Having exceeded my annual allotment of sweets over the past two weeks, I dragged my now somewhat heavier butt off to the gym for a post-Christmas workout with Lorenzo. Surprisingly, my over indulgence over the past few days wasn’t reflected in my performance; I struggled at my usual pace, feeling extra good about myself for having made the effort.
When I got home, I was confronted by the array of Christmas goodies scattered across my kitchen counter; an opened gift box brimming with home-made candies, a chocolate orange, a Ziploc bag of my Dad’s caramel corn, the remains of a late-night cookie tray, candy canes and my absolute favorite, the last few slices of yesterday’s Christmas Stollen. At the gym I had vowed I was done with goodies for the next few days, but I just couldn’t resist. I grabbed a plate, peeled back the plastic wrap and helped myself to a couple of slices to enjoy with my second cup of coffee.
Of all the Christmas traditions I carry on for my family, baking and most of all eating stollen on Christmas morning is my absolute favorite. The sweet, yeasty, fruity, frosted bread sliced thin and smeared with butter is what I look forward to the most. Over the years I’ve tried a variety of recipes, finally settling on one my mother recommended from the Betty Crocker cookbook she gave me for Christmas in 1976. Every year I worry that perhaps my yeast will be too old and that it won’t rise and then that I will under bake it and it will be too doughy or over bake it and it will be too dry. I put a great deal of pressure on myself; that’s just how important the stollen is. But, despite my worrying, each year it turns out just fine and again we have tasty bread to munch on while we open our gifts.
I can’t remember a Christmas morning without stolen and hope I’ll never have one in the future. In a way, it is our family Christmas communion; linking generations past to generations present. Even when we’re not able to be together on Christmas, just knowing that we’re all eating stollen keeps us bound as family.
So thanks Mom and to all the grandmothers before you who have mixed, kneaded and baked stollen through the years to give our family something special to munch on as we surround the tree on Christmas morning year after year. It is in itself one of the greatest gift of all.