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 Zuppa Inglese and Zabaione with Berries / Would Santa Ever Find Me? by Margaret Ullrich

 

Five days until Christmas!
We’ve had over a month of baking - and eating - platters of traditional breads, cakes, cookies and pies.
Time to enjoy something a little less starchy.
A bit of alcohol would be a good idea, too.

The name of the Neopolitan Trifle, Zuppa Inglese, translates into 'English Soup'.
The original recipe called for Alchermes, an Italian liqueur. It was prepared by infusing spirits with sugar, cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, herbs, vanilla, and other flavouring agents. Its scarlet colour came from the addition of cochineal.

Some say the name is a little joke to tease the English about their love of rum.
It was first served to Lord Nelson and Lady Hamilton in the 18th century and there was so much rum in it that it had to be eaten with a soup spoon.
It’s a good idea to eat it with a spoon in the twenty-first century, too.

Zabaione is an Italian dessert made with eggs, sugar and Marsala wine.
It was invented in the 16th Century in the Medici court in Florence, Italy. It is classified as a sauce, and was used to fill pies and tarts. It is not a custard because it does not have milk or cream in it.
It is usually served warm, though it can be served cold, as a sauce, or even frozen.

Hints:

About the Zabaione with Berries…
You can substitute any other sweet wines that you prefer, or have on hand. Try sherry, port, Madeira, Moscato d'Asti, or Grand Marnier.
If you prefer your Zabaione sweeter you can add more sugar, a tablespoonful at a time.

The bottom of the bowl should not touch the water.
Zabaione needs constant whisking, so that it doesn't overcook or curdle.

Whipped cream can be added to the cooled Zabaione and gently folded together.

It can be served with fruit, such as canned or baked peaches, or between cake layers, or on chocolate pudding, or to fill cream puffs.



                        Zuppa Inglese

Combine in a small bowl
2 1/2 ounces cocoa
1 1/2 ounces sugar

Place in a small pot
1 ounce milk
Heat to boiling, then remove from heat and slowly add
the cocoa / sugar mixture
Blend together and let cool.

Peel the zest from
1 lemon

Combine in a medium pot
3 Cups lukewarm milk
1 teaspoon vanilla

Place in a large pot
5 large egg yolks
5 ounces sugar
Beat together until well blended and slowly add
3 1/2 ounces flour
Add
the lemon peel
the milk / vanilla mixture
Put the pan on the stove and cook over medium heat.
Stir continuously until the ingredients reach the boiling point.
Reduce heat and cook, stirring constantly, for 5 minutes.
Remove the pot from the stove and let it cool.
Stir occasionally and remove the lemon peel. Let cool.

Have on hand
7 ounces lady fingers, approximately
1 Cup rum
1 Cup maraschino

Dip a lady finger on one side in rum and the other in maraschino and place in a deep glass flat-bottomed bowl.
Repeat with enough lady fingers to make a layer on the bottom of the bowl.
Add a layer of chocolate and a layer of the sugar / egg mixture.
Repeat the layering process.
Garnish the top with whipped cream and shaved chocolate.


                        Zabaione with Berries

Place in a bowl that fits in a double boiler
6 large egg yolks
1/3 Cup sugar
Add
1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest (optional)
1/8 teaspoon vanilla
3/4 Cup Marsala



Fill the pot of a double boiler halfway with water.
Over medium heat bring the water to a simmer.
Reduce the heat to maintain a gentle simmer.
Set the bowl containing the custard mixture over the water. 


Whisk the mixture for 10 to 15 minutes, until the mixture triples in volume and becomes pale. 
Longer cooking will thicken the Zabaione, giving it the texture of a mousse. When it reaches the desired consistency, take the container out of the pot of water.
Pour it into a serving bowl and serve warm.

If you want to serve it cool, set it aside for about 15 minutes.
Ladle the Zabaione into individual dishes and serve with whipped cream, berries, and / or cookies, such as biscotti.


                                                            ~~~
In 2004 I wrote this story and read it on our CKUW radio show '2000 & Counting - Older & Wiser'. For a few years it was an annual tradition for ‘2000 & Counting’ and for ‘Better Than Chocolate’. I got a few e mails asking if I could post the original story.
Here it is… Merry Christmas!

Change follows us from the cradle to the grave. When I was five years old I was hit with a megadose of change - I moved to another town, got a baby sister, got to go to kindergarten and got Santa Claus.
    
