A meaningful mess

At about this time of year, a few weeks before Christmas, I must decide one very important thing. It has nothing to do with presents or mittens or candles in the windows. It is not an earth shattering decision, will not end wars (oh how I wish I could) nor will it bring us a white Christmas (another talent I wish I had---White Christmas ala Diane T.). I know if I do it and travel to NY it must come along. If I do not do it and travel to NY I will be questioned about it's absence. It is a family tradition that I may be the only one carrying on. It is not hard for others to do but as far as I know I am the only one who makes struffoli.

Struffoli are Italian treats; even though my friend who grew up in Turkey knows all about them and ate them as a child,too. They are interesting and most people have never seen or heard of them, but once you try them you will love them. According to my mother it is a sign of the season. A platter of Struffoli, cone shaped and covered with the proper decorations is a great centerpiece and dessert.

My decision to make or not make them is complicated (as are all my pre-Christmas decisions). Firstly, if we plan on staying in our home for the holiday it is silly to make something that, in the end, only I will eat. I have brought them to school on occasion and shared and as much as I like doing that it is not the same as sitting at a long table after a meal that has taken hours to prepare and eat and reaching for a struffoli or two or twenty. Secondly, it takes a bit of time to make. Thirdly, it is a little messy to make and lastly, it is not the least bit healthy and I would think, rather fattening. OK, I don't usually care about the last few, but let's be honest, we need to take care of ourselves even during the holidays!

Struffoli are small, round, fried balls of dough that are crunchy on the outside and light on the inside, dipped in honey, mounded into the shape of a tree, sprinkled with nonpareils. Nonpareils are tiny sugary and colorful decorations and the word means hundreds and thousands. So you've got a messy kitchen with flying flour, sticky honey, stinky hot oil that spatters, and hundreds of thousands of tiny candy bouncing all around if it doesn't stick to the honey right away. To me the struffoli have to be round. I don't like them if they are rolled out like a snake and cut apart with a knife leaving flat edges. I cut them then roll them individually so they are ball shaped. You need lots and lots of little hand rolled balls of dough to fry up and mound into something big enough to look like a tree. I also like them to be small, smaller than a marble. It takes time to do.

Here is the payoff if I do make them. My mother reaching for the platter and telling me she is so happy I made them. Me telling her it is my present for her. My father sneaking some when no one is looking and then having them after Christmas dinner with his coffee. Remembering the struffoli we ate long ago that Grandma made. Knowing that this tradition is continuing. Seeing the smiles as my big family enjoys the treat.

Decision made.