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.

Anna Sultana’s German-Style Chocolate Cake, Kuchen and Gingerbread for Father's Day

Goodness! Next Sunday is Father's Day!
I hope that the weather will be great and that everyone will enjoy the day.

My Pop loved chocolate cake.
Every Sunday after Mass he would pick up one, along with a half dozen loaves of bread, from the Italian bakery.
Because Pop loved chocolate cake I always think of making one for Father’s Day.

Over the years I’ve posted a few chocolate cake recipes.
If you’re curious, just type ‘chocolate cake’ in the Search box and click.
The most popular chocolate cake recipe I've ever posted - it’s received 3,287 visits - is Carmela Soprano’s Baci Cake
https://imturning60help.blogspot.com/2011/01/carmela-sopranos-baci-cake.html


Maybe your Dad enjoys chocolate cake, too.
It’s been a while since I posted a chocolate cake recipe.
It’s definitely time for me to post another.

An old favourite of mine is Anna Sultana’s Mocha Cake
https://imturning60help.blogspot.com/2016/02/anna-sultanas-mocha-cake-and-mocha.html

Another is Anna Sultana’s German Chocolate Cake
https://imturning60help.blogspot.com/2017/04/anna-sultanas-german-chocolate-cake.html

German Chocolate Cake was a recipe Mrs. Kekelia had shared with Ma.
Just like Baci Cake it takes a bit of work, and is delicious.
We’ve been having an awfully hot June and, if you’re like me, a simpler cake is all you can handle.
Simpler doesn’t mean it can’t taste good.
Ma had hot and busy Junes, too, so, she tweaked the German Chocolate Cake and created a simpler version.

If you have the time and energy, well, go ahead and use it.
If you’re looking for simple but good, give this variation a try.


If your Dad isn’t a chocolate fan he might enjoy a slice of Kuchen.
Kuchen (pronounced koo-ken) is the German word for cake, but it’s more like a custardy fruit pie.
Gingerbread is is really easy and really good.

If you, or your Dad, would rather not barbecue, I’ll post some dinner recipes on June 14.


Hints:

To make a substitute for buttermilk for cooking, just place about 1/2 teaspoon vinegar in a measuring cup and add enough milk to make 1/3 Cup soured milk. Stir and use. It isn’t an exact recipe.

About the German-Style Chocolate Cake…
For best results, bring the ingredients to room temperature.

You can make the cake in advance. Let the layer cool completely, then wrap it in plastic wrap and place in a freezer bag. It can be frozen for up to one month.

Store leftovers covered in the refrigerator.

About the Kuchen…
Kuchen can be made with whatever fruit is available. Instead of peaches you can use apples, plums, apricots, cherries, berries, pears, whatever you have.
If you don’t have fresh fruit use canned or frozen. All you need is 2 cups of fruit.

About the Gingerbread…
The cake is very moist and makes its own glaze.
You can sprinkle confectioners sugar over it, but it really doesn't need it.


                                                               German-Style Chocolate Cake

For the Cake:

Grease a 9x13 inch pan  

Place in a small bowl
1/3 Cup buttermilk
1 large egg
1 large egg white
3/4 teaspoon vanilla
Lightly beat together and set aside.

Place in a 1-quart saucepan
2/3 Cup water
1/2 Cup unsalted butter, cut into pieces
1/4 Cup unsweetened cocoa, packed
Cook, stirring occasionally, over medium heat until the butter melts. Set aside.

Preheat oven to 350º F

Sift together into a medium mixing bowl
1 1/4 Cups flour
1 Cup sugar
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
Add the warm liquid mixture and stir to combine, about 30 seconds.
Add the buttermilk mixture and stir together for another 30 seconds.
Pour the mixture into the prepared pan.
Bake for 22 to 25 minutes, or until toothpick inserted in centre comes out clean.
Cool on wire rack while making the frosting.

For the Frosting:

Finely chop pecans to make 3/4 Cup
Lightly toast and set aside.

Place in a 2-quart saucepan
1 large egg
1 large egg yolk
2/3 Cup sugar
2/3 Cup evaporated milk
Pinch salt
5 Tablespoons unsalted butter
Stir to blend in the eggs.
Cook, stirring constantly, over medium heat until mixture comes to a boil, then cook, stirring constantly, for another 8 minutes.
Remove from heat and stir in
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1 Cup unsweetened shredded coconut
the toasted pecans

Spread the warm frosting over the partially cooled cake.
Serve at room temperature.


                                                               Kuchen

Grease an 8 inch square baking pan

Combine in a small bowl
1/4 Cup brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg or cinnamon

Place in a medium bowl and stir together
1 Cup flour
3/4 Cup old fashioned oats
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
Cut in
1/2 Cup shortening
Stir in
1 egg
2 Tablespoons milk
Press the dough across the bottom and 2 inches up the sides of of the prepared pan.

Preheat oven to 400º F

Evenly place over the crust
2 Cups canned sliced peaches, drained (or you can use fresh)
Sprinkle the brown sugar / spice mixture over the peaches.
Bake for 10 minutes.

While the crust is baking, place in a small bowl
1 Cup whipping cream
2 large egg yolks or 1 large egg
Beat together to make the custard.

After the kuchen has baked for 10 minutes remove the pan from the oven.
Pour the custard mixture over the fruit, then put it back in the oven.
Bake for another 30 minutes, or until the custard is firm.
Serve warm, topped with whipped cream (optional).


