Once upon a time there was a girl who loved to be in the kitchen. Her favorite spot was cozying up next to her mom and grandmothers, and nudging her way into the process. Little did she realize that it would be the start to a lifelong passion of cooking and baking for the people she loves. This is a love story. A story about the joy that my mom and grandmothers instilled in me about filling a table with homemade, handcrafted food made from love and for the pure joy of making people happy. And they always did. There was and still is delight around our family table. My mom and grandmothers had amazing talents in both the cooking and baking departments. And although I developed my own style, (they tended to follow recipes, and I make up stuff as I go), they inspired me, and still do.
I think back on how much these powerhouse women accomplished in the kitchen. Being a good cook and hostess were simply expected back then. Nowadays a host is met with such kudos for doing the same or even less than what our mothers and grandmothers had been doing for decades.
I can’t tell you exactly why I was so captivated by watching them, and helping them. Maybe it was seeing the excitement of the guests as they approached a table filled to capacity with yummy bites. I guess it created a sense of fulfillment for me that would run through everything I do. In writing this love story, I tried to reach back into my deepest memories of those times to tap into that exact feeling; the scheduling, the preparation, the mounds of ingredients waiting to be used, the display, the enthusiasm for good food, the anticipation of guest arrivals and then the family gathered around a table of ‘abundancia’, laughing and crying that our bellies were too full. Those memories are deep rooted, cemented with the gift of giving. I'm glad I learned from the best.
When it comes to traditions, our family is not unique. Every family has their own set that they follow. Ours had both holiday traditions and ones we followed weekly. Given that we didn’t keep our Italian language alive, I believe our food traditions took on an even greater purpose. Food became our love language, so passing it down through the generations is what continues to bind us together.
My cousin, Karen, was much like me in wanting to be the guardians of traditions and recipes. Sadly, she passed and is so dearly missed. But many years before, she compiled our grandmother’s recipes and sent me a book, which, of course, now has even more sentimental value. Karen loved to cook and bake too, and was a master in her own right. In sharing these recipes she has now become an even greater part of the legacy.
I cherish those holiday moments of the past. But admit that I long for the days when all our families would gather together and celebrate, eat, drink and truly be merry. We literally all lived within blocks of one another, so stopping by was no big deal. What I loved most, and have come to truly appreciate, is how all sides of our family gathered together, in-laws from every direction, all together. When someone got married, it just meant that the entire family grew. We didn’t have to split up and go to separate places. We were one big family; relatives upon relatives upon relatives.
Nowadays, folks need to sit
in a car for hours or even
travel by plane. I vote for
just packing ourselves on
a sleigh and pushing our
way over to grandma’s
house. From the smiles
on our faces there is no
doubt that this was the
preferred method of transportation back then.
So, it’s no wonder that I’ve tried to keep those feelings alive. And the one way I know how; baking up a storm during the holidays. Each year, as many of my family as can join come to my house to help me make cookies and Struffoli. It’s a weekend long event, and then some.
Some stay the weekend, like my parents, happy to get up early and stay up late. Others come for a day, and sometimes if tempted with their favorite cookie, come back the next to continue to help.
There is so much nostalgia that builds around gathering with loved ones among stacks of butter, rows of eggs and mountains of flour. The debate about whether I should double or triple a recipe, then the gasps and laughs at the amounts we made. The wait to see who eats the most cookies as they come out of the oven.
Knowing that these treats are enjoyed and will be handed down to my nieces and nephew, is the best way to honor my mom and grandmothers’ traditions.
Everybody gets their hands in there to pitch in. Some pick the tasks they love, others are forced by me to help out even if it’s not their favorite part.
The funny thing about me making cookies for the holidays is that due to my wheat intolerance I can’t eat a single one. I feel like that is the absolute best proof of how much I love bringing joy to others.
It may be hard work. But we always make time for wine.
When it comes to holiday traditions, we have several cookies that are main stays every year. But two are at the absolute top of the heap: Struffoli and Grandma Cookies.
Struffoli are a traditional southern Italian Christmas treat, that originated in Naples which is near where my Grandma Perri was born (Salerno). They are basically fried dough balls covered in melted honey and sugar, mounded up and finished with sprinkles. (Who the hell cares about calories or if these are healthy. They are good for you because they are delicious and put a smile on your face. That’s health, my friends.)
It is a laborious job that takes time and patience. You have to make the dough, knead the dough until it’s baby bottom smooth, cut the dough into small pieces and roll them into long ropes, let dry, then cut into tiny bits, then fry, then cook to coat them with sugar & honey. Believe me when I say it’s a process, but one I do with absolute love for those you relish picking one ball off at a time. For years my grandmother never let me knead the dough. And she watched over me as I rolled the ropes. Too thin, too thick. Ok, that’s just right. And while she was alive, I think I was only allowed to fry them once on my own. It was a decades long apprenticeship.
The other stand out fav is the Grandma cookie. I guess every family has their own version of a Grandma Cookie. For our part, we have no idea where our recipe originated, or if my Grandmother invented it herself. My Grandma Perri made them, without any written recipe. It was simply all kept in her head. Finally, one year we got smart. We carefully watched he, measured what she tossed in the bowl, and wrote it all down in order to preserve the legacy forever. She called them Grandma Cookies. So we called them Grandma Cookies. And that is how they will remain. The cookie made by my Grandmother.
Just as with the Struffoli, it was years before she allowed me to do certain tasks. I had to earn my level of involvement, proving that I mastered the previous task. And to be honest, there are still times when I wish they were both right behind me so I could ask them questions or have them tell me that I’m doing it right.
The texture of these are more like a mini cake/scone than a cookie. And the way my grandmother made them was not a beautiful work of art. No, no, the icing was and still is simply brushed on willy nilly, and sprinkles are spooned over top. And to be honest, I’m all for that method. True, that those immaculately glazed cookies are a thing of beauty but all that work destroyed after one bite. Heck, it tastes the same no matter the decoration.
For anyone who has had these cake like cookies they know what I’m talking about. They are so darn good. And because they are beloved… We literally make a table load.
It has always been a family affair but when some family members can’t make the trip, they join in by FaceTime.
It’s a tradition I try hard to fulfill each year. No matter what is going on, or how crazy the season gets I do my very best to bake up a storm. But this tradition took a turn these past several years due to the pandemic. I have been making everything by myself and then ship them to family. It was quite the adjustment. The other big change was that I starting selling my baked goods, so certain protocols and procedures are taken for customer orders. You can check out my SHOP PAGE to see what’s cooking.
However, Grandma Cookies and Struffoli are still purely a family tradition. And this year I was looking forward to welcoming back my crew of apprentices. But as luck would have it, schedules shifted and we are making a big move for my parents from Long Island to Westchester smack dab in the middle of the holidays. Thus the cookie manufacturing plant has been postponed until they get settled and we can all reconvene again. Maybe that’s why I decided to write this post. I wanted desperately to get back to the holiday traditions I know and love. So sharing this holiday love story will have to do until my parents are settled in, and back right by my side.
No matter how these cookies are packaged, they come from deep in my heart, and made with pure love.
Thank you for indulging me this trip down memory lane. Sharing the abundance of togetherness, laughter and holiday cheer is the best way of honoring the past, living in the present and ensuring the future.
From my family to yours, I wish you all the very happiest of holidays. Joyous of years filled with peace and bliss, adventure and wonder, laughter and giggles, health and more health all stirred with the largest amount, and only ingredient that matters… LOVE.