This is one of the posts recovered after a botched website move in 2013. It was originally written and published on December 8, 2012.
Every year my family comes together en masse for the annual Christmas party. It is a beloved tradition.
Each family unit makes something for the other family units, and over the years certain food-based traditions have been set. For instance:
???? Auntie Pam makes hot fudge sauce
???? Auntie Pat makes sweet pickle relish
???? Tammy makes blueberry bread and banana bread
???? Amy makes toffee
???? Shonda makes Bailey’s
Then, there’s my mom. My mom, since way before I was born, has always made doughnuts – the same recipe she learned from her grandmother; her Nana.
The dough is so thick, she has broken more than one “heavy-duty” mixer attempting to catch a break from the workout of stirring it. It simply has to be stirred by hand – a hand attached to a strong arm.
Then there’s the rolling out and the cutting out, all done on a wooden board she’s been using for this task for about 50 years.
The cut doughnuts are carefully dropped into the bubbling oil, and as soon as they float, they are flipped to brown the reverse side. After that, they’re transferred to the cooling tray with a carving fork that has been around as long as the rolling board.
The last step is to wrap them up in aluminum foil six-packs once they’re completely cool.
They end up going into gift bags – two six-packs per bag – to be handed out at the family party.
It would be a mighty sad bunch of people if mom didn’t make her doughnuts, or Auntie Pam her sauce, etc.
(Psst! I know how to make the doughnuts, too.) 😉
These food traditions are beloved for their tastiness, and yet…
They’re beloved even more for the sentimentality – the fond memories of Christmas parties past – that surrounds them.
Traditions are like that, don’t you think?