On the Seventh Day of a Feminine Christmas

A few years ago, a friend was bemoaning that she had to bake something for her sister’s Christmas party.  A teacher and a single mother, she was exhausted and time was at a premium.  I asked her why she didn’t just buy something and she told me if she brought a store-bought item, it would look bad to her many sisters and sisters-in-law.  Apparently, this family’s tradition was to make everything from scratch.

I attended the party too and noticed the sideboard was filled with wonderful things.  I could tell they were homemade because each item was a little imperfect-looking.  Just a little.  After having so many work potluck lunches, I was used to my coworkers’ brought store-bought food.  But everything at the party was scrumptious and old-fashioned and I remember thinking “This is the way food is supposed to be”.

Each Christmas Eve, I make my grandmother’s chocolate bread pudding with hard sauce.  If I didn’t, people would cry.  I would probably cry too;  I love it so much.  I also make my own gingerbread spice cake and the orange biscuits I eat for breakfast every Christmas morning.  What would my Christmas be without these home-baked and delicious things?  Not as wonderful I assure you.  And worth it, even if I am tired.

Oh sure, I will make a trip to the marvelous Italian bakery nearby where I will buy some of their creamy cannoli’s and maybe a box of Christmas tree butter cookies.  I simply cannot do everything, can I?  And we do live in a modern universe…

But there is something Christmas-wonderful about baking fresh and homemade from a hand-me-down recipe or baking something you remember fondly from your childhood Christmases.

And this year, my daughter asked if she could make the bread pudding…

Well why not Daughter, why not?