                                                               Gingerbread

Preheat oven to 350º F
Grease and flour a 9 inch square pan

Sift into a medium bowl
2 Cups flour
2 teaspoons ginger
2 teaspoons cinnamon
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon allspice
1/4 teaspoon salt

Place in a large bowl
1/2 Cup butter or margarine, at room temperature
1/2 Cup sugar (white or light brown)
Cream together and add
1 egg
1/2 Cup buttermilk
1/2 Cup applesauce
1 Cup molasses
Stir in the flour mixture and pour into prepared pan.
Bake for 50 to 60 minutes, or until knife inserted in centre comes out clean.

                                              ~~~
This is a piece I wrote in 2006 for my CKUW show. Hope that it gives you a chuckle.

I hope all you Dads will have a great Father's Day.

People talk about how Christmas has changed over the years. Well, I think Father's Day has changed even more than Christmas has.

In the fifties, Father's Day was pretty simple. It was a snap to shop for Dads. Moms were hard. There were so many different toilet waters. Lipstick colours changed every year. One year Lucille Ball Red was popular. The next year every lady was wearing Flaming Fuschia. I mean, how was an elementary school kid supposed to know what to get?  
   
Dads were easy. They always needed a pair of socks or another tie. There WAS something about an Aqua Velva man. The bottles of blue water came in a variety of sizes and they were all cheap. If you had to soften Dad up for the report card that was coming, you could splurge on Old Spice or English Leather for a few pennies more.

If you'd blown all your money for Mother's Day - an easy thing to do - you could get another tube of Brylcreme. Those little dabs went fast and Dad always needed another tube so he could look debonair and Mom could run her fingers through his hair.  

Keeping the family car spiffy has always been a Dad's job. Remember when they were unwrapping their presents in the movie A Christmas Story? Dad Darren McGavin was thrilled to get a tin of Simonize for his car. It was big. It was heavy. It was cheap.

That was the Golden Age for Dads gifts. But now? Let's just say that Dads are getting to be as big a problem as Moms are, gift-wise.

I always thought of men as being rough and ready in their grooming needs. I raised a son. He once took a bath, answered nature's call, then went straight to drying everything - and I mean everything - with the bath towel. He thought cutting out a small step would save some time. At least that was his explanation when I asked him about the skid marks on the yellow towel.

Now men have discovered their inner Alan Alda. They know about brands like Nivea. Soap on a rope has lost its oomph. Blades and a can of Barbasol just won't cut it anymore. Guys have discovered grooming sets: shower gels, body washes, face scrubs, after shave balms and a post shave soother that the nice sales clerk swore will control his beard's growth. You know, the same crap and sales pitches they've been throwing at women for years.  

And for the guy who's really into his feminine side, there are events like the Papa-razzi Package at the Fairmont Hotel in Vancouver. The 36 hour getaway includes an hour-long massage, a facial, foot care, a souvenir shaving kit and a round of golf. The package costs $2,165 plus taxes and airfare if you don't happen to live in Vancouver. Hey, femininity never came cheap.

Tools have always been popular gifts. Something is always getting lost or broken, right? Time was when, after being showered with a 32 piece wrench set, a 14 piece clamp set and a 65 piece screwdriver set, every Dad was ready, willing and eager to wrench, clamp and screw any and everything in the house.

Fellows, I was wondering… if a man receives a 205 piece drill and screw driving set (consisting of screw driving bits, nut driving bits, spade bits, high speed drill bits, hole saws, masonry drill bits, sanding drums and a countersink which, I've been told, are ideal to use on wood, metal, plastic, brick, mortar and concrete) would he really use them all or just stick to a half dozen favourite pieces? You know, the way we women use the same favourite spoons and pans in the kitchen.  Sometimes wretched excess is just, well, excessive.

Speaking of the kitchen, a Dad's cooking used to be basic. Raw meat plus fire equaled hard small hockey pucks served with ketchup and relish in a bun. Raw onion slices were added for the July first weekend. Up to now the most exciting thing I'd ever seen a man do at the barbecue was to stick a can of beer up a chicken's butt so it could stand and roast. It looked almost patriotic.  

Dads made simple basic food. And healthy. No E coli bacteria could ever survive a Dad's barbecue.  

Now folks are dropping like flies because Dads have discovered cuisine. Ketchup and mustard have disappeared. Guys who flunked Geography and can't find their way to their in-laws across town without a CAA trip-tik are now into Japanese, Mexican and Thai recipes.

While at the Liquor Commission, I picked up the freebie Flavours magazine. On the cover it said Sassy sauces for your grilled goodies. Uh, huh. I don't know what my Dad would've thought of things like sorrel-spinach sauce. On salmon, yet.

There was also an article about the joys of salt water. According to the folks at Flavours, soaking food in brine is the key to a killer barbecue. I don't know. I remember one picnic forty years ago when the boat tipped over, everyone and everything fell out and everything got doused with good old salty Atlantic Ocean water. No one thought that was anything worth repeating ever again.

Shish kebabs used to be simple. Meat, onion, green pepper… meat, onion, green pepper… meat, onion, green pepper… until you ran out of everything. Well, now bamboo skewers aren't good enough anymore. Oh, no. One recipe in Flavours should earn a cook a Boy Scout badge. Get this: Peel fresh ginger and cut into several four inch long skewers. Then carve the ginger on one end into a sharp point. If your local grocer is out of long chunks of ginger, don't panic. You can also do the same thing to lemongrass stalks.  