Five years earlier my parents and I had emigrated from Malta to New York and settled in Corona. We didn't have much choice. Five of Pop's brothers and sisters lived in Corona. So, we had to live in Corona, too. 
    
Corona was a little slice of Italy on Long Island. The store clerks were bilingual: English and Italian. The grocery stores in Corona were stocked with Italian necessities. Almost everything in all the other stores had been imported from Italy. 
Corona was where we learned how to be Americans. 
    
Nonni's children, Betty and Angelo, had married two of Pop's siblings, Joe and Helen. So, Nonni was a double Grandma in my family. Since all my grandparents were in Malta, Nonni treated me as a grandchild, too.     
    
Every Christmas Eve we gathered at Uncle Joe and Aunt Betty's home. A whole corner of their living room was filled with Nonni's manger scene. It was not just a shed with Mary, Joseph, three kings and one shepherd standing around Baby Jesus. Nonni had a complete village with houses, trees, hills, paths, ponds and animals. There were people walking around just minding their own business. Some of the figures were really old and we couldn't play with them. But each year Nonni added something new: a woman carrying a basket of eggs, a farmer carrying a head of cabbage, a man carrying a bundle of wood. Nonni’s manger scene was better than any store window on 5th Avenue in Manhattan.
    
Dinner was a feast. Fish was traditional - eel for the parents, bluefish for the children. There was also soup, pasta and vegetables, followed by ricotta pie, anise biscotti, pizzelle and cuccidati cookies, strufoli, creamy roasted chestnuts and torrone candy. My favourite was the huge golden mound of strufoli: tiny doughnut balls covered with honey and multi-coloured sprinkles. After dinner we played games and our parents talked until it was time to walk to the Midnight Mass at St. Leo's. After Mass we returned to Uncle Joe's for some panettone, a holiday bread made with butter, raisins, almonds and citron.

Then Nonni would tell us to look at the manger scene for the surprise. The blessed Bambino, Baby Jesus, had suddenly appeared!
    
Christmas Eve was a wonderful night. But the big day for us children was January sixth. The night before we had hung our stockings and waited for La Befana to bring us toys. 
    

For those unfamiliar with the story, La Befana was a little old lady who had been sweeping her house when the Wise Men knocked on her door. They were looking for Baby Jesus and asked La Befana for directions. They then invited La Befana to join them. The old woman refused, saying she had work to do.
    
When it was dark, a great light and angels appeared in the sky. La Befana realized that the Wise Men weren't kidding about somebody special being born that night. Broom in hand, La Befana tried to catch up with the Wise Men. She never found them or Baby Jesus. Every year she searches for Baby Jesus and leaves presents for good little boys and girls. 
    

La Befana took care of me for four years. Then we moved to College Point so we could live closer to Lily Tulip where Pop worked. Then it was time for my sister to be born. While Ma was in the hospital I stayed with Aunt Betty, Uncle Joe and their daughters, MaryAnn and Carol Lynn. It was nice living in Corona again. The next day, Nonni diNoto took me to the local 5 and 10 and gave me a quarter.      
"Buy for sister."       
I didn't have any idea what a baby sister would want. I liked westerns, so I grabbed a toy gun.      
"No. Buy a rattle."    
A rattle? That sounded boring, but I bought a pink plastic rattle. 
    
In those days children were not allowed to visit anyone in the hospital. When Aunt Betty visited Ma, she gave the rattle to my new sister. I waited outside the hospital and waved to the window of Ma's room. When Aunt Betty returned she had a gift from my new sister for me: three pieces of chocolate. 
    
Well, wasn't that nice of her. Not as nice as a toy gun, but maybe that was all she could get from where she'd been.   
    

After Rose was born we didn't go to Corona as often. It was easier to walk to the local church instead of driving to St. Leo's. I missed seeing my family. 
    
That September I started kindergarten in St. Fidelis School. Some of the good sisters had wanted to travel and meet exotic heathens in far away places. Well, they almost got their wish. I was the first Maltese child they'd ever seen. College Point had been settled by Irish and German families. It was time for me to learn about America through their eyes. 
    
As Christmas approached, the windows of the German bakeries were filled with the most beautiful cookies I'd ever seen. They were in all kinds of shapes: stars, angels, animals and wreaths. They were decorated with coconut, jam, icing and tiny silver balls. Some of my classmates brought in samples of their mothers' baking. I brought some biscotti. My friends were polite and tasted the dry, double-baked bread. Then we ate the lebkuchen, pfeffernuesse, zimtsterne, and jam filled spitzbuben. The stollen reminded me of panettone. I thought a German Christmas was delicious. I planned to eat German and Italian holiday food every Christmas for the rest of my life.

