Remembrances of Christmas past (01/03/93)

Remembrances of Christmas past

by Marta Pisetska-Farley

My truest memories of Christmas started after the second world war. Times were very tense politically, goods were few and foodstuffs scarce for many people, including our family. Ours was a displaced family, one of many "DP's" that came to Southern Germany at the end of World War II.

In our home "Sviata Vechera" (Holy Supper) on Christmas Eve, was always the long-awaited peak of the Christmas season. The work and preparation seemed exhausting and eternal. Our preparations for Christmas started early, immediately following the feast of St. Andrew, December 13.

The main focus for the children was the construction of Christmas tree ornaments from shiny colored paper, straw and egg shells. The glue we made ourselves, cooking flour and water to make a paste. These evening sessions were frustrating to me. My older sister mastered all the necessary skills before I did. So, my ornamental "peacock feathers" or "clowns" were never as neat and attractive as hers. Yet I remember those evening with great warmth.

"Sviatyi Mykolai" (St. Nicholas) appeared in Ukraine on December 19, and so he did in the displaced persons' camp. For children, this day was as important as a name day or a birthday. All anticipated the day and hoped for fine presents. In spite of my lack of skill, I too was eager to display a proper seriousness in making ornaments. Behavior was closely monitored at that critical time and, I was anxious not to have any front of my schoolmates.

St. Nicholas, attired as a bishop, would visit our home on December 10. He came to school on a designated evening or weekend, appearing during the obligatory Christmas play. The "saint" appeared dressed in full church vestments, bearing a staff. During this time of scarcity these necessities were borrowed from the chapel. He was always accompanied by two others; a devil and an angel. The devil's task was to hand out twigs (for beatings) to miscreants; the angel's to distribute presents to everybody else.

Parents took this opportunity to reprimand their children publicly for various faults, such as undue fighting, squabbling and general mischief. Young men and women would also use the occasion to play private and not-too-private jokes on one another, or to send token gag gifts. Some communities had a St. Nicholas party for adults, an occasion that would often turn into roasts or joking political discussions.

Our presents were usually a book, an article of clothing or a toy. One year, I remember, my sister lured me to my parents' bed with a great conspiratorial tones, and, from underneath, fished out a big box. Before opening it, she pledged me to sacred secrecy, and then told me that the present was to be mine since she was too old for it. An elderly neighbor had given the present to mother to pass on to one of us. She overheard mother planning to barter it for a kilo of butter. As my sister lifted the lid, I glimpsed a porcelain doll. I was thrilled that such a wondrous gift was planned for me. I wondered: what did mother have to do with St. Nicholas? Nor did it occur to me to ask that the doll be kept.

After the Feast of St. Nicholas, preparation for Christmas went into high gear. Mother would check our larder for the essential ingredients for "Sviata Vechera," the Holy Supper on Christmas Eve. In post-war Europe, everything was scarce. The favorite word in food preparation was "ersatz," or substitute.

When we emigrated to the United States, the difficulty was not scarcity, but our lack of English and different American tastes. For kutia, "frumenty," or whole wheat kernels, were essential, but where to buy them? No 1950's market ever stocked them. We finally found them in a bird seed store; we had to order a ten pound sack! Our family ended up being the wheat kernel supplier to the Ukrainian community in Baltimore. Poppy seed was not too difficult to find; the bird seed store stocked it also. Honey was available, but orange blossom honey did not have the color or the pungency of buckwheat honey which was more familiar to us. All this for kutia. But how would one celebrate Christmas without it?

Vegetables and fish posed no problem. The beets were prepared and fermented at least three weeks in advance. The fermented liquid, the beet "kvas," would be tart, mellow and deep-ruby red. Mother insisted that "her" borshch had to be cooked "properly" so its color would resemble good port. Dried boletus mushrooms (cepes) for vushka ("little ears") dumplings and gravy were sold in Jewish markets on Light Street. The dried fruit in "uzvar," a compote, came packaged in boxes; not the same as air-dried slices of Renata apples strung together ...