Oh, pull-lease!! If God meant us to spend our short summers carving little sticks He never would've made those nice clean bags of bamboo skewers. Life - and a Manitoba summer - is way too short for that kind of nonsense.     
 
There was a time when a bag of coal big enough to burn down a house could warm the cockles of a Dad's heart. It could keep a fellow busy for a whole summer's worth of Sundays. Now charcoal has some competition. Have you been exposed to Mesquite-Flavoured wood chips? Our neighbour, Lou, really loves mesquite. He chopped some chips up and sprinkled them on the salad. Okay.  Lou isn't quite right in the head. Last week he served up what he called grilled pizza. Uh, huh. Like we didn't notice the take out boxes stacked next to his recycling.  

We have an old gas barbecue that chugs along with 11,000 BTUs. It has been doing a dandy job of turning meat into blackened briquets for quite a few happy family gatherings. Have you seen the new barbecues? When did guys start pimping their grills? The big selling feature for these monsters is how many BTUs are under the hood.  

I checked the dictionary. BTU means British Thermal Units. Well, that was a big help. I needed to get BTU into terms I could understand. I looked around my house and found that my gas water heater has 30,000 BTUs. The heater is plastered with little notes from Furnaceman. Cheery messages like: Third degree burns can occur in six seconds when the water is 60º C. Death is also possible. 

Hmmm… My water heater has 30,000 BTUs and it can get water hot enough to kill somebody.

A Kalamazoo Bread Breaker Two Dual-Fuel grill with an infrared rotisserie cradle system and a side burner has a 154,000 BTU capacity. It has a temperature gauge that reaches 1000º F. It also has nighttime grilling lights. Why? Would a middle-aged hubby, after his 3 a.m. pee, get an uncontrollable urge to wander out to the Kalamazoo and grill a couple of turkeys?

According to the manufacturer, it's geared to the Man cook with fire market segment.    

Middle-aged men, who normally think it's a hassle to reheat leftovers in a microwave, are gathering around these monster barbecues and acting like a bunch of teenage boys. They're checking under the hood, twisting dials and rattling off phrases like "Mounted smoker box… warming rack… hi-dome cooking lid… porcelain coated cooking grid… heat plates" with the same slobbering enthusiasm most had for their first car.

There are also barbecue accessories. I'm not talking long handled forks and aprons that tell folks to kiss the cook.  

The Centro food prep station is a buffet, cooler and more. It can be connected to the barbecue to create a complete outdoor kitchen. Hey, fellas! There's a room that has all this stuff. You're welcome to come and flex your cooking muscles all year round. Sorry the oven only goes to 500º F, but, we girls have been able to crank out complete holiday dinners in it. It's called the kitchen.

Maybe the Discovery Channel was trying to do a public service. They recently had a special on the 1883 Krakatoa catastrophe. When Krakatoa went Kabooie, it produced an ash cloud. The ashes and gases reached 1000º F. Most of the people in a 30 mile radius were killed by the extremely hot air which liquified their lungs.
     
Dads, if some fool gave you the Bread Breaker, think of Al Gore and take it back.
The ozone layer will thank you.
The environment will thank you!
The lungs of everyone within 30 miles will thank you!!

And, most important, the family's burgers and wieners will thank you!!! 

Anna Sultana’s German Chocolate Cake & McCain’s Deep ‘n Delicious / Barbecuing Dads

Happy Father's Day!
Hoping that the weather will co-operate on Sunday and that everyone will be able to enjoy the day.

My Pop loved chocolate cake.
Each Sunday after Mass he would pick up one, along with a half dozen loaves of bread, from the Italian bakery.
Maybe your Dad enjoys chocolate cake, too.

It’s been a while since I posted a chocolate cake recipe.

A little over a year ago I posted the recipe for Ma’s Dark Chocolate Cheesecake.
Over the years I’ve posted quite a few cheesecake recipes.
Cheesecake was a staple on the program The Golden Girls.
Whenever the girls had to gather for something major, out came the cheesecake.
Most women would admit cheesecake is basic comfort food.

Well, it’s definitely time for me to post another chocolate cake recipe.
And with Father’s Day coming, why not go for a special one.
German Chocolate Cake takes a bit of work, and is delicious.

Mrs. Kekelia had given me a slice when I was four years old.
Well, I told Ma about it, Ma asked Mrs. Kekelia for the recipe, Mrs. Kekelia kindly gave her a recipe, and Ma made her usual tweaks.
Don’t ask me which version I found most delicious.

Ma also found a recipe for German Chocolate Cake on a box of Baker’s Chocolate.
Here it is, with Ma’s tweaks.


McCain Deep’n Delicious Chocolate Cake is a Canadian treat.
A few years ago KFC included a cake in a very popular bucket deal.
If you can’t find McCain cakes in your local grocery store this is a good match.
Enjoy!!


Hints:

To make soured milk, or a substitute for buttermilk for cooking, add vinegar to regular milk.
For example, place 2 teaspoons vinegar in a measuring cup and add enough milk to make 3/4 Cup soured milk.
It’s not an exact science.

Store leftover cakes in the fridge.

About the German Chocolate Cake…
For best results, bring the ingredients to room temperature.

You can make the cake in advance. Let the layers cool completely, then wrap them in plastic wrap and place in a freezer bag.
Layers can be frozen for up to one month and can be frosted while frozen.

Both frostings can be made ahead and stored in a covered container in the fridge.
Remove containers from the fridge about an hour before you need them so that they’ll be easier to spread.

