customs than the Bunny has eggs.  A popular tradition is to gather together and share a feast.  Over the centuries women have made this a glorious occasion with beautifully decorated eggs, colourful coffee cakes and traditional breads.

    According to tradition, an angel appeared to Mary to tell her that Jesus would arise on Easter.  To show her joy, Mary baked bread to share with her friends.  And to make the loaf more special, she put an egg, a symbol of life, on the top.  Now, I have to admit I don’t know what I’d do if someone told me that a recently deceased relative was rising from the dead.  I guess baking bread is as good a thing to do as any.  The only problem is that over the past two millennia something got lost in translation as that bread recipe went from country to country.

    And that’s when Easter went to hell in a bread basket.

    During my earliest years in Corona, a small town in Queens, New York, Easter was Italian.  Palm Sunday was the Day of the Olive.  Small blessed olive branches were offered as tokens of peacemaking.  For Easter breakfast we had Colomba di PasquaColomba is bread shaped to look like a dove, the symbol of peace, and covered with almond paste and almonds.  An Italian Easter dinner also had traditions.  First we had manicotti.  That was followed by a roasted whole baby lamb with a mixed salad, sauteed spinach and roasted artichokes.  For dessert there were cream tarts, cookies, spumoni, nuts and roasted chestnuts.  The adults had coffee.

    Then my parents moved to College Point, another small town in Queens, which had been settled by Irish and German families.  They had their own Easter customs.  Since Easter was not as commercial as Christmas, no one noticed when we followed our own customs.


    When I was seven I had to follow what Ma told me were the Church’s rules during Lent.  I ate kwarezimal, an almond cookie that was topped with honey and chopped pistachio nuts.  Ma said we could eat it during Lent because it didn’t have any fat or eggs.  For Maundy Thursday Ma baked bread in the form of a ring.  Its top was crusted with sesame seeds and pierced with roasted almonds.  Our Easter dinner menu was the same as it had been in Corona.  But, instead of making a Colomba di Pasqua, Ma baked a figolli, a Maltese sweet bread with a marzipan filling.  

    A figolli was harder to make than a colomba.  The dough was rolled about one centimeter thick.  Then Ma cut the dough into pairs of figolla with a figolla cutter.  They looked like a large letter J, but the stick part ended in a fish’s tail.  On one side of a figolla Ma spread jam and marzipan.  Then she covered it with the identical shape, as if she was making a sandwich.  After the figolli had been baked and cooled, they were covered with colored icing and piped royal icing.  Then a decorated Easter egg was placed on top of each figolli.  For the final touch a cardboard woman’s face was inserted into the mound of the J.  

    The odd thing about Ma’s traditional figolli was that it was a mermaid.  I asked Ma why a mermaid and not a dove.  She said, “I don’t know.  It’s our tradition.”  

    Well, you can’t argue with tradition.


    In College Point, as Easter approached, the bakeries filled with cross buns, pretzels, braided almond loaves, Easter cookies and marzipan treats.  There were also large decorated sugar Easter eggs which had a hole in one end.  When we looked into the hole we could see tiny bunny villages.  There were also hot cross buns.  Ma knew about the cross buns.  Since Malta was part of the British Empire, Ma had eaten them in Malta, too.      

    We brought samples of our mothers’ holiday baking to school.  There were lots of pretzels.  Since they didn’t have fat or eggs, we could eat them during Lent without risking eternal damnation.  I liked the braided loaves which had been covered with almond paste.  They reminded me of Colomba di Pasqua.  I brought some kwarezimal to school.  After I explained that the almond cookies didn’t have fat or eggs either, my friends agreed to try them.  


    Easter for my family was a simple celebration.  We went to church, wished everyone a “Happy Easter”, went home and ate our traditional foods.  There weren’t any problems until the year Ma’s brother Charlie married an American girl.  Aunt Liz wanted to learn more about Maltese customs.  Ma invited Charlie and Liz for Easter.  

    Pop told his oldest sister, Aunt Demi, that we had invited Charlie and Liz.  Aunt Demi was worried that our branch of the family was becoming too American.  So, Aunt Demi decided that she would come to dinner to make sure that Ma kept everything kosher.  