Scheduling the work was imperative if one cook was to manage. Mother, even with such fine helpers as my sister (who actually did the work) and me (who tried to), would plan the menu and set out priorities as for a major battle. By tradition the supper should begin at dusk, at the sighting of the first evening star. Ours seldom did. We were in the ball park until around eight and, by then, famished.

There was much to do and the excitement extreme. My younger sister and father were charged with buying the tree. Yes, we succumbed to this Western custom, sparing ourselves the impossible task of locating in winter the more traditional large sheaf of wheat. Buying a tree was no simple matter. We took advantage of the Ukrainian Julian calendar. We celebrated Christmas (Rizdvo) on January 7; by then all trees were the right price. Each tree's merits were debated and compared to those of previous years. Our precious, hand-made ornaments transformed it into a thing of beauty. The decoration of the tree took place the day before Christmas Eve, no sooner.

For the traditional "Sviata Vechera" itself, the table was set with the best we had. Always, there was a white linen table cloth. Mother's dowry table cloth with traditional heavy embroidery from the Podillia region of Ukraine, homespun from homegrown linen, covered our table. In the center a kolach (round or long braided wheat bread) was placed on two small pine boughs. These substituted for the more traditional straw or hay. The kolach was flanked by two tall bees' wax candles with their soft smell of honey. Another candle was set out on a window ledge to commemorate the departed spirits of family members, as well as the soldiers who died in Ukraine's war for independence. A small bowl filled with kutia, a symbol of welcome and abundance, was placed near this candle. Glasses were set out for wine; even children could have some.

At father's seat a plate held ten pieces of kolach and a small bowl of honey. All places were set. Everything was ready: borshch in a crystal tureen, and the fish aspic with gleaming golden carrot coins. With a nod from the kitchen and urging from father not to be late for the Christmas mass later at church, it was time.

Dressed in Sunday clothes, washed and combed, we would stand at our seats. Father would pick up the plate of bread and honey, with dignity cross the room and greet mother with "Khrystos Rodyvsia" (Christ is Born), the season's greeting, dipping a piece of kolach into the honey and offering her a bite. He would then finish eating it. In turn, from oldest to youngest, father would greet the children. However, when we girls were greeted, advice and gentle admonitions were often included, such as "... and I hope you will try harder in Latin," or "... self-control is a desirable quality in a person, try it." But his greeting also included recognition of one's achievements and growth in the past year. Then mother made her round, extending similar greetings. Finally, father would intone "Rozhdestvo Tvoye Khryste Bozhe" and we would join in, singing the sacred carol. Father toasted our good health and after a "clicking" of glasses, it was time for borshch with mushroom dumplings. We were off!

Our menu in order of presentation: kolach with honey; clear borsch with "vushka"; fish in aspic; "holubtsi," cabbage rolls; mushroom gravy; "varenyky" with potato and cheese stuffing; sauteed chopped onions in butter or oil; "varenyky" with sauerkraut filling; "uzvar," compote of dried fruit; "kutia," wheat pudding or frummery (English), tea and lemon or cherry preserves; "pampushky," yeast raised doughnuts filled with rose jam.

This menu contained all the dishes demanded by tradition, twelve, symbolizing the holy apostles. Christmas Eve is the last day of Advent, so all the dietary prohibitions against meat and dairy products still applied. Many households, more strict in their observances, would not consume any butter or cheese. In our household, it was possible to include a tablespoon of butter here, and a cup of cheese there, since mother's interpretation of rubrics always relied on the reasonableness of God (and not of the Church).

As you see, this is a complex menu, impossible for one person to prepare without planning. Of course, mother had help: us. We didn't start out as quality help, but we ended up that way!

Marta Pisetska Farley is the author of "Festive Ukrainian Cooking" (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1991.)

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