About the McCain’s Deep ‘n Delicious cake…
You can use a piping bag fitted with a star tip to make the frosting look like the real thing.
It tastes just as good if you just spread it on the cake.


                        German Chocolate Cake

For the Cake:

Grease 3 8-inch round cake pans.   
Line bottom of pans with waxed paper.  


Sift together
2 Cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt   

Place in a sauce pan
4 ounces German or Sweet Chocolate
1/2 Cup water
Melt the chocolate and water together over low heat.
Set aside to cool.

Place in a large mixer bowl
1 Cup softened butter
2 Cups sugar
Cream until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes.

Add, one at a time, beating after each addition
4 large egg yolks
Blend in
1 teaspoon vanilla
the melted chocolate

Making 3 dry and 2 liquid additions, add
the flour mixture
1 Cup buttermilk
Blend at medium speed after each addition.

Preheat oven to 350º F   

Place in a medium mixer bowl
4 large egg whites
Beat at medium speed until foamy.
Increase the speed to high and beat until stiff peaks form when the beaters are lifted.      
With a spatula gently fold about a quarter of the egg whites into the mixture.
Repeat 3 times.

Spread batter in prepared pans.
Bake 30 minutes, until cake tester inserted in centre comes out clean.
Remove from oven. Run a spatula around the layers.
Let the layers cool in the pans on a wire rack for 15 minutes.
Remove the layers from the pans and let them cool completely.

For the Coconut Pecan Frosting:

Chop
pecans to make 1 1/2 Cups

In a large saucepan combine
12 ounces evaporated milk
1 1/2 Cups sugar
4 egg yolks
3/4 Cup butter
Cook over medium heat about 5 minutes, stirring, until mixture comes to a full boil.
Stirring constantly, cook 2 more minutes, until mixture is a caramel colour.
Remove from heat and stir in
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla
2 Cups coconut
the chopped pecans
Cool slightly.
Beat until cool and thick.

Place an upside down cake layer on a serving platter.
spread one-third of the frosting over the layer.
Top with second layer and cover with half of the remaining frosting.
Top with third cake layer and cover with remaining frosting.


                        McCain’s Deep ‘n Delicious

For the Cake:

Grease  a 9 x 13-inch baking pan
Line with parchment up the length of 2 sides.         

Sift together in a medium bowl
1 3/4 Cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 Cups granulated sugar
2/3 Cup cocoa powder, sifted
1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt

Preheat oven to 350º F

Place in a large mixer bowl
2 eggs
2/3 Cup buttermilk
1/2 Cup canola oil
2 teaspoons vanilla
Whisk together.
Stir in flour mixture until just combined.
Whisk in
1/2 Cup hot water
Pour into prepared pan.         

Bake 30 minutes, until cake tester inserted in centre comes out clean.
Let cake cool in pan on a rack for 30 minutes.
Place rack on top of cake, then invert and remove baking pan and parchment.
Cool completely, about 30 minutes, then invert cake onto serving platter.

For the Icing:

Combine in a medium bowl
4 1/2 Cups icing sugar, sifted
1/2 Cup cocoa powder, sifted

Place in a large mixer bowl
3/4 Cup butter, softened
Beat on medium-high, until fluffy.
Reduce speed to medium-low and, making 3 dry and 2 liquid additions, add
icing sugar mixture
1/3 Cup milk
Pipe with a star tip or spread icing with a spatula on cake.

                                                             ~~~

This is a piece I wrote in 2006 for my CKUW show. Hope that it gives you a chuckle.
Stay safe and well, everyone!

     I hope all you Dads will have a great Father's Day.

     People talk about how Christmas has changed over the years.  Well, I think Father's Day has changed even more than Christmas has.

     In the fifties, Father's Day was pretty simple.  It was a snap to shop for Dads.  Moms were hard.  There were so many different toilet waters.  Lipstick colours changed every year.  One year Lucille Ball Red was popular.  The next year every lady was wearing Flaming Fuschia.  I mean, how was an elementary school kid supposed to know what to get?  
   
     Dads were easy.  They always needed a pair of socks or another tie.  There WAS something about an Aqua Velva man.  The bottles of blue water came in a variety of sizes and they were all cheap.  If you had to soften Dad up for the report card that was coming, you could splurge on Old Spice or English Leather for a few pennies more.

     If you'd blown all your money for Mother's Day - an easy thing to do - you could get another tube of Brylcreme.  Those little dabs went fast and Dad always needed another tube so he could look debonaire and Mom could run her fingers through his hair.  

     Keeping the family car spiffy has always been a Dad's job.  Remember when they were unwrapping their presents in the movie A Christmas Story?  Dad Darren McGavin was thrilled to get a tin of Simonize for his car.  It was big.  It was heavy.  It was cheap.

     That was the Golden Age for Dads gifts.  But now?  Let's just say that Dads are getting to be as big a problem as Moms are, gift-wise.

     I always thought of men as being rough and ready in their grooming needs.  I raised a son.  He once took a bath, answered nature's call, then went straight to drying everything - and I mean everything - with the bath towel.  He thought cutting out a small step would save some time.  At least that was his explanation when I asked him about the skid marks on the yellow towel.

     Now men have discovered their inner Alan Alda.  They know about brands like Nivea.  Soap on a rope has lost its oomph.  Blades and a can of Barbasol just won't cut it anymore.  Guys have discovered grooming sets: shower gels, body washes, face scrubs, after shave balms and a post shave soother that the nice sales clerk swore will control his beard's growth.  You know, the same crap and sales pitches they've been throwing at women for years.  

