Lidia Bastianich
Master Chef
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Holiday Traditions and Dining L'Albero di Natale, 2004 For me, it all begins with the tree. The preparation of the Christmas tree is very special, as are the vivid memories of my own childhood Christmas trees. Our family tree was always set in Grandma Rosa’s kitchen, on the casella. The casella was the wooden box where she kept the oils and the condiments. It was not the lush tip of an evergreen, but a humble juniper bush, and it was the best tree—the tree of a childhood full of love and a true sense of belonging. It was a dense conical bush, no higher than four or five feet tall, with small, prickly, silvery blue-green branches studded with shriveled orange berries left over from the summer. Grandpa Giovanni was “the hachet man”. A few days before Christmas, when he would gather up his sickle and small hatchet, my brother Franco and I knew it was time to go and select our Christmas tree. The hills surrounding Busoler—my home on the Istrian peninsula in present-day Croatia —were studded with juniper bushes, and we knew them well. It was our playground, where we would play hide and seek with our friends all summer. Franco and I would have already eyed the juniper bush we each wanted for our Christmas tree during those summer days, and as siblings do, we’d argue over the perfect one while Grandpa patiently waited until we agreed. Then we would help him chop it down and bring it home. Our tree was not full of silvery glass ornaments, tinsel, and twinkling lights. It was an edible tree, and the making of those decorations began well in advance of Christmas since we harvested, dried, and baked everything that adorned on our tree. To hang the apples, quinces, tangerines, and oranges, we’d use the heavy thread that Grandma made our slippers with. The apples and quince came from our orchards. Throughout the year, Grandma would save the small and firm ones that had a nice stem for hanging on the tree. She’d store the apples in the cantina (cellar), where it was dark but ventilated, lined up like soldiers on a shelf or beam. The quince, on the other hand, were distributed between her clean sheets and towels in the linen closet and soon all of the linen, biancheria as we called it, were perfumed with the sensuous scent of quince. (To this day, quince is one of my favorite aromas and fruits, it brings me back to a place and time in my life of unblemished existence and serenity.) The agrumi—orange, tangerines, and other citrus fruit—were not indigenous to northern Italy , where I lived. They were a special treat for the holidays from the south, mainly Sicily . Many came wrapped in parchment paper adorned with a medallion-like design in the middle, depicting beautiful women with their black wavy hair flowing in the wind, or big ships with black smoke billowing out of their smoke stacks sailing to distant places. Not having television and with limited movies, our young minds were stimulated by the colors and designs and, in our imaginations, would sail those boats to distant shores. There were always dried fruits and nuts. Figs were dried and strung like beads, along with bay leaves, on sturdy verbena sprigs then tied like a necklace or crown and hung on branches. We had walnuts and almonds and hazelnuts. We would tie the almonds together with string to make garlands that would drape across the tree. Weeks in advance, cookies were baked. There was bussolai ,fritole, crostoli, cornetti alla grappa, and ravioli dolci, each tied with pieces of ribbon. We also made mandorlato (nugat) and croccantini (prailines) that were hung with sewing thread. Oh, and the caramelle, candies of all flavors wrapped in shiny, silver and gold wrapping, and tied on a string that would dangle off the tree. Now, here I have something to confess. The caramelle were so tempting that sometimes my brother and I would sneak these sweets out of their wrappers and in their place put a rock of the same size, then carefully re-wrap them, and place them back on the tree. The base of our tree was covered with patches of moss collected from the shady parts of the woods near our home. For snow, we would scatter light white puffs pulled from cotton balls on the branches and gently blow flour off the palms of our hands all over the tree. As a final touch, on Christmas eve, mom would use clothes pins to attach a few candles on some of the branches. As I remember, that tree stood in its full regalia for maybe one day, then we would slowly devour it. The whole family was involved in the preparation of the ornaments for our tree. Often I reflect on the great amount of time my grandparents and parents spent in creating and being part of these special moments for us children, especially at the holidays. There was a lot lacking in comparison to today, and yet in retrospect, it seems that there was so much more. Along with the traditional tastes, roast pork makes a festive main dish.
My earliest holidays were spent in Istria, a peninsula south of Trieste, Italy, in the Adriatic Sea. I vividly remember the food-laden Christmas tree we decorated every year and the traditional feasts associated with Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. My brother, Franco, and I headed to the woods a few days before Christmas to choose the juniper bush that would be our tree. These dense, conical bushes are no higher than 4 or 5 feet and have small, prickly branches. The ornaments were prepared well in advance since we grew, dried and baked everything that hung on our tree. The fresh fruits of the season would go up first since they were the heaviest decorations. We used the heavy thread that Grandma used - to thatch the soles of her slippers - to hang apples, quinces, tangerines and oranges. Next came the dried fruits and nuts. We strung dried figs on a pliable but sturdy verbena branch in a beaded fashion with a bay leaf between each fig. They looked like necklaces or crowns. We also hung almonds, walnuts and hazelnuts on the tree. Once our tree was finished, we waited for Vigilia, or Christmas Eve, to arrive. This is the day when Italians celebrate one of their oldest gastronomic traditions - mangiare in magro, a day when meat is not consumed and fish, vegetables and fruit make up the multicourse meals enjoyed throughout the area. Abstaining from meat "purified" the body and prepared us for the big feasts that followed on Christmas Day. Since we grew up beside the sea, this wasn't hard to do in our family. On Christmas Day, the meal was, and still is, often served during midday and starts with some type of stuffed pasta in brodo, or broth. I remember the stuffed pasta in capon broth, followed by a stuffed capon as our main course. In Italy, you will typically find turkey, goose or capon served as the main course, and everyone has a different stuffing. Once we arrived in America, I learned that both turkey and ham are often found on the Christmas table. A few years ago, I decided to add luscious roast pork to our Christmas meal, creating a recipe I am sharing with you here. Rich desserts and spiced breads are the way to finish an Italian holiday meal. At our table, you will find traditional Milanese panettone, apple strudel, chocolate cakes, cookies and amaretti pudding. |
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Created: Sunday,
November 09, 2003; Last Updated: Sunday, October 21, 2007
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