We helped Sister decorate the Christmas tree with sugar cookies which had been twisted into figure eights. Then Sister told us to gather around her. She was going to read us a story. Sister showed us the picture of Santa Claus and his eight reindeer. My friends were delighted.
    
I was confused. 
    
I had never heard any of this before. Santa was supposed to slide down a chimney and land in a fireplace. We didn't have a fireplace. We had a huge, oil-burning furnace in the basement. Ma hung our stockings, along with all the other wet laundry, on a clothesline near the furnace. It made awful noises and had fire in it. If Santa landed in it he'd fry like a strufoli. That would end Christmas forever. I didn't think Santa would take such a risk for a total stranger. The lovely cookies felt like lead in my stomach.
    
Sister talked about Santa checking his list of good little girls and boys. Santa had a list? I knew we were on the Registered Aliens list. Every January the TV reminded Ma to fill out green cards so we wouldn't go to jail or Malta. How could I get on Santa's list? Could Santa get my name from the Aliens list? Did I need to fill out another card? 
    
The afternoon went from bad to worse. Sister told us we could put our letters to Santa in the special mailbox in the classroom. A letter? What language did Santa speak? He'd never heard from me. I wasn't on his list. What could I say? 
    
"Hi, you don't know me, but I'd like some toys." I'd never written a letter to La Befana. She just gave me toys. Would Santa shoot La Befana if she came to College Point? Oh, boy… I was in big trouble.    
    
In kindergarten we learned about God the Father, about how we should pray to Him and tell Him what we needed. I didn't need another Father. I figured if my Pop was always busy working, this guy who took care of everything in the whole wide world would really never have time for me.
    
I needed a Grandma.
    
The next time we went to Corona I told Nonni about Santa Claus and that he was in charge of Christmas in College Point. Nonni listened patiently as I explained the rules.
    
She repeated the main points, "Santa Claus. A letter."     
I nodded.    
"I fix. I write letter to Befana. She give to Santa. No hard feelings. Christmas come."
    
I had my doubts. Nonni had never been to College Point. Maybe nobody ever had to change from La Befana to Santa Claus. Maybe Christmas was lost forever, like some of the packages we never got from Malta.
    
On Christmas Eve we all gathered at Uncle Joe and Aunt Betty's home in Corona. We had the Christmas Eve dinner. Then we went to St. Leo's for the Midnight Mass. Everything was familiar. Latin and Italian. Why couldn't we have stayed there? 
    
When we were leaving the church I saw a pale cloud in the sky. It looked long and thin, with a sort of lump on one end. For a moment I thought it looked like Santa and his sleigh with eight tiny reindeer. I kept looking at that cloud. It followed us from the church to Uncle Joe's house, where we had panettone. When we left, the cloud was still there. I watched from the car. The cloud followed us from Corona to College Point. 
    
I never noticed clouds before. Did clouds always follow people from one town to another? Was it really a cloud? Sister had told us that Santa had millions of helpers, tiny people called elves. Could it have been an elf picking up the letter from La Befana?
    
Christmas morning, Pop was eating breakfast while Ma was cleaning Rose. Ma sent me to the basement to get some dry diapers that were hanging by the furnace. Being a big sister wasn't much fun. I pulled down two diapers. Then I noticed some lumps by the furnace. I thought some clothes had fallen off the line. I walked toward the furnace. 
    
But the lumps weren't clothes. 
They were boxes. 
They were wrapped. 
They were presents! 
They were for me!!

Santa had found me.

Anna Sultana's Ricotta Cheesecake and Cannoli Cheesecake (Baked and No-Bake) / Muriel’s Family Christmas by Margaret Ullrich

Thanks to a huge Colorado Low we folks in Winnipeg have been having our first major snow storm of the season.
And we’re not finished shovelling.
We’re supposed to get more snow during the next two days.
When it comes to Winnipeggers getting exercise in winter, who needs to join a gym?


It’s been a while since I posted a recipe for the no-fail edible tranquilizer, a cheesecake.
In honour of the holiday season, and all its stresses, I’m posting three recipes!