    Then Aunt Rita, one of my Sicilian Aunts, heard that we were inviting company for Easter.  Aunt Rita always took things personally.  She was insulted.  Why hadn’t she been invited, too?  Ma invited Aunt Rita, Uncle Tony and their children.  We had enough folding tables and chairs to seat everyone in the yard.  As long as it didn’t rain, Ma thought it would be a nice family dinner.

    Easter Sunday morning the sun was shining and the lamb was roasting on a spit in our yard.  The tables had been set.  Aunt Liz was taking notes and learning recipes.  She had brought a dozen cross buns and a jello mold.  The only thing missing was the centrepiece.  Aunt Demi had told Ma that she would bring a proper figolli.  

    It was the biggest figolli I’d ever seen.  The icing was as thick as my thumb.  While Aunt Demi was placing the Easter egg on her mermaid, Aunt Rita marched in and pulled a Colomba di Pasqua out of her tote bag.  The colomba had a three-foot wingspan.  There was barely room enough for one centrepiece.  

    Fish or fowl, which would Ma use?

After forty days of fasting and scrubbing, Demi and Rita were lean, clean, Easter tradition machines.  Filled with the holiday spirit, they glared at each other.

    “What the hell is that?”  Aunt Demi spat.
    “It’s a dove, a symbol of peace, you idiot,” Aunt Rita shot back.  
    “It’s Easter.  We don’t need a damn dove.”
    “Throw that fish back in the sea.”  
    “The figolli is part of our tradition.”
    “Since when did Jesus swim with the fishes?”
    Waving a knife, Aunt Demi lunged.  “Give me that bread.  I’ll cut it up for sandwiches.”
    “Over my dead body.”
    “No problem.”

    My Aunt Liz was fascinated by her new in-laws.  She wrote down everything they said.  Maybe she thought the fight was part of our jolly ethnic holiday tradition.  I stayed close to Liz in case she didn’t have sense enough to duck.  

    Ma went back to the kitchen.  She knew she couldn’t reason with her sisters-in-law.  Her plan was to hide in the kitchen until the smoke cleared.  If they killed each other it would leave more food for the others.

    “Maria, get out here,” Aunt Demi yelled.  Ma came out.  The men and the younger children were nowhere in sight.  They were taking a walk to work up an appetite.  Demi and Rita were rolling up their sleeves.  Liz was taking notes.  
    “I went to all this trouble,” Aunt Rita whined.
    Aunt Demi barked, “Tell this idiot we are using the figolli.”
    “It took me forever to make this,” Aunt Rita whined again.
    Ma tried to be a good hostess.  “They’re so big.  We could put them on chairs near the table.”

    No luck.  The Aunts wanted her to choose one.
   Aunt Demi announced, “We are having a traditional Maltese Easter dinner.  With a traditional figolli.”
    “Do you think our Blessed Mother baked a mermaid?” Aunt Rita sneered. 
    Demi lunged.  Liz wrote.  

    The lamb was ready.  If this dragged on much longer it would be a lump of coal.  


Ma sighed, glared at her sisters-in-law and said, “I don’t care if our Blessed Mother made hot dogs and beans. I’m tired of cleaning. I’m tired of baking. I’m tired of the whole damn holiday.

And I’m tired of bread. A few days ago I gave a figolli to a friend who lives down the street. Yesterday she came over and gave me a loaf of challah. So I have another traditional bread from Mrs. Cohen… Mrs. Cohen. That’s it!!” 

    Without saying another word Ma turned and went back to the kitchen.  In a few minutes she returned with the glossy braided challah on the platter. 

    “Our Blessed Mother was a Jew.  She would’ve made a challah.  And that’s what we’re having for Easter.  It’s traditional.  Shut up, sit down and eat.”

    And, so saying, Ma started our traditional Easter Dinner.

Friday, April 10, 2020

A Traditional Family Easter by Margaret Ullrich


I had originally written the following story for my radio show ‘2000 & Counting’. 

