Last Thursday was a public holiday in Italy: The Feast of the Immaculate Conception. As a more secular person, I appreciate this observance because it stakes a sort of obligatory pause on the season’s momentum. I do love the month of December, but it kind of feels like the month starts the day after Thanksgiving and then moves clear to New Year’s Eve at the clip of a frecciarossa (a high-speed train). Regardless of whether you were observing the sinless life of the Virgin Mary last week, I have to imagine that everyone gained something a bit meaningful in the break.
Right now we’re at peak Christmas food stockage for the season. I say this because you enter any supermarket and the place is comically overstuffed with chocolates and, most importantly, Christmas bread. Boxes and boxes of panettone and pandoro are found on any free horizontal space. Any free walking space. It’s a bit like parking in Rome. Even if a spot isn’t striped for parking, people are going to improvise and just sidle on up wherever their car will (mostly) fit. A disconcerting amount of people seem completely fine with risking damage to their vehicle by kind of pulling off the road to “park” while leaving its rear end hanging in traffic going by.
But unlike the creative and infuriating motorists of Rome, the pandoro and panettone-causing traffic jams in the supermarkets are not going to make anyone too upset. Sure, it might be a bit harder to shuffle yourself down the now-skinny path to grab a bag of frozen spinach—but it’s also kind of a nice effect. Walking snaking through the shop you can browse over the dozens of different brands and flavor combinations that have been stocked. You might even spy something that compels you to pick one up and throw it into your basket. I know that I’ve been guilty of this.
My rough count thus far puts me at seven panettone that I have bought thus far. I can recall that in early November, my first purchase was a pistachio flavor bound for a colleague. Cartwheel through the weeks since then, and I am sure that the preponderance of my choices have been chocolate-based. I’ve already managed to grab the panettone that I will open on Christmas, and that’s a pricey artisanal bread called “Il Gianduioso” (“the chocolate hazelnut-y one).
The internet and Italian television have already been chock-full of the “Which is better?” debate. Do you prefer the towering and more dense pandoro? Or are you on Team Panettone, the fluffier dome that traditionally comes with raisins and candied fruit inside? This is a debate that comes up every year, and indeed it’s an easy discussion topic for any holiday parties that you might be attending. People are passionate about their food in Italy, and everyone (not just Italians) have their favorite Christmas cake.
After spending at least one Christmas in Italy, you start to develop an eye (and taste) for the good panettone and pandoro. To wit: I was at one holiday party that was also a potluck for the two Christmas breads. Everyone brought in what they wanted, and a quick scan of the festive boxes and paper wrappings on the table let you know what would be on offer. Folks took turns sawing wedges into the breads for easy retrieval. Bottles of prosecco and glasses abounded. A simple effort, but one with a worthwhile payoff.
Right away I knew which panettone I wanted to try. I forgot to mention that while I am on Team Panettone, I do not enjoy raisins or candied fruit in my cake. Perhaps that was already apparent from my season’s purchases thus far…but I can’t think of much less that I’d like to be gumming around in my mouth while taking a bite of buttery, cloud-like sweetness. This leaves me out of the game if people are only offering traditional panettone. Instead, the one I wanted to try was an artisanal pistachio one. It looked different than the others at it had an icing on the top and was clearly not from the supermarket. My fatal error, however, was that I got caught up in some chitchat and didn’t get to the table quick enough.
I had been talking for only about two minutes before I excused myself and headed for the refreshment table. When I got there, I looked down at where the pistachio panettone sat, and the only thing that remained was the baking paper base. The ripped-up paper sides and a CSI-style outline of crumb gather on the bottom of fit. I was too late. I laughed at myself because I definitely should have known better. I was in a room full of people who were raised on this stuff and as such were far smarter than me when it came to getting a slice of the best in show.
Of course I can’t call my folly a disappointment. While the season that is December seems to fly by, we all manage to partake in more than our share of Christmas treats over the summer. There will be more, and at some stage you (or maybe it’s just me) will start to have visions of the bathroom scale dancing in my head. At some point soon people will start mentioning that leftover panettone makes for amazing French toast—I haven’t tried it, but I don’t doubt it. The news coverage on panettone will tell viewers that the cake freezes well. For me, the issue with both French toast as well as freezing is that at some point over the holidays, I will reach a point where I don’t want any more. I won’t want any come the spring (and anyway, that slot is reserved for panettone’s cousin, la colomba pasquale).
It’s hard to believe that Christmas is nearly here, but I know that to be the case. Somewhat slowly but quite surely, the palettes of Christmas breads will slowly start to grow smaller and then suddenly disappear from sight in the markets. Procrastinators will realize that the selection will not be as good, and that maybe it would have been better to stock up early. The beauty of pandoro and panettone is that it keeps for weeks. You can do as I did and buy early, and be assured that come the Befana, you will still be sawing off pieces of good bread. Or maybe not. January 6th is the time to be taking down the tree. I marvel at those who, at that stage, are still remotely interested in eating this stuff.
But right now my curiosity still holds. To wit, while ducking into the shop to buy more bananas, my eyes trained on a new kind of mysterious bread—a smaller box but one that promised hazelnuts. It’s called pan dei quarti and it’s from the Abruzzo region. So, in the name of discovery and education, I grabbed the last box on offer (again, another reminder that this might be the only time I see it). I’m not sure when I will break into it, but I will look forward to an opportunity when I can share the experience with others. Maybe another holiday party, maybe at the office. Or maybe just at home with friends and loved ones. It’s in the spirit of the season, and at this particular moment it’s a comfort to watch Rome’s cup runneth over with all kinds of goodness.