Dedicated to my parents, especially my mother who made Easter so special for us. First published in Nostalgia Magazine March 2005
Easter was a busy time in our house
during the 50’s. It began Holy
Wednesday, with the baking of our special Easter bread, Paska*, or Babka, as it’s
sometimes called. My sisters and I
helped gather the ingredients and set them on the table. Mom stood on a chair
and took out the special round pans she used only for Easter bread. I’m not
sure why, but this bread had to be round.
First, we measured the milk and set it on the
stove to scald. Next Mom measured the yeast. I loved the smell of it. One year,
enticed by the aroma, I stuck my finger in it and tasted it. I couldn't’ get
rid of the bitterness out of my mouth and my brothers, sisters and mom laughed
at me for being foolish enough to try it. I wondered how something that smelled so good
could taste so bad.
Once the ingredients were mixed
together Mom began kneading the dough. I
thought it looked like fun, until I got older and she let me try it. Kneading
bread dough is hard work and we had to knead it until it blistered. After she
kneaded it it was set to rise. We often
sneaked in the kitchen and pinched off a piece and ate it. Something about the
taste of raw dough kept us coming back, no matter how much my mom yelled at us.
After an hour or so, Mom turned the
dough out onto a special board my uncle made for her from an old table. She reserved
a small piece of dough and cut the remainder into even portions for the loaves. She put the loaves in the pan and took the
reserved dough, rolled it between her hands like a snake and cut off pieces to
form a cross on each loaf and put the loaves in the oven. The savory smell of
fresh baked
bread filled the house for hours.
The bread was then stored in plastic bags for Easter Sunday.
Holy Thursday was beet-making
day. My mother used fresh beets and
horseradish for this delicious relish*. After
she cooked the beets, she grated them on the small side of a grater and
suffered many a skinned knuckle. In later years, she purchased six cans of
whole beets and a jar of horseradish from the grocery store. I’m not sure what
gave her the idea, maybe she got tired of skinned knuckles, but one year she
brought out her old meat grinder and attached it to the table, added the beets,
grinding them into a finely shredded consistency. I loved watching the beets
come through the grinder. After the
beets were ground, mom boiled vinegar, added sugar to it and mixed it with the
beets. When it cooled she added horseradish, tasting it until it was just right. The vinegar blended with the pungent
horseradish and filled the house with its stinging smell. If we got too close
it made our eyes water.
On Good Friday Mom baked a ham and
boiled kielbasa. The kielbasa had been
in the refrigerator for several days. Every
time we opened the refrigerator door, the rich garlicky aroma tantalized our
taste buds. Sometimes we opened it just to get a whiff. As the aroma of the ham and kielbasa wafted
through the house our mouths watered, but since it was Good Friday, samples of
the delicious smelling meats were forbidden.
We could hardly wait until Easter.
Friday night, Mom made sirok*, Easter cheese. We called it yellow thing. My older
sister and I cracked several dozen eggs into a large pot and beat them with the
electric mixer. Mom filled another larger pot with water and set it on the
stove to boil. After we added milk, sugar, and nutmeg to the eggs, we beat the
mixture a little more. Mom then took the mixture to the stove and set that pot
inside the large one, creating a double boiler. We took turns mixing it since it needed
constant stirring. As the mixture began
to curdle, it formed a solid almost scrambled egg texture. The liquid separated
and turned a bluish green. Once it curdled, Mom poured it into a colander lined
with cheesecloth. While it drained, she
tightened the cheesecloth into a ball and tied it. She hung it over the sink from a hook and let
it drain overnight. In the morning, she
removed it from the cheesecloth. The sweet spicy smell of the nutmeg lingered
for hours.
Saturday afternoon, Mom sent one of
us to the attic to get the blessing basket.
She lined the basket with a towel, set a loaf of bread, a large piece of
ham, kielbasa, sirok, several hard cooked eggs, and a small container of beets
into the basket and covered it with a fancy white doily that she Ohio,
many churches carried out this tradition. I believe some still do.
crocheted
especially for it. The blessing of baskets was a custom from the old country
and even though we lived in
My
father, sisters, and I took the basket to church. This was a special service
and before the blessing, we removed the doily.
The Priest went up and down the aisle sprinkling Holy Water over the
congregation and baskets of food.
Easter Sunday after church, Mom
took out the blessed food and everyone had a small piece of it for breakfast.
After smelling all these delicious aromas for the past four days, we savored
the taste. Easter was a not only a time to rejoice in the new beginning through
Christ, but a time to share the love of family and good food.
*Paska or Babka is sweet bread
usually with yellow raisins.
*Sirok – a yellow round ball made
from equal amounts of milk and eggs (1 dozen eggs to 1 quart of milk) add sugar
and nutmeg to taste.
Beet
Relish
6 cans whole beets grated
½ cup white vinegar, boiled
2/3 cup sugar
Horseradish to taste
In a large bowl, grate the
beets. Boil the vinegar. Add the sugar
to it and let it cool slightly, then pour it over the beets. Add horseradish to taste. I start with
2
tablespoons, but depending on hot you want it more can be added.
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