In 2007 it was published in 'A/cross sections : new Manitoba writing', which was edited by Katharine Bitney and Andris Taskans, and published by the Manitoba Writers Guild.  

The book is still in the Winnipeg library system, adult nonfiction section.  Check it out.  You'll find lots of stories and poems by other Manitoba writers in it.

Why am I always writing about food?


A Traditional Family Easter by Margaret Ullrich 

    I made a loaf of soda bread to serve with the corned beef and cabbage on St. Patrick’s Day.  I don’t know why I did it.  I’m Maltese.  My husband is German/Swedish.  Not a single Irish person among our ancestors.  Then, on March nineteenth, I made a lasagna and cream puffs for St. Joseph.  I’d be twenty pounds lighter if I just ignored holidays.

    Yeah, right, like that’ll ever happen.     

    I’m a sucker for holiday traditions.  And, just like Christmas, Lent and Easter are loaded with holiday traditions.  Lent is the time to really clean the house.  Ah, spring cleaning.  Scrub and wax the floors, wash the windows and launder the curtains.  Everything from cellar to attic is glowing.  After being sealed in tighter than a drum all winter who could argue with giving the house a good cleaning?

    Lent is also a time to cut back on the calories.  Let’s be honest.  Who doesn’t want to drop the pounds gained during December?  Between the fasting and the exercise we get from cleaning house, we’re almost able to fit into the clothes we wore before Christmas.  Alleluia!!  Religion can be good for the body as well as the soul.  

    And then there’s Easter, when Christians celebrate Christ’s Resurrection.  We attend church in new outfits.  Little boys in little suits and little girls in fluffy dresses and shiny white patent leather shoes make families look like Hallmark cards.  

    Easter has more customs than the Bunny has eggs.  A popular tradition is to gather together and share a feast.  Over the centuries women have made this a glorious occasion with beautifully decorated eggs, colourful coffee cakes and traditional breads.

    According to tradition, an angel appeared to Mary to tell her that Jesus would arise on Easter.  To show her joy, Mary baked bread to share with her friends.  And to make the loaf more special, she put an egg, a symbol of life, on the top.  Now, I have to admit I don’t know what I’d do if someone told me that a recently deceased relative was rising from the dead.  I guess baking bread is as good a thing to do as any.  The only problem is that over the past two millennia something got lost in translation as that bread recipe went from country to country.

    And that’s when Easter went to hell in a bread basket.

    During my earliest years in Corona, a small town in Queens, New York, Easter was Italian.  Palm Sunday was the Day of the Olive.  Small blessed olive branches were offered as tokens of peacemaking.  For Easter breakfast we had Colomba di Pasqua.  Colomba is bread shaped to look like a dove, the symbol of peace, and covered with almond paste and almonds.  An Italian Easter dinner also had traditions.  First we had manicotti.  That was followed by a roasted whole baby lamb with a mixed salad, sauteed spinach and roasted artichokes.  For dessert there were cream tarts, cookies, spumoni, nuts and roasted chestnuts.  The adults had coffee.

    Then my parents moved to College Point, another small town in Queens, which had been settled by Irish and German families.  They had their own Easter customs.  Since Easter was not as commercial as Christmas, no one noticed when we followed our own customs. 


    When I was seven I had to follow what Ma told me were the Church’s rules during Lent.  I ate kwarezimal, an almond cookie that was topped with honey and chopped pistachio nuts.  Ma said we could eat it during Lent because it didn’t have any fat or eggs.  For Maundy Thursday Ma baked bread in the form of a ring.  Its top was crusted with sesame seeds and pierced with roasted almonds.  Our Easter dinner menu was the same as it had been in Corona.  But, instead of making a Colomba di Pasqua, Ma baked a figolli, a Maltese sweet bread with a marzipan filling.  

    A figolli was harder to make than a colomba.  The dough was rolled about one centimeter thick.  Then Ma cut the dough into pairs of figolla with a figolla cutter.  They looked like a large letter J, but the stick part ended in a fish’s tail.  On one side of a figolla Ma spread jam and marzipan.  Then she covered it with the identical shape, as if she was making a sandwich.  After the figolli had been baked and cooled, they were covered with colored icing and piped royal icing.  Then a decorated Easter egg was placed on top of each figolli.  For the final touch a cardboard woman’s face was inserted into the mound of the J.  

