A Christmas Memory

 A Christmas Memory

I began paging through my time worn Christmas Cookies notebook to decide on which cookies to make. That’s when I came across Signora Cinque’s pignoli cookie recipe. I smiled as I recalled the Christmas memory that always warms my heart. Although it occurred some forty  years ago it will always seem like it happened yesterday.

It was when I lived in Positano, an enchanting village on Italy’s Amalfi coast. At that time Positano was a quiet hamlet nestled along the coast. Neighbors knew each other and very few tourists visited except during the month of August, the month when many Italians left cities in the north to vacation near the sea. I lived in Positano for over two years. I rented a small house from an American woman who ran the local art school. The walls and ceiling were decorated with paintings, caricatures, and murals that Ms. Lewis’ artist friends gave her when they visited. I was living in a whimsical museum with the bonus of spectacular views of the Terranean Sea from the veranda. 

The week before Christmas was my son Jude’s third birthday. I baked a big vanilla cake with creamy chocolate frosting from a box of Betty Crocker cake mix I carried all the way from Brooklyn to Italy. Once baked and cooled, I stuck lots of colorful candles on top.  With great care I covered it and balanced it on the back rack of my Vespa. I anchored the cakebox with bags of paper party hats and party favors. Fearful of toppling over on one of the hair-pin turns along the road, I drove up the winding mountain path with great caution. My goal was to arrive at to my son’s school for the surprise birthday celebration with the cake in one piece.

Success!

I carried everything into Suore Catherina’s (Sister Catherine’s) office. Together we adorned the play room with decorations and the birthday cake. Soon the class of twelve, three-year-olds, dressed in their Grembule (little blue school smocks) walked in. Suore Catherina gracefully motioned to the class. The movement of her arm looked as though she was conducting a symphony orchestra. The children knew the signal and began to sing Buon Complianno a Te with great enthusiasm.  Jude giggled and laughed and the children held hands in a circle and danced around him as they continued to sing Buon Compliano a Te … Happy Birthday to You … many times.  It was a happy surprise birthday indeed and thanks to Betty Crocker the cake was a huge hit.

But my heart sank as I drove my old Vespa back down the mountain. I thought of Christmas fast approaching.  Money was scarce during those days of living abroad as a student and what came in went out to pay for the basics of rent and food. I didn’t have one extra penny to buy Jude the smallest present or even a Christmas tree.  Don't get me wrong, he wasn't a child who wanted two million toys. He didn't even have a Christmas list. However, there was a shiny red fire truck in the window of the toy store next door to Ciro’s Café. Whenever we passed the store, he’d run up to the window and press his nose against the glass to see the bright fire engine. It wasn’t a big truck, not one he could sit on or ride. It was just the perfect size for a three-year-old boy to play with.  It didn't occur to him to ask for it, but I knew that truck held a child’s sense of wonder and magic for him.

Even though there were no extra dollars for extravagances like an eight-dollar toy, I decided that I would buy the firetruck with some of the monthly allowance check I received from family in the States. But the clock was ticking. It was so close to Christmas Eve and the check hadn’t arrived. There was a major strike at the main post office in Napoli that slowed all mail deliveries. One got used to strikes in Italy. They happened on a regular basis but not usually so close to a national holiday.

Christmas Eve arrived and still … no check. 

That morning my friend Cesare, the local dentist, stopped by to wish us Merry Christmas and see our American Christmas tree. I tried to lie about why there was no tree. Cesare was very “forbo” (meaning shrewd in Italian). He said he was on his way up the mountain to cut a tree for his grandmother. Would I come along to Signora Volpe's farm to help him pick a tree? Sure. When we got there Cesare insisted we cut two trees, one for grandmother, the other for us, his American friends. He said this was just in case I didn’t have time to get back up there later. I was very grateful. We hauled the trees down the mountain road and I hid our tree on the terrace.

For the next couple hours, I cut and pasted Christmas ornaments with colored paper and popcorn and decorated the tree while Jude played at a friend’s house. Christmas would be wonderful after all!

Later that afternoon a special delivery package arrived from the States. It contained a big red Christmas stocking filled to the brim with surprise presents for my little son, and the check! THE CHECK! 

 I ran down the winding road, feet barely touching the ground in hopes the toy store would still be open.  But the sign on the door read CHUISO PER NATALE (Closed for Christmas). A tear made its way down my cheek as I stood looking in the window.  At that moment Signora Cinque walked by and noticed my sadness. She grabbed my hand and without a word we climbed up many steep steps to Fabio's house.  Fabio was the proprietor of the store. Signora Cinque urged me to tell him the dilemma. O Dio Mio! he exclaimed and, in a flash, he grabbed keys off a hook and the three of us flew down the 200 steps to the store. As we ran, Fabio chided me for not coming to him sooner. When we entered the shop the bright red fire truck seemed to wink at me saying “Finalamente!” (Finally!). Fabio tied a big red ribbon around the truck and I hurried home to place it under the decorated tree. I will never forget the happy face of my little son … bursting with delight over a shiny red firetruck.  I hold the joy of that Christmas forever close to my heart

Christmas afternoon Signora Cinque stopped by with a batch of the pignoli cookies that had put her on the map, up and down the Amalfi coast. When I make them at Christmas I smile, with a tear of joy and remembrance.

Jude at school wearing his in his Grembule

SIGNORA CINQUE'S CHRISTMAS PIGNOLI COOKIES

24 cookies                 350 oven

½ C flour

½ C sugar & ½ C XX sugar

pinch of salt

1 7 oz. tube almond paste

Grated orange zest from 1 orange

1 egg white

1 generous cup pine nuts (pignoli) lightly toasted

1. With electric mixer or in food processor, beat all ingredients, one at a time, except for nuts.

2. Divide batter into 24 rounds. Freeze for 5 minutes.

4. Flatten each round slightly and roll in toasted nuts.

5. Place on parchment or a Silpat and bake for 15-18 minutes or until golden in color. Cool on rack before serving.