The Ricotta Cheesecake is nice and light and the recipe is pretty simple.
Don’t be confused about the Cannoli cheesecakes.
Many of you know that Cannoli is an Italian pastry made of fried pastry dough tubes, ranging in size from 3 to 8 inches, and filled with ricotta and chocolate bits.
You won’t be expected to deep fry or stuff anything for the Cannoli Cheesecakes.
They are just ricotta cheesecakes with a bit of chocolate.

Ah… cheesecake and chocolate!
Don’t you feel calmer just thinking about that?


Hints:

About the Ricotta Cheesecake and No-Bake Cannoli Cheesecake…
If you have a package of graham cracker crumbs, you could use their recipe for the crust.

Don’t have mini chocolate chips? Don’t make an extra trip to the store.
Just use what you have. You could even chop finely a chocolate bar, or two.

About the Cannoli Cheesecake…
If you don’t have a box of cannoli shells you can use any cookies you like or have already.


                        Ricotta Cheesecake

Generously grease a springform pan with butter.

Melt
1/2 Cup butter

Place in medium bowl and crush
18 graham crackers
Stir in the melted butter.
Firmly press the graham cracker mixture into the bottom and along the sides of the springform pan, then set aside.

Sift together into a small bowl
1/3 Cup flour
1 Cup sugar

Place in a medium bowl
4 Cups ricotta cheese
1/2 teaspoons orange extract
Stir together, then slowly fold in the flour mixture until well blended and smooth.

Preheat oven to 325º F

Add, one at a time
6 large eggs
Continuing to blend after each addition.
Stir in
1 teaspoon vanilla

Pour cheese mixture into the graham crust and gently smooth top with a spatula.       
Bake 60 to 70 minutes, until cake is firm throughout the centre.  
Remove pan from oven and let sit on counter 2 hours.
Refrigerate for 2 to 3 hours.
Run a knife around to loosen the cake before removing the outer part of pan.
Generously dust the cheesecake with sifted confectioners’ sugar.
Store leftovers in refrigerator.


                        Cannoli Cheesecake

Line a 9 inch springform pan with parchment.

Crush
7 ounce package cannoli shells
Stir in
3 Tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
2 Tablespoons sugar
Press crumbs firmly onto bottom of pan.
Bake 10 minutes, then let cool.

Place in a large mixer bowl
4 Cups ricotta cheese
1 1/2 Cups sugar
1/4 Cup flour
Beat on medium speed until well blended.
Add
1/2 Cup heavy cream
2 teaspoons vanilla
1/2 teaspoon orange extract
Mix well.

Preheat oven to 350º F

Add, 1 at a time
5 large eggs
After each addition mix just until blended.
Pour cheese mixture over the crust.
Bake for 1 hour and 15 minutes.
Remove from oven and sprinkle over top
1/3 Cup mini chocolate chips
Press chips in lightly.
Continue to bake 10 more minutes, until centre is almost set.
Remove from oven and let sit on counter 2 hours.
Refrigerate for 2 to 3 hours.
Run a knife around to loosen the cake before removing the outer part of pan.

Before serving sprinkle with
1/4 Cup confectioners’ sugar
Top with whipped cream, if desired.
Store leftovers in refrigerator.


                        No-Bake Cannoli Cheesecake

Generously grease a springform pan with butter.

Melt
1/2 Cup butter

Place in medium bowl and crush
18 graham crackers
Stir in the melted butter.
Firmly press the graham cracker mixture into the bottom and along the sides of the springform pan, then set aside.

Place in a large mixer bowl
16 ounces cream cheese, softened at room temperature
Beat cream cheese until fluffy.
Add
1 1/2 Cups heavy cream
Beat until fluffy, then add
1 Cup ricotta
2/3 Cup confectioners’ sugar
Beat until fluffy.
Stir in
2 teaspoons lemon extract
2 teaspoons vanilla
2 teaspoons ground nutmeg
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
Fold in
1 Cup mini chocolate chips
Pour cheese mixture into graham crust and gently smooth top with spatula.
Top with
1/2 Cup mini chocolate chips
1 Cup crushed cannoli shells, for garnish (optional)
Freeze until firm, at least 3 hours.
Let soften 15 minutes before serving, then slice.
Run a knife around to loosen the cake before removing the outer part of pan.
Store leftovers in the freezer or refrigerator.

                                                       ~~~
This was a holiday piece I wrote a few years ago for the CKUW radio show ‘2000 & Counting’ when we decided to chat about family holiday dinners. 
Being politically correct - and politically sensitive - was just starting around the turn of the century.
It was and is still a part of menu planning.

The family that eats a holiday dinner together… can still be in for a whole lot of trouble.


