Fiddler on the Roof was on last night. It doesn't really have anything to do with Easter time that I can recall (I wasn't able to watch all of it) but television programmers seem to schedule it this time of year along with The Ten Commandments like clockwork.
The one thing Fiddler is strong on is the thread of Tradition!, it's one of the songs after all.
Easter time has many traditions in my family. In fact I like the traditions of Easter better than Christmas any day.
We dyed eggs on Good Friday, and on Saturday night faithfully put our plastic grass-filled baskets and Sunday shoes out for the Easter Bunny to fill with candy and eggs.
There were certain traditional German foods that were always made too. The one I never liked until very recently was the bread called Baska (busk-a). (If you follow the link it describes it more perfectly and exactly how it was in our house too, than I am doing here) It's anise flavored and I always hated it, especially the ones with raisins. The raisin ones were for Dad. It gets baked in tin coffee cans, so it pops out and sort of looks like Easter eggs. My Dad always ate his with a hard boiled egg.
But somewhere along the way, because Mom made it faithfully every year, I tried it again and liked it; no, I actually loved it. When it's toasted and buttered it's the most delicious bread you'll ever eat.
In 2004 I had a moment you could call 'realizing your mortality' around the Easter season. I thought, "the only person in my family who knows how to make this bread is Mom. Who will make it when she is no longer here? I must learn to make it and keep the tradition of my family."
I called Mom for the recipe.
The people who came before us worked hard. Everything they did was labor intensive including the cooking. I don't think anyone works this hard anymore. Making the Baska that year was so difficult and time consuming but it was worth it. In making it I knew the love that my Mom and my Grandmother before her put into every loaf.
I made the Easter Baska again this year, it was a bit easier this time but I still had to call* Mom for help for all the little nuances that aren't written in the recipe. I'm glad I know how to make this bread of my genealogy. It makes me connected to the women who made it every Easter before me and well, that's pretty cool to be creating something that stands the test of time. Nothing stands the test of time these days.
I plan to update the recipe with those details so someday I can pass it to the next generation because it's tradition!
Gotta go now, I'm in need of a slice of Baska toast with butter.
Happy Easter!
*it was actually texts; it is the digital age for crying out loud