     And for the guy who's really into his feminine side, there are events like the Papa-razzi Package at the Fairmont Hotel in Vancouver.  The 36 hour getaway includes an hour-long massage, a facial, foot care, a souvenir shaving kit and a round of golf.  The package costs $2,165 plus taxes and airfare if you don't happen to live in Vancouver.  Hey, femininity never came cheap.

     Tools have always been popular gifts.  Something is always getting lost or broken, right?  Time was when, after being showered with a 32 piece wrench set, a 14 piece clamp set and a 65 piece screwdriver set, every Dad was ready, willing and eager to wrench, clamp and screw any and everything in the house.

     Fellows, I was wondering… if a man receives a 205 piece drill and screw driving set (consisting of screw driving bits, nut driving bits, spade bits, high speed drill bits, hole saws, masonry drill bits, sanding drums and a countersink which, I've been told, are ideal to use on wood, metal, plastic, brick, mortar and concrete) would he really use them all or just stick to a half dozen favourite pieces?  You know, the way we women use the same favorite spoons and pans in the kitchen.  Sometimes wretched excess is just, well, excessive.

     Speaking of the kitchen, a Dad's cooking used to be basic.  Raw meat plus fire equaled hard small hockey pucks served with ketchup and relish in a bun.  Raw onion slices were added for the July first weekend.  Up to now the most exciting thing I'd ever seen a man do at the barbecue was to stick a can of beer up a chicken's butt so it could stand and roast.  It looked almost patriotic.  

     Dads made simple basic food.  And healthy.  No E coli bacteria could ever survive a Dad's barbecue.  

     Now folks are dropping like flies because Dads have discovered cuisine.  Ketchup and mustard have disappeared.  Guys who flunked Geography and can't find their way to their in-laws across town without a CAA trip-tik are now into Japanese, Mexican and Thai recipes.

     While at the Liquor Commission, I picked up the freebie Flavours magazine.  On the cover it said Sassy sauces for your grilled goodies.  Uh, huh.  I don't know what my Dad would've thought of things like sorrel-spinach sauce.  On salmon, yet.

     There was also an article about the joys of salt water.  According to the folks at Flavours, soaking food in brine is the key to a killer barbecue.  I don't know.  I remember one picnic forty years ago when the boat tipped over, everyone and everything fell out and everything got doused with good old salty Atlantic Ocean water.  No one thought that was anything worth repeating ever again.

     Shish kebabs used to be simple.  Meat, onion, green pepper… meat, onion, green pepper… meat, onion, green pepper… until you ran out of everything.  Well, now bamboo skewers aren't good enough anymore.  Oh, no.  One recipe in Flavours should earn a cook a Boy Scout badge.  Get this: Peel fresh ginger and cut into several four inch long skewers.  Then carve the ginger on one end into a sharp point.  If your local grocer is out of long chunks of ginger, don't panic.  You can also do the same thing to lemongrass stalks.  

     Oh, pull-lease!!  If God meant us to spend our short summers carving little sticks He never would've made those nice clean bags of bamboo skewers.  Life - and a Manitoba summer - is way too short for that kind of nonsense.     
 
     There was a time when a bag of coal big enough to burn down a house could warm the cockles of a Dad's heart.  It could keep a fellow busy for a whole summer's worth of Sundays.  Now charcoal has some competition.  Have you been exposed to Mesquite-Flavoured wood chips?  Our neighbour, Lou, really loves mesquite.  He chopped some chips up and sprinkled them on the salad.  Okay.  Lou isn't quite right in the head.  Last week he served up what he called grilled pizza.  Uh, huh.  Like we didn't notice the take out boxes stacked next to his recycling.  

     We have an old gas barbecue that chugs along with 11,000 BTUs.  It has been doing a dandy job of turning meat into blackened briquets for quite a few happy family gatherings.  Have you seen the new barbecues?  When did guys start pimping their grills?  The big selling feature for these monsters is how many BTUs are under the hood.  

     I checked the dictionary.  BTU means British Thermal Units.  Well, that was a big help.  I needed to get BTU into terms I could understand.  I looked around my house and found that my gas water heater has 30,000 BTUs.  The heater is plastered with little notes from Furnaceman.  Cheery messages like: Third degree burns can occur in six seconds when the water is 60º C.  Death is also possible. 

     Hmmm…  My water heater has 30,000 BTUs and it can get water hot enough to kill somebody.

     A Kalamazoo Bread Breaker Two Dual-Fuel grill with an infrared rotisserie cradle system and a side burner has a 154,000 BTU capacity.  It has a temperature gauge that reaches 1000º F.  It also has nighttime grilling lights.  Why?  Would a middle-aged hubby, after his 3 a.m. pee, get an uncontrollable urge to wander out to the Kalamazoo and grill a couple of turkeys?

     According to the manufacturer, it's geared to the Man cook with fire market segment.    

     Middle-aged men, who normally think it's a hassle to reheat leftovers in a microwave, are gathering around these monster barbecues and acting like a bunch of teenage boys.  They're checking under the hood, twisting dials and rattling off phrases like "Mounted smoker box… warming rack… hi-dome cooking lid… porcelain coated cooking grid… heat plates" with the same slobbering enthusiasm most had for their first car.

     There are also barbecue accessories.  I'm not talking long handled forks and aprons that tell folks to kiss the cook.  