My friend Muriel still hasn't recovered from last Christmas.

The poor dear had tried to please everybody. Solomon couldn't have pulled that off. Muriel was willing to go with the flow, but she was caught in a tsunami. Her husband Tom is a simple man with simple tastes. He just wanted a roasted bird with stuffing and cranberry sauce.

He should never have had children.

Their eldest daughter, Donna, keeps up with trends. Muriel had asked Donna to bring the appetizers. Muriel expected their traditional celery sticks with cream cheese, crackers and cheese cubes. Donna waltzed in with an oriental party pack and assorted seafood and chicken wing platters. Something for everyone. Uh, huh.
Tom backed off when he saw the egg rolls. "I don't like Chinese."
Donna said, "I got you BBQ chicken wings."
Ignoring her, Tom said, "They don't serve bread." He went to the kitchen for bread.


Then Betty arrived. Betty lives in a commune and supports the rights of everything and everybody… except those of the hostess. Betty always carried tofu because she never ate dairy products or anything with eyes or eggs. Muriel had prepared a nice salad for Betty. Not good enough.
"Were the pickers paid a decent wage?"
"The lettuce had a union label."
"I only eat organically grown food. Did they use manure."
"We had to scrub the carrots with bleach to get the E coli off."
"Oh... okay."
Tom heard E coli and reached for another slice of bread.


Finally their son Bill arrived with his wife Carol and their children, Krystal and Jason. Bill and Carol had every allergy in the book. Bill also had high cholesterol and Carol had her waistline. They avoided the platters of appetizers and drank the water that they had brought.

Krystal, a tender-hearted child, burst into tears when she saw the chicken wings.
"Oh, those poor birdies. Do you know how they treat chickens, Grandma?"

Muriel figured the birds were better off than she was. They never had to make a holiday dinner for the family. But this was her granddaughter.
"Krystal, dear, these birdies lived in a happy place where they laughed and played and sang songs for a long, long time. Then one day they just went to sleep and, just like butterflies, they turned into chicken wings."
"Oh... okay."
Who says the next generation knows it all?
Tom heard Muriel's tale of the laughing, singing chickens, figured she'd finally lost it, and ate more bread.

Ignored by his elders, Jason gobbled a fistful of seafood appetizers and started wheezing. Muriel packed away the appetizers before her children could start a food fight and led them to the main event.


The table looked like a sailboat regatta that had been designed by Martha Stewart. Every dish had a tiny flag listing all of the ingredients. Muriel did not want to have to call the paramedics again. Krystal cried when she saw the turkey.

When Betty reached for the potatoes, Bill said, "But they have eyes". Betty meant to kick her brother, but got her sister-in-law, Carol, who screamed and kicked back. Muriel yelled at her kids. The holiday dinner was just like always. Damn.

After everyone had eaten what they could, Muriel brought out a carafe of hot cranberry apple cider. This was her gift to herself. Seeing all the different coffees at the supermarket had made her go all whoozie. Whatever happened to plain old coffee, black or with cream? Muriel’s children didn't say a word while visions of cappuccinos, espressos and lattes danced in their heads.

Betty was in charge of the dessert. She had created something that was just what the doctor ordered. No eggs, no cream, no butter, and no taste.
Tom just saw a pumpkin pie and it looked fine. He helped himself to a slice, smiled and thought that Betty was returning to the food of her mother.

But, something tasted... off. Maybe a new spice?
"Betty, what's in this pie," he asked.
"Tofu."
"Geez." Tom reached for the bread.

Jason had wheezed throughout the whole meal.
All in all, it had been just another family holiday get together.


God help Muriel. The holidays are back.

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 Lemon Berry Pavlova / Would Santa Ever Find Me? by Margaret Ullrich

      Happy Holidays, everyone.
Wishing you all the blessings of the season:
a Christmas filled with all you hold dear
and a New Year filled with all the best!
~ Margaret

Okay… we’ve been told to cut back on our socializing so we can ‘starve’ Omicron.
But that doesn’t mean we have to starve ourselves.

If the sight of the fruitcake will just remind you of how different this Christmas is going to be compared to what you had planned, well, then, it’s time to make something different that doesn’t have all the memories baggage.
Let the fruitcake age for another year.
 
Pavlova is something a little different for many, but it looks like you’re saying
Damn it all, we’re going to celebrate!
Pavlova is a large round meringue base which has a crispy, crunchy crust on the outside and a soft, sticky centre.
The centre is filled with fruit curd or yogurt or whipped cream or ice cream, and can be topped with fruit. 


