Christmas Bread

Late Christmas morning and presents are opened around the little indigenous magnolia, decorated with various African and Eurocentric ornaments, with coffee, Christmas bread and glasses of bubbly.

My mom started the bread yesterday afternoon and by evening (cocktail hour, as you can see) it had risen and was ready to be pummeled and rolled.

(Vince had a dry Grey Goose martini, I had straight Noilly Prat dry vermouth with ice...The cook had a whisky and soda). The bread is a tradition going as far back as I can remember. Yeasty, laced with glazed fruits and nuts, and a little bit of the spice-union upon which empires have been based: cloves, cinnamon, allspice.

Flattened and filled it is rolled up.

And tucked nose to tail like a sleepy dachshund.

Put into its tin and slashed, and ju-ju'd to rise properly again.

When it has, it is baked.

Slathered with butter, hot, it is delicious.