     The Centro food prep station is a buffet, cooler and more.  It can be connected to the barbecue to create a complete outdoor kitchen.  Hey, fellas!  There's a room that has all this stuff.  You're welcome to come and flex your cooking muscles all year round.  Sorry the oven only goes to 500º F, but, we girls have been able to crank out complete holiday dinners in it.  it's called the kitchen.

     Maybe the Discovery Channel was trying to do a public service.  They recently had a special on the 1883 Krakatoa catastrophe.  When Krakatoa went Kabooie, it produced an ash cloud.  The ashes and gases reached 1000º F.  Most of the people in a 30 mile radius were killed by the extremely hot air which liquified their lungs.
     
     Dads, if some fool gave you the Bread Breaker, think of Al Gore and take it back.
     The ozone layer will thank you.
     The environment will thank you!
     The lungs of everyone within 30 miles will thank you!!

     And, most important, the family's burgers and wieners will thank you!!!  

Anna Sultana’s Frittata / Flowers for Mother's Day

 

The weather hasn’t been at all Spring-like in Manitoba.
The past three weekends we had heavy snowfalls, thanks to three Colorado Lows.
The snow finally melted during the past week.
Our rhubarbs and chives appeared within minutes after the last snowflake melted. 

On Monday it was -3º C.
Today we reached 23º C.
Yesterday and today we were raking thatch from our lawn.
Nobody in Manitoba wastes a minute to be out and about when warm weather finally arrives.

Spring-like weather or not, Mother’s Day is on Sunday.

Thanks to Covid-19 most of us are out of practice when it comes to hosting gatherings and cooking elaborate dishes.
Don’t stress about tomorrow.
A nice simple frittata served with a few loaves of crusty bread will be just fine for breakfast, brunch or lunch.
It doesn’t need a crust, so it’s easier to make than a quiche is.

After the past two years simple can be all anyone can face.
If anyone gives you any funny looks I’m sure you know a few sayings that will serve nicely to put an end to any discussion of the menu.
It’s the thought that counts.
Less is more.
Most of these sayings were taught to you by dear, old Mom, who also had to put up with troublesome guests.

Gotta love tradition!


Hints:

Frittata is a very forgiving recipe.
Use any vegetables, leafy greens and cheese you have on hand.
You know what your family likes, and what is in season and on on sale.

If you’re feeding kiddies who like familiar food this would be a good way to introduce them to frittata. Just tell them it’s like macaroni and cheese.

Grease a 9-inch pie plate or an 8x8-inch baking dish

Dice
1 large tomato

Place in a bowl
1 1/2 Cups grated cheddar cheese
1 tablespoon flour
Toss to coat cheese and place in prepared plate or dish.
Sprinkle the diced tomato over the cheese.

Preheat oven to 350° F

Place in a bowl
6 eggs
1/2 Cup milk or half-and-half
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce (optional)
1 teaspoon dried basil (optional)
Beat until combined.
Pour beaten eggs evenly over the cheese.
Season with salt and pepper.
Bake for 40 minutes.


                                        Frittata

Grease a 9-inch pie plate or an 8 x 8-inch baking dish

Place in a bowl
9 eggs
1/4 Cup milk
Beat until combined.
Set aside.

Dice
1/2 medium onion

Chop
1/2 to 3/4 Cups vegetables

Preheat oven to 350° F

Place in a skillet
2 Tablespoons olive oil
Warm over medium heat.
Add
diced onion
1 teaspoon garlic powder
Cook for 3 minutes, stirring often.
Add the vegetables and cook for another 3 minutes, stirring often.
Season with salt and pepper.

Place the cooked vegetables in the prepared plate or dish.
Sprinkle on top
1 - 1 1/2 Cups grated, shredded, or crumbled cheese
Pour beaten eggs evenly over all.
Bake for 20 minutes.
Eggs should be set and firm, but not too dry.
Let sit for 10 to 15 minutes before serving with crusty bread.

                                                                   ~~~
This is a story I wrote years ago for my CKUW show ‘2000 & Counting’. I'm hoping it will remind you of a few nice memories and that it gives you a chuckle now.
Stay safe and well, everyone!


     Isn't it great.  Mother Nature has finally realized it's Spring!

     Parents in the wild weren't confused by the crazy weather we've been having.  We live in a cul de sac near farmers' fields in the north end of Winnipeg.  Geese and ducks have been making nests and babies in our local ponds.  We've been watching bush bunnies chase each other like race horses at the track.  Our kitchen has a picture window facing our garage, where we have a grapevine growing up a trellis, then continuing over wires to the window to give us some shade.  
 
     On top of the trellis, under the garage's eaves, two robins recently set up housekeeping.  Rain or shine, they knew it was time to have babies.  And, they did.  While we ate, we watched them take turns keeping the eggs warm.  A few weeks ago we saw the babies' wide open mouths over the edge of the nest.  When I went out to hang laundry, I heard the birds chirping overhead.  
     
     When you live in the 'burbs, it's almost the law to have a garden.  You know it.  Your neighbours know it.  And every store in town knows it.  So, marketing folks, ever eager to make a buck on anything - especially guilt - have hooked Mother's Day to Gardening.  In a way, it's a natural.  

     Everyone can remember proudly giving Mom a bouquet of freshly picked weeds.  Okay.  It's the thought that counts.  And, as a gift, the weeds weren't bad.  Mom could smile, plunk them into anything from a vase to an empty coffee tin, set them anywhere and everybody was happy.  Mom could ignore them until they flopped over.  Nobody cared when Mom tossed them out.  Hey, they were free weeds.
 
     The problem is, kids grow up.  They learn how to read.  They read the flyers.  They get some cash.  They get suckered.