    The odd thing about Ma’s traditional figolli was that it was a mermaid.  I asked Ma why a mermaid and not a dove.  She said, “I don’t know.  It’s our tradition.”  

    Well, you can’t argue with tradition.


    In College Point, as Easter approached, the bakeries filled with cross buns, pretzels, braided almond loaves, Easter cookies and marzipan treats.  There were also large decorated sugar Easter eggs which had a hole in one end.  When we looked into the hole we could see tiny bunny villages.  There were also hot cross buns.  Ma knew about the cross buns.  Since Malta was part of the British Empire, Ma had eaten them in Malta, too.      

    We brought samples of our mothers’ holiday baking to school.  There were lots of pretzels.  Since they didn’t have fat or eggs, we could eat them during Lent without risking eternal damnation.  I liked the braided loaves which had been covered with almond paste.  They reminded me of colomba di Pasqua.  I brought some kwarezimal to school.  After I explained that the almond cookies didn’t have fat or eggs either, my friends agreed to try them.  


    Easter for my family was a simple celebration.  We went to church, wished everyone a “Happy Easter”, went home and ate our traditional foods.  There weren’t any problems until the year Ma’s brother Charlie married an American girl.  Aunt Liz wanted to learn more about Maltese customs.  Ma invited Charlie and Liz for Easter.  

    Pop told his oldest sister, Aunt Demi, that we had invited Charlie and Liz.  Aunt Demi was worried that our branch of the family was becoming too American.  So, Aunt Demi decided that she would come to dinner to make sure that Ma kept everything kosher.  

    Then Aunt Rita, one of my Sicilian Aunts, heard that we were inviting company for Easter.  Aunt Rita always took things personally.  She was insulted.  Why hadn’t she been invited, too?  Ma invited Aunt Rita, Uncle Tony and their children.  We had enough folding tables and chairs to seat everyone in the yard.  As long as it didn’t rain, Ma thought it would be a nice family dinner.

    Easter Sunday morning the sun was shining and the lamb was roasting on a spit in our yard.  The tables had been set.  Aunt Liz was taking notes and learning recipes.  She had brought a dozen cross buns and a jello mold.  The only thing missing was the centrepiece.  Aunt Demi had told Ma that she would bring a proper figolli.  

    It was the biggest figolli I’d ever seen.  The icing was as thick as my thumb.  While Aunt Demi was placing the Easter egg on her mermaid, Aunt Rita marched in and pulled a Colomba di Pasqua out of her tote bag.  The colomba had a three-foot wingspan.  There was barely room enough for one centrepiece.  

    Fish or fowl, which would Ma use? 

After forty days of fasting and scrubbing, Demi and Rita were lean, clean, Easter tradition machines.  Filled with the holiday spirit, they glared at each other.

    “What the hell is that?”  Aunt Demi spat.
    “It’s a dove, a symbol of peace, you idiot,” Aunt Rita shot back.  
    “It’s Easter.  We don’t need a damn dove.”
    “Throw that fish back in the sea.”  
    “The figolli is part of our tradition.”
    “Since when did Jesus swim with the fishes?”
    Waving a knife, Aunt Demi lunged.  “Give me that bread.  I’ll cut it up for sandwiches.”
    “Over my dead body.”
    “No problem.”

    My Aunt Liz was fascinated by her new in-laws.  She wrote down everything they said.  Maybe she thought the fight was part of our jolly ethnic holiday tradition.  I stayed close to Liz in case she didn’t have sense enough to duck.  

    Ma went back to the kitchen.  She knew she couldn’t reason with her sisters-in-law.  Her plan was to hide in the kitchen until the smoke cleared.  If they killed each other it would leave more food for the others.

