A German Christmas

by Mathew Ingram

We all have our own Christmas traditions, whether it's gingerbread houses or eggnog with schnapps in it, or recipes for our special inedible family Christmas cake. I got to experience some different Christmas traditions when I visited my parents in Germany after they moved back there in 1980. I was born in Germany in 1962, in a little town called Zweibrucken (Two Rivers) while my father was in the air force, but we only spent a year or so there before moving back to Canada. Then when I was 17, my parents decided to move back to Germany so my dad could work with NATO.

They lived in a small farming town called Malschenberg, about 15 kilometres south of Heidelberg. Their neighbours were an older German couple. He worked on his small farm and also worked as a custodian/janitor at the hospital. I remember going over to their house for a visit at noon, and we had a massive meal with meat pies and sausage and salad and tarts. I learned that it was typical for many German men to eat a huge lunch and then have a nap before going back to work. Then at night, when we would eat a big dinner, they would eat a very small meal — more like British tea.

Before we went over to visit, I practiced saying "Frohe Weihnachten" (fro-uh vine-ack-ten), which means "Merry Christmas”. I don't think I said it properly, but they seemed happy that I had tried :-). I also learned that German kids don't open their stockings on Christmas Eve, but on December 6th, which is the Feast of Saint Nicholas. The evening of December 5th is what (some) Germans call "Krampus”. Someone may dress up as a goat-horned demon and scare the children so they will behave, something that derives from a pagan tradition, I understand. While St. Nicholas rewards nice children by leaving presents, Krampus beats those who are naughty with branches and sticks. I came to Germany too late to see that, which is too bad because it sounds like fun (unless you are a young child, of course).

I learned that Germans more or less invented the Christmas tree, or "Tannenbaum”, a tradition that dates back to the 1400s, when the bakers in the town of Freiburg set up a tree in the town square and decorated it with fruits, nuts, and baked goods The children were allowed to remove and eat the treats on New Year's Day. German Christians set up their own personal versions of these trees not long after that, and eventually it caught on across Europe. In the 16th century, they started putting real candles on the trees. Most now use “electric candles” for tree decoration, but many continue to use real wax candles. (Germans use special candle holders and have learned how to do this safely; the tree is fresh and green (not dry) and the candles are not left to burn for a long time or without someone in the room. And a bucket of water near by!) German immigrants brought the tree tradition to North America in the 1800s.

I also learned that the idea of an "advent calendar," where you count down the days until Christmas, is also a tradition that emerged in Germany. German Lutherans would do this by either lighting a different candle every day or by marking lines on the wall with chalk (or both). Somehow that has become a Western tradition where you can get advent calendars with little doors which are opened to reveal a little bit of anything, from chocolate to different types of scotch.

While we have the big present opening on Christmas morning, many Germans do this on Christmas Eve, which is known as Heiliger Abend. Usually, families will spend the day decorating the tree and making food. At night, the children wait outside the room that has the Christmas tree in it until a bell rings, signaling that they can go in, and then comes the singing of Christmas carols and the opening of gifts (or "bescherung"). Some Germans also celebrate again on January 6th, the twelfth day after Christmas, which is known as Three Kings Day, or Dreikönigstag. Special Three King’s Day cakes are yeasted sweet breads studded with currants, raisins and candied lemon peel, topped with a crown, and containing a token baked in. If you encounter a small king or queen, or a bean, or a coin baked into your piece of Three King’s cake, you are king or queen of the day and endowed with various (small) privileges.

One of my favourite German Christmas traditions is the making and exchanging of cookies known as Lebkuchen. They are small cookies similar to ginger snaps, and they date back to the 14th century. They were originally made by monks, who used the same wafers they used for communion as the base for a sugar cookie. The ingredients usually include honey, spices such ginger or allspice, and sometimes nuts including almonds or walnuts. But there are a number of different versions made by people in different parts of Germany, including a harder version that is shaped like a heart and inscribed with messages in icing. Here is a recipe, if you are so inclined. Frohe Weihnachten!