     One large chain, whose buyers have some serious size issues, recently came out with a lawn and garden flyer.  They proudly announced, We make gardening REALLY EASY!  Uh, huh.  By this they meant they'd packed to overflowing huge planters with annuals, about which they said, and I quote, It's like adding another room to your house.

     Yippee!  Picture it.  Lugging around a kitchen chair, then climbing it to hang 'another room' from a hook you can barely see because the darn heavy thing has to be hung high enough so no one will walk into it and knock himself out cold.  Having to unhook 'the room' which is hanging a few feet above your head so you can water it.  Regularly.  Every couple of days.  Hey, what did you expect?  They're honking big flowers.  They're thirstier than sailors on shore leave.  It was your lousy gift, so there you are, hoisting something that weighs as much as a toddler over your head.  Oh, and you had just watered it.  Dirty water is running down your arm.  Happy Mother's Day.   

     Okay.  The kids meant well.  You can't return them - the kids or the flowers.  Let's grab a cold one, sit down and think this through.  

     They're just flowers in a pot.  You buy annuals in a box.  What do you do with the annuals?  Just separate them and plant them where you please.  Hose them down every so often.  No climbing or weight lifting required.

     Alrighty then.  Upend that oversized pot and do likewise to those overpacked petunias.  They'll be grateful for the breathing room.  Hey, would you like to spend a scorching Manitoba summer crammed six to a bed?  Neither do flowers.  

     But, that leaves you with an empty pot.  And even though the kids barely look you in the eye, there's still a chance they'd notice that the pot - their gift - is now empty.  No problem.  Can you say Dollar Store?  Just waltz in and buy any flowers you like.  Think you have to get the same flowers?  Get real.  How much do you notice the uniqueness of each potato in a twenty pound sack?  The kids bought those flowers by the basket, 25 bucks each, two for 40.  They shopped with friends and had a few bucks left for snacks.  All they noticed was that the baskets were heavy.  

     Get whatever you like.  Um... on second thought, try to stay with the season.  I have a friend who loves Christmas.  She packed her pot with flaming red poinsettias.  Even her kids thought there was something odd about their Mom's pot.  She just smiled, hugged them and gave them a cookie.  A store bought cookie.  It worked.  

     While you're at it, get some fake flowers for the yard, especially for those dark, hard to grow areas and window boxes.  I got a lovely assortment of blue, white and orange flowers for our yard.  Mama Robin ignored me as I placed some flowers in a large pot under our chokecherry.  She chirped as I inserted some into my kitchen window's flower box.  

     Then I tried to hook a few onto the trellis under her nest.  Mama Robin flew onto our neighbour's roof, to watch me beautifying her neighbourhood.  Then she started screeching like a banshee.  I glanced up just in time to see her act like a kamikazi pilot, talons aimed straight at me.  I ducked and ran.  The grapevine can stay flowerless until her kids have flown the nest.            

     Ah, the circle of life!  Ah, Nature!  Ah, crap!

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 400º 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 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.

Anna Sultana’s Chicken Marsala / Christmas Traditions & Baking / The Great Conjunction

It’s less than a week before we’ll be celebrating a very unique Christmas.
Yes. CELEBRATING.
It’s been a hard year, but here we are. 

We’ve made it! So celebrate. Safely.

The week is off to a unique beginning.
The Winter Solstice on December 21 marks the beginning of winter in the Northern Hemisphere and is the day with the fewest hours of daylight in the entire year.
If you’re getting tired of T. V. shows - yes, one can only take so much streaming - Mother Nature will be giving us a special show on Monday night: Jupiter and Saturn will be forming a Great Conjunction.
These planets come together every 20 or so years (the last conjunction was in 2020), but this will be the closest they've been together since 1623, just 14 years after Galileo made his own telescope.
In 1614 the German astronomer, Johannes Kepler, suggested that a similar conjunction - involving different planets - occurring in the year 7 B.C. may be what the Three Wise Men in the Christmas Story called the Star of Bethlehem.

On Monday night, about 30 minutes minutes after sunset, try to have a clear view of the southwestern horizon.
The planets will be pretty low in the sky and will remain visible for about an hour.
This is the only time you’ll be able to see the conjunction. Really. On Tuesday the planets will be further apart.
Astronomers say there won't be another Great Conjunction this close until 2080.
Hope it will be a cloudless night for everyone.


Now about a Christmas dinner…
Most families will be celebrating apart, so a traditional turkey dinner might be a bit too much.
Why not try something a little different to finish off a year that has been very different.
In February, 2013 I posted this recipe for Carmela Soprano's Veal Scaloppine Marsala with Risotto, a recipe for two.
Of course, Ma’s recipe is a little different.

I wish you a very Merry Christmas!


Hints:

If you’d like a thicker sauce place the flour left over from dredging the breasts into a small bowl, stir in some of the wine mixture, then stir it into the sauce in the skillet.

The parsley and a squeeze of lemon tones down sweet Marsala’s sweetness.

Don’t usually buy Marsala and not sure what it is?
Marsala is a combination of wine and a distilled spirit, such as brandy, and is similar to Madeira or sherry in flavour.
Marsala comes in both sweet and dry varieties, and either will be fine for this recipe.
For future purchases, to use sweet Marsala for sweet dishes, such as tiramisu or Zabaglione, and dry Marsala for savoury dishes.
Whichever you buy, the Marsala won’t go to waste.
Zabaglione would be a delicious dessert on New Year’s Eve.
Just buy a good quality bottle of Marsala and toast the New Year!