    “Maria, get out here,” Aunt Demi yelled.  Ma came out.  The men and the younger children were nowhere in sight.  They were taking a walk to work up an appetite.  Demi and Rita were rolling up their sleeves.  Liz was taking notes.  
    “I went to all this trouble,” Aunt Rita whined.
    Aunt Demi barked, “Tell this idiot we are using the figolli.”
    “It took me forever to make this,” Aunt Rita whined again.
    Ma tried to be a good hostess.  “They’re so big.  We could put them on chairs near the table.”

    No luck.  The Aunts wanted her to choose one.
   Aunt Demi announced, “We are having a traditional Maltese Easter dinner.  With a traditional figolli.”
    “Do you think our Blessed Mother baked a mermaid?” Aunt Rita sneered.  
    Demi lunged.  Liz wrote.  

    The lamb was ready.  If this dragged on much longer it would be a lump of coal.  

    Ma sighed, glared at her sisters-in-law and said, “I don’t care if our Blessed Mother made hot dogs and beans.  I’m tired of cleaning.  I’m tired of baking.  I’m tired of the whole damn holiday.  
    And I’m tired of bread.  A few days ago I gave a figolli to a friend who lives down the street.  Yesterday she came over and gave me a loaf of challah.  So I have another traditional bread from Mrs. Cohen… Mrs. Cohen.  That’s it!!” 

    Without saying another word Ma turned and went back to the kitchen.  In a few minutes she returned with the glossy braided challah on the platter.  

    “Our Blessed Mother was a Jew.  She would’ve made a challah.  And that’s what we’re having for Easter.  It’s traditional.  Shut up, sit down and eat.”

    And, so saying, Ma started our traditional Easter Dinner.

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

Anna Sultana’s Brunch Cheesecake and the Lyrid Meteor Showers

Easter is almost here!
A time of faith and blessings.
A time of family memory making and traditions.
A time of famished relatives and food expectations.

The dinner menu - turkey, ham, lamb or beef - will take care of the family later in the day.
But you can’t exactly let them starve until then.
Sure… you could pull out a few boxes of cereal, just like any other morning.
But you know they’ll give you ‘THE LOOK’.

Funny the things the kids learn from us.

Okay… you’ve been through enough, what with the Spring cleaning and holiday baking.
You don’t deserve getting ‘THE LOOK’. 
This Brunch Cheesecake is easy to make but looks impressive.
It can be prepared on Saturday and allowed to sit in the refrigerator, ready to wow them on Sunday morning.

Happy Easter!!


Hints:

Don’t have lemon zest?  Add another tablespoon of lemon juice.

Want something with a top crust?
Spread 1/3 of the batter onto the bottom of the prepared pan.
Cover with the cream cheese mixture.
Cover with spoonfuls of the remaining batter.
Bake as you would for the original recipe.

Leftover cheesecake is great as a breakfast or for dessert on Monday.


Feeding a crowd? Here are a few more brunch ideas:









                        Brunch Cheesecake


Lightly grease a 9 x 13 inch baking dish 

Place in a large mixer bowl
2 packages (250 g or 8 ounces each) cream cheese, softened
1 container (454 g or 1 pound) ricotta cheese
2 large eggs
1/4 Cup granulated sugar
2 teaspoons lemon zest
3 Tablespoons lemon juice 
Beat at medium speed until blended. 

Combine in a medium bowl
3 large eggs
1 Cup butter or margarine, melted
1/4 Cup milk 

Combine in another large bowl
1 Tablespoon baking powder 
1/2 Cup granulated sugar
1 Cup flour
Stir in the egg mixture and beat until blended.

Heat oven to 350°F

Spread the batter onto the bottom of the prepared pan.
Cover with the cream cheese mixture.
Bake 55 to 60 minutes, or until the centre is set. 
Allow the cake to cool.

Cut into 16 portions and place on plates.
Sprinkle with
confectioners' sugar 
Top with a dollop of sour cream and jam (optional) 

Serve with fresh fruit.


