One of the things my mother is known for around these parts is her baking prowess. It’s not uncommon for a friend or relative to politely request several trays of handmade, homemade Italian cookies for a child’s upcoming communion party or bridal shower, with my mother cheerfully obliging. Growing up, the minute a hint of snow filled the air—that swollen, gray-white chill that rolls in—my mother would set up in the kitchen, nuts, jam, mixer, sugar, flour, butter, chocolate, wooden spoon in hand. The smell of all that baked-good goodness swelled through our warm home, so that it felt on those days that even if the world around us went mute under buried snow, the coziness inside would keep us safe and warm forever.
My mother baked bread, too, at the first sight of a snowflake. A huge pot of soup would appear, simmering on the stovetop—carrots, onion, celery, sausage, beans. The two together equaled a humble feast. But around this time of year, especially, with Christmas so near on the horizon, the baking centered on sweets. Tiramisu, cheesecake, rainbow cookies, white cookies, nut cookies, baba rum, pignoli cookies, these are just a few of my mother’s favorite things to bake. These desserts aren’t just delicious, they bring joy to many people, and they signify celebration; they are rituals that mark the time of year, and they infuse life with a bit of magic and glow. Baked goods can do that because they are little beautiful creations—so beautiful you just can’t help but want to eat them—of indulgent, sweet, soul-filling revelry.
Well, you probably know where this story is going, my friends: Turns out I am a lot like my mother. (Don’t we all become them?!?) I have spent the past week unapologetically, downright decadently, letting my kitchen become what I’ve fondly been calling my “laboratorio,” the Italian chef’s word for their kitchen or space of creation. The jars of flour and sugar have been out on the island, butter is at rest in a constant state of soft, dozens of eggs appear and then disappear, cracked into seemingly endless bowls of batter. I’ve made two types of panettone, sugar cookies, shortbread and gingerbread, the recipe for which I’m sharing with you below. In short, Christmas and winter give me license to play in the kitchen, most specifically in baking desserts, which is something I don’t do all the time, because of course sweets are a treat, not a staple. But just as I like to create stories with writing and worlds with photographs, I love to create a feeling with food in the kitchen; the same way my mother created a feeling for my siblings and me on those winter mornings of our childhoods.