Hints:

About the meringue…
Since plastic absorbs oil, avoid using a plastic bowl.
Consider wiping the bowl with white vinegar, rise and dry thoroughly.
If your bowl is even a little wet or has a trace of oil the whites won't aerate properly and the pavlova will sink in the middle like an omelet. Not good.

Avoid letting any egg yolk into the whites as a drop of yolk can also deflate it.

If you don’t want to make the curd, then you won’t need egg yolks.
Packaged egg whites is perfect for pavlova.
For substituting:
1 large egg white is 1 fluid oz = 2 tablespoons
2 large egg whites = 1/4 Cup
For this recipe you’ll need
4 large egg whites = 1/2 Cup

Just so you know:
1 Large Egg Yolk = 1 tablespoon
Two egg whites, or 1/4 cup fat-free egg substitute, can replace 1 whole egg

If you over-beat the egg whites it will not expand as much in the oven.
If the whites start to look lumpy instead of glossy and smooth, they’re over-beaten.

Some think you get a better meringue if you whisk it by hand.
You can use an electric mixer to make the meringue.
The main rule is to work quickly.
After you stop beating, try to get it in the oven within 5 minutes.

Meringue expands in the oven, so build the meringue upward, not outward.
Meringue has a tendency to crack, especially from shifts in temperature.
Avoid an abrupt temperature change by letting the meringue cool in the oven.
You’ll most likely get some cracks, but that's okay.


About the Lemon Curd Filling…
Use a rubber spatula to stir the filling as it cooks so you don't aerate the mixture.
You can pass the filling through a strainer if you want, but it's not necessary.


About the Blueberry Sauce…
After you’ve removed it from the heat you can pass it through a fine mesh strainer.
The fresh fruit is lumpy, too, so I don’t think it’s worth the bother.





                                                               Lemon Blueberry Pavlova
6 servings

Lemon Curd Filling

Cut into small pieces
1/2 Cup unsalted butter
Set aside.

Separate the eggs, placing the yolks in a heat-proof bowl that will fit in a saucepan, and the whites in a large mixer bowl.
4 large eggs
Cover the egg whites and set them aside to let them come to room temperature.

Add to egg yolks
2 Tablespoons lemon zest
1 pinch salt
1/2 Cup white sugar
1/4 Cup lemon juice
Beat until thoroughly combined.

Place 2 inches of water in a saucepan.
Bring to a simmer over low heat.
Place the heat-proof bowl of filling over the simmering water.
Cook, stirring, until the mixture is thick enough to coat a spoon, 10 to 15 minutes.


Stir in butter, 3 or 4 pieces at a time, waiting until butter has melted before adding more.
Remove bowl from heat and pour the filling into another bowl to cool, about 15 minutes.
Place a piece of plastic wrap on top of the filling, pressing down so that it doesn't develop a skin, and place the bowl in the refrigerator for 2 to 3 hours.


Meringue

Line a baking sheet with a silicone liner or parchment paper
Lightly spray with cooking spray

Place in small bowl
1 Cup white sugar
1 Tablespoon cornstarch
Mix and set aside.

With a large whisk, beat the reserved egg whites.
Continue until frothy, then add
1 pinch cream of tartar
2 teaspoons lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
Whisk until very soft peaks form, about 3 minutes.
Whisk in sugar mixture, 2 tablespoons at a time, whisking about 1 minute between each addition, until all the sugar has been added.
Continue to whisk until stiff peaks form and the whites can hold their shape.

Preheat the oven to 250º F 


Spoon the whites onto the prepared baking sheet, forming a circle about 8 or 9 inches across, then add more meringue around the edges to form a bowl shape.


Bake in the centre of the preheated oven for 1 hour, then turn off the oven and slightly open the door and leave it open.
Let the meringue sit in the oven until it is cooled completely, about 1 hour.


Blueberry Sauce

Place in a saucepan
1 Cup blueberries
2 Tablespoons white sugar
1/2 Cup cold water
Cook over medium heat and bring to a simmer.
Cook, stirring occasionally, until the liquid thickens, about 10 minutes.
Remove from heat and place in the refrigerator until fully chilled, about 45 minutes.