About the sky this week and next, thanks to the folks at The Farmers' Almanac…

April 15 - The waning gibbous Moon is at apogee, its farthest point from Earth. (An easy way to remember: Apogee = Away)

April 16 - In the morning, look to see the waning gibbous Moon just 5 degrees from Saturn. Look to the west at nightfall to see the “Seven Sisters” (known as the Pleiades Star Cluster) hover above Mars.

April 19 - Last quarter Moon, 5:57 p.m. The Moon appears as a half Moon in the sky. One-half of the Moon is illuminated by direct sunlight while the illuminated part is decreasing, heading toward the New Moon (invisible) phase.

April 21 - Late Friday night into the early morning hours of Saturday, look for the Lyrid meteor showers. Up to 10 “shooting stars” per hour radiate from a spot near the brilliant bluish star Vega. The waning crescent moon will not rise until after 4 a.m., thus assuring dark skies most of the night. These meteors are the dust left behind by Comet Thatcher, which visited the inner solar system in 1861.

April 26 - New Moon, 8:16 a.m. 

April 27 - The barely visible waxing Moon (3% illuminated) is at perigee, its closest point in its orbit to Earth for the month.

Thursday, March 30, 2017

Anna Sultana's Hot Cross Muffins

One a penny, two a penny... 
hot cross buns...
If you have no daughters, 
give them to your sons.

How many foods have inspired poetry?
Hot cross buns are a traditional Lent favourite.
About six years ago I posted the recipe for Ma’s Hot Cross Buns.
And it’s a great, traditional recipe.


The problem with Hot Cross Buns is that it takes a bit of time to make them.
We’re talking a few hours, what with the kneading, rising, forming and second rising.
Then there’s the baking.
Not the greatest thing to make if you’ve just gotten a phone call telling you that your tradition-bound elderly Auntie will be visiting in an hour.

Every family has a tradition-bound elderly relative, the one who expects you to have a ready supply of desserts in keeping with the season.
The relative who will tell everyone that you have no respect for tradition if you don't.

Not to worry… these muffins are easy to make and taste nice and spicy.
Auntie will love them.


Hints:

This recipe  can also be baked as a loaf:
Lightly grease a 9 × 5 x 2 inch loaf pan.
Preheat oven to 350ยบ
Prepare the same batter as for the muffins.
Scrape the batter into the prepared loaf pan and smooth the top.
Bake 1 hour. Insert a cake tester to make sure the loaf is done.
Cool on a rack 15 minutes.
After 5 minutes, remove the loaf from the pan and cool completely on the rack.

While the loaf is cooling, combine in a medium bowl for icing:
1 Cup confectioners’ sugar
2 Tablespoons lemon juice
enough water to make a firm frosting
Spoon icing to form a pattern on the loaf, or spread the icing over the loaf and decorate with sprinkles.

Place the muffins or loaf in an airtight container.
Store at room temperature up to 3 days or freeze up to 2 months.


If you’ve got more time to spare and you’d like to make a platter of muffins to really shut up... I mean, impress Auntie, these recipes would the job:






                        Easy Hot Cross Muffins

grease (or paper line) 12 medium-sized muffin cups
Place rack in centre of the oven.
preheat oven to 350ยบ

in a large bowl combine
1 3/4 Cups flour
2/3 Cup sugar
1 Tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon     
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves    
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg 
1/2 teaspoon ground allspice            
                                 
Add and mix in well
1/2 cup raisins
1/2 Cup candied mixed peel
1/2 Cup currants

Melt
2 Tablespoons butter

Place in a medium bowl 
1 egg
1 Cup milk
1/4 Cup oil
2 Tablespoons orange juice
the melted butter
1 teaspoon vanilla
Blend thoroughly.

Add the egg mixture to the dry ingredients.
Stir just until mixed. 
The batter will be lumpy.
Spoon into the prepared cups.
Bake 20 to 25 minutes. Insert a cake tester to make sure the muffins are done.
Cool on a rack 15 minutes.
Remove the muffins from the pan and cool completely on the rack.

While the muffins are cooling, combine in a medium bowl for icing:
1 Cup confectioners’ sugar
2 Tablespoons lemon juice
enough water to make a firm frosting
Spoon icing to form a cross on each muffin.