If you’re just cooking for two don’t worry about making four servings.
You can store leftovers in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to four days.


                       Chicken Marsala

Serves 4

Place the rack in the middle of the oven.
Heat to 200° F

Trim and quarter
8 ounces cremini mushrooms

Mince
2 cloves garlic

One at a time, place between 2 sheets of plastic wrap or in a heavy zip-top bag
4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
Using the flat side of a meat mallet or a heavy plate or rolling pin, pound each breast gently into even pieces, about 1/4-inch thick.
Set aside and repeat with the remaining breasts.

On a plate-sized piece of waxed paper spread
1/2 Cup flour
Sprinkle over the flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
Dredge the breasts in the flour mixture (add more flour if needed).
Set aside.

In a large skillet melt together over medium-high heat
3 Tablespoons olive oil
2 Tablespoons unsalted butter
Add 2 of the chicken breasts.
Fry until golden-brown on both sides, 3 to 4 minutes per side.
Remove the browned chicken to a baking dish or rimmed baking sheet.
Repeat with the remaining 2 chicken breasts. 
Cover the chicken with aluminum foil and place in the oven to keep warm.

In the same large skillet melt over medium-high heat
2 Tablespoons unsalted butter
Add the quartered mushrooms and cook about 3 minutes.
Add the minced garlic and cook about 1 minute.
Add
3/4 Cup dry Marsala wine 
Scrape the bottom of the pan to remove the browned pieces.
Add
3/4 Cup low-sodium chicken broth
Simmer until reduced by half and starting to thicken, about 15 minutes.
Add
1/4 cup heavy cream
Return the chicken to the sauce.
Cook until the sauce thickens about 3 to 5 minutes.
Serve hot over cooked pasta. Angel hair pasta is nice.
Garnish with chopped parsley and lemon wedges.
A nice salad completes the meal.


~~~
I also wrote the following essay about Christmas traditions for our CKUW radio show ‘2000 & Counting’. Over the years our listeners asked for some seasonal stories to be repeated.
They seemed to like being reminded that we were all in the same holiday boat, a communal ship which made us feel like we were all sinking fast.
Ah… Christmas shopping, holiday baking and holiday customs…

I don't know about you, but as far as I'm concerned, there are two questions no one should ever ask a woman.

The first is "How old are you?"
The second is "Have you done your holiday baking yet?”

Why is it that, when the thermometer falls, we're supposed to bake? 
Does the Queen whip up a fruitcake before writing her speech?
I don't think so.  

Holiday baking has been with us an awfully long time.
Did you know that ginger was popular in Greece over 5,000 years ago? The Egyptians were eating gingerbread when the great pyramid of Cheops was just a brick and a prayer. I wonder what their gingerbread men looked like.

A few years after Egypt's building boom, an English King and his hunting party got lost in a blizzard on Christmas Eve.  Well, they were clever lads full of English pluck, so they threw everything they had - meat, flour, sugar, apples, ale and brandy - into a bag and cooked it. Wallah!!  Plum pudding. The Iron Chef would've been proud.  

On Christmas Day in 1666, Samuel Pepys wrote in his diary that he had risen earlier than his wife Who was desirous to sleep having sat up till four this morning seeing her maids make mince pies. 
I really admire Mrs. P. She just sat and watched her maids do the work, yet her husband felt guilty about her workload. How did she get him to suffer like that?   

Some Christmas carols seem a little too focused on food.  For example:
     “Now bring us some figgy pudding and a cup of good cheer!
     We won't go until we get some, so bring it out here.”
Those were somebody's friends?  Somebody should've called the cops.


Holiday baking has followed us into modern times. The 1970s was the decade of old time family television shows like The Waltons and memoir books.
Have you ever browsed through a memoir book? It could make you weep. They reminded us of times like this...

“Evenings when a cold blustery wind howled outside were perfect for sorting through recipes. They were cozy times. The children were sitting at the oak table helping Mama chop fruit and raisins. Papa was cracking and shelling nuts and crushing fresh spices in the grinder.”

Isn't that sweet? Sentences like that convinced me that if we did things just like people did before television was invented, the world would be a kinder, gentler place.

We'll never know. Paul told me, in no uncertain terms, that he was too busy to grind nuts for a cake he didn't even want.
Alright. Scratch Paul grinding his nuts. I bought ground nuts.

Step two... the batter had to be mixed. Back to that memoir...
“When all the fruits were in, Grandmother called, 'Come, stir the batter!'
We all took turns giving it a stir - clockwise for good luck - and made a wish."

I made a batter, threw in the fruits and called out, "Come, stir the batter!"

Carl pointed to the electric mixer sitting on the counter and said that he was staying on the eighth level of his computer game, The Temple of Ra. He also told me, in no uncertain terms, that he was too busy to stir batter for a cake he didn't even want.

I stirred the batter, clockwise.
Don't ask what I wished.


It's been downhill ever since. Do you know about the charming Swedish custom of hiding a whole almond in a serving bowl of rice pudding? The lucky person who finds the almond has to get married or do the dishes. Either my husband or my son - the fink never confessed - managed to swallow the almond every time.

I tried the German version - whoever finds the almond receives a marzipan pig. By then Paul and Carl had their own tradition: swallowing the almond. I felt so guilty looking at that poor rejected pig.
I started my own tradition and ate him... along with the cake.

There's a Christmas carol that goes: "Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat..."
Well, the goose isn't the only one.