Lebkuchen

¾ cup (250 g) honey
·       ¾ cup (170 g) dark brown sugar
·       4 tablespoons (57 g) unsalted butter, cut into chunks
·       1 large egg, beaten
·       2 teaspoons finely grated lemon zest
·       1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
·       3 cups (384 g) unbleached all-purpose flour
·       ¾ teaspoon baking soda
·       ½ teaspoon salt
·       2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
·       ½ teaspoon ground allspice
·       ½ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
·       ¼ teaspoon ground ginger
·       ¼ teaspoon ground cloves
·       oil for the bowl
Glaze:
·       1 cup (120 g) confectioner's sugar, sifted
·       1 large egg white
·       1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
·       ⅛ teaspoon fine sea salt

Prepare the Cookies: In a 1½ quart saucepan, combine the honey and brown sugar. Over medium-high heat, stir gently until the sugar begins to dissolve and the mixture just begins to come to a simmer. Remove the pan from the heat and stir in the butter. Let cool until warm to touch. Whisk in the egg and lemon zest and juice.

Stir together the flour, baking soda, salt, and spices.
Stir in the wet ingredients until a smooth, sticky dough forms. Scrape the dough into a lightly oiled ceramic bowl and cover with a plate - you want the dough to be able to breathe.

Allow the dough to "ripen" at cool room temperature for 1 to 2 days - do not refrigerate. (The large amount of honey and sugar will keep bacteria at bay.)

Position racks to the upper and lower thirds of the oven and preheat it to 350°F (180°C). Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.
Turn out the dough onto a well-floured work surface. Roll it out to a ¼-inch thickness. Use a bench scraper or thin spatula to get under the dough and scoot it around in the flour occasionally to prevent sticking. Cut shapes with 2-inch cutters and place 1 inch apart on the prepared baking sheets.

Bake until lightly browned, about 12 minutes, rotating the baking sheets from top to bottom and front to back halfway through the baking time. (Watch closely, as honey in the dough can make the edges catch and burn quickly.)

Prepare the Glaze: In a medium bowl, whisk together the confectioner's sugar, egg white, lemon juice, and salt for a smooth, thin, runny glaze. (Add a few drops of lemon juice, as needed, to achieve this consistency).
Let the cookies firm up and cool on the baking sheets for 5 minutes. Run a spatula under the cookies to gently loosen them from the parchment paper, leaving them on the sheets.
While still warm, brush the cookies with glaze and transfer to wire racks. Allow the cookies to cool and the glaze to dry completely.

The secret to a perfect lebkuchen texture is in the resting phase: place the cookies into airtight containers in layers, separated by parchment or wax paper. Tuck a wedge of apple in the container before sealing. Store in a cool place for at least 3 days, or up to 2 weeks, to allow the cookies to ripen once more before serving.

‘Tis the Schnartzenhaller Season

-Myra Hirschberg

I grew up in New York City, in a Jewish family that kept the Chanukah traditions, ignored the more religious aspects of Christmas and shrugged at its more secular manifestations – they took me to the Macy’s parade (once) and to sit on Santa’s lap (once), and somehow I ended up with a chocolate Santa every year. But primarily Chanukah was our thing -- lighting the candles of the menorah, eating potato latkes and unwrapping little gifts on each of the eight nights (small toys, crayons, treats... the Jewish equivalent of stocking stuffers). My parents considered it a holiday for young children - once there were no longer pre-teens in the family, gift giving fell by the wayside, and gradually so did most of the other customs.

As a young adult, I became more involved with the Jewish community and traditions, but I still gladly helped friends decorate their Christmas trees. Each year on Christmas Eve, I accompanied my secular aunt to Christmas Eve mass. We picked a different church each year. Our favourite was known as “the Actors’ Church”; many Broadway folks attended and participated in the rituals, and we found the Gospel readings particularly dramatic. On Christmas Day, we kept to the NYC Jewish ritual of a movie followed by Chinese food.

Tom grew up in a blend of the United Church and Old School Baptists, and he and his family did the usual Christmas things. When we got together, we realized that neither of us was particularly attached to our respective winter holidays, so we kept everything low key - we lit Chanukah candles, made latkes with friends, and hung out with other non-observant friends on Christmas Day.

However, in