The Thing About Traditions

 

December always calls to me with memories of the sweets I grew up with, particularly star cookies. We call them star cookies, but in Armenian they’re called kurabia, soft buttery cookies that melt in your mouth. Ours were special because they contained atar of roses, a highly concentrated “essence” of rose. They say it takes 1000 petals to make one drop. And the roses have to be picked at just the right time of day, late enough that the fragrance is full, but not so late that the sun has burned it away. Our special vial of atar of roses came to my parents in the 1950s. It was a gift from one of my grandfather’s sisters whose husband was successful in the new country and could afford this rare and expensive flavoring. The small vial was only about 1/3 full at this time. It was so potent that my mother flavored several dozen cookies by sticking a toothpick into the vial and then swirling it around in the dough. The 1/3-full vial lasted almost thirty years.

 

And then come the memories of  locum, flavored with oil of Bergamot. Not the candy quickly thickened with gelatin, no, this was made the old way with cornstarch, stirring constantly for two hours. We all took turns.

 

But traditions change and grow with each family. Now the star cookies come in two forms, the traditional five-pointed star, and also a batch with six points, in honor of the Jewish daughter-in-law. And we visit my half-Norwegian cousins who have lots of decorations and memories from Norway. And the family keeps growing and bringing new ways to celebrate. We’re a true melting pot. Between the blood lines and the airlines we’ve added Puerto Rico, Scotland, Chumash Indians, the Philippines and Spain, as well as a few memories from those who lived in Greece and Zaire. I’m sure I’m forgetting someone or somewhere.

 

Traditions are wonderful ---- to keep, and to create!

 

(originally published in "Culturally Speaking", the newsletter of the Earth Cultures Project.)

 

 

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