Carefully transfer the cooled meringue to a serving platter.
Fill the centre with the chilled lemon curd filling.
Place over the curd
1/2 Cup or more fresh blueberries, or mixed berries

Drizzle blueberry sauce over each serving 
Garnish with fresh mint (optional)

                                                            ~~~
In 2004 I wrote this story and read it on our CKUW radio show '2000 & Counting - Older & Wiser'. For a few years it was our annual tradition. 
I got a few e mails asking if I could post the original story.
Here it is… Merry Christmas!

Change follows us from the cradle to the grave. When I was five years old I was hit with a megadose of change - I moved to another town, got a baby sister, got to go to kindergarten and got Santa Claus.
     
Five years earlier my parents and I had emigrated from Malta to New York and settled in Corona.  We didn't have much choice.  Five of Pop's brothers and sisters lived in Corona. So, we had to live in Corona, too.  
     
Corona was a little slice of Italy on Long Island.  The store clerks were bilingual: English and Italian.  The grocery stores in Corona were stocked with Italian necessities.  Almost everything in all the other stores had been imported from Italy.  
Corona was where we learned how to be Americans.  
     
Nonni's children, Betty and Angelo, had married two of Pop's siblings, Joe and Helen.  So, Nonni was a double Grandma in my family.  Since all my grandparents were in Malta, Nonni treated me as a grandchild, too.      
     
Every Christmas Eve we gathered at Uncle Joe and Aunt Betty's home.  A whole corner of their living room was filled with Nonni's manger scene.  It was not just a shed with Mary, Joseph, three kings and one shepherd standing around Baby Jesus.  Nonni had a complete village with houses, trees, hills, paths, ponds and animals.  There were people walking around just minding their own business.  Some of the figures were really old and we couldn't play with them.  But each year Nonni added something new: a woman carrying a basket of eggs, a farmer carrying a head of cabbage, a man carrying a bundle of wood.  Nonni’s manger scene was better than any store window on 5th Avenue in Manhattan.
     
Dinner was a feast.  Fish was traditional - eel for the parents, bluefish for the children.  There was also soup, pasta and vegetables, followed by ricotta pie, anise biscotti, pizzelle and cuccidati cookies, strufoli, creamy roasted chestnuts and torrone candy.  My favourite was the huge golden mound of strufoli: tiny doughnut balls covered with honey and multi-coloured sprinkles.  After dinner we played games and our parents talked until it was time to walk to the Midnight Mass at St. Leo's.  After Mass we returned to Uncle Joe's for some panettone, a holiday bread made with butter, raisins, almonds and citron.

Then Nonni would tell us to look at the manger scene for the surprise.  The blessed Bambino, Baby Jesus, had suddenly appeared!
     
Christmas Eve was a wonderful night.  But the big day for us children was January sixth.  The night before we had hung our stockings and waited for La Befana to bring us toys.  
     

For those unfamiliar with the story, La Befana was a little old lady who had been sweeping her house when the Wise Men knocked on her door.  They were looking for Baby Jesus and asked La Befana for directions.  They then invited La Befana to join them.  The old woman refused, saying she had work to do.
     
When it was dark, a great light and angels appeared in the sky.  La Befana realized that the Wise Men weren't kidding about somebody special being born that night.  Broom in hand, La Befana tried to catch up with the Wise Men.  She never found them or Baby Jesus.  Every year she searches for Baby Jesus and leaves presents for good little boys and girls.  
     

La Befana took care of me for four years.  Then we moved to College Point so we could live closer to Lily Tulip where Pop worked.  Then it was time for my sister to be born.  While Ma was in the hospital I stayed with Aunt Betty, Uncle Joe and their daughters, MaryAnn and Carol Lynn.  It was nice living in Corona again.  The next day, Nonni diNoto took me to the local 5 and 10 and gave me a quarter.      
"Buy for sister."       
I didn't have any idea what a baby sister would want.  I liked westerns, so I grabbed a toy gun.      
"No.  Buy a rattle."    
A rattle?  That sounded boring, but I bought a pink plastic rattle.  
     
In those days children were not allowed to visit anyone in the hospital.  When Aunt Betty visited Ma, she gave the rattle to my new sister.  I waited outside the hospital and waved to the window of Ma's room.  When Aunt Betty returned she had a gift from my new sister for me: three pieces of chocolate.  
     
Well, wasn't that nice of her.  Not as nice as a toy gun, but maybe that was all she could get from where she'd been.    
     

After Rose was born we didn't go to Corona as often.  It was easier to walk to the local church instead of driving to St. Leo's.  I missed seeing my family.  
     
That September I started kindergarten in St. Fidelis School.  Some of the good sisters had wanted to travel and meet exotic heathens in far away places.  Well, they almost got their wish.  I was the first Maltese child they'd ever seen.  College Point had been settled by Irish and German families.  It was time for me to learn about America through their eyes.  
     
As Christmas approached, the windows of the German bakeries were filled with the most beautiful cookies I'd ever seen.  They were in all kinds of shapes: stars, angels, animals and wreaths.  They were decorated with coconut, jam, icing and tiny silver balls.  Some of my classmates brought in samples of their mothers' baking.  I brought some biscotti.  My friends were polite and tasted the dry, double-baked bread.  Then we ate the lebkuchen, pfeffernuesse, zimtsterne, and jam filled spitzbuben.  The stollen reminded me of panettone.     
I thought a German Christmas was delicious. I planned to eat German and Italian holiday food every Christmas for the rest of my life.

We helped Sister decorate the Christmas tree with sugar cookies which had been twisted into figure eights. Then Sister told us to gather around her. She was going to read us a story. Sister showed us the picture of Santa Claus and his eight reindeer. My friends were delighted.
     
I was confused.  
     
I had never heard any of this before.  Santa was supposed to slide down a chimney and land in a fireplace.  We didn't have a fireplace.  We had a huge, oil-burning furnace in the basement.  Ma hung our stockings, along with all the other wet laundry, on a clothesline near the furnace.  It made awful noises and had fire in it.  If Santa landed in it he'd fry like a strufoli.  That would end Christmas forever.  I didn't think Santa would take such a risk for a total stranger.  The lovely cookies felt like lead in my stomach.
     
Sister talked about Santa checking his list of good little girls and boys.  Santa had a list?  I knew we were on the Registered Aliens list.  Every January the TV reminded Ma to fill out green cards so we wouldn't go to jail or Malta.  How could I get on Santa's list?  Could Santa get my name from the Alien list?  Did I need to fill out another card?  
     
The afternoon went from bad to worse.  Sister told us we could put our letters to Santa in the special mailbox in the classroom.  A letter?  What language did Santa speak?  He'd never heard from me.  I wasn't on his list.  What could I say?  
     
"Hi, you don't know me, but I'd like some toys."  I'd never written a letter to La Befana.  She just gave me toys.  Would Santa shoot La Befana if she came to College Point?  Oh, boy… I was in big trouble.     
     
In kindergarten we learned about God the Father, about how we should pray to Him and tell Him what we needed.  I didn't need another Father.  I figured if my Pop was always busy working, this guy who took care of everything in the whole wide world would really never have time for me.
     
I needed a Grandma.
     
The next time we went to Corona I told Nonni about Santa Claus and that he was in charge of Christmas in College Point.  Nonni listened patiently as I explained the rules.
     
She repeated the main points, "Santa Claus.  A letter."     
I nodded.    
"I fix.  I write letter to Befana.  She give to Santa.  No hard feelings.  Christmas come."
     
I had my doubts.  Nonni had never been to College Point.  Maybe nobody ever had to change from La Befana to Santa Claus.  Maybe Christmas was lost forever, like some of the packages we never got from Malta.
     
On Christmas Eve we all gathered at Uncle Joe and Aunt Betty's home in Corona.  We had the Christmas Eve dinner.  Then we went to St. Leo's for the Midnight Mass.  Everything was familiar.  Latin and Italian.  Why couldn't we have stayed there?  
     
When we were leaving the church I saw a pale cloud in the sky.  It looked long and thin, with a sort of lump on one end.  For a moment I thought it looked like Santa and his sleigh with eight tiny reindeer.  I kept looking at that cloud.  It followed us from the church to Uncle Joe's house, where we had panettone.  When we left, the cloud was still there.  I watched from the car.  The cloud followed us from Corona to College Point.  
     
I never noticed clouds before.  Did clouds always follow people from one town to another?  Was it really a cloud?  Sister had told us that Santa had millions of helpers, tiny people called elves.  Could it have been an elf picking up the letter from La Befana?
     
Christmas morning, Pop was eating breakfast while Ma was cleaning Rose.  Ma sent me to the basement to get some dry diapers that were hanging by the furnace.  Being a big sister wasn't much fun.  I pulled down two diapers.  Then I noticed some lumps by the furnace.  I thought some clothes had fallen off the line.  I walked toward the furnace.  
     
But the lumps weren't clothes.  
They were boxes.  
They were wrapped.  
They were presents!  
They were for me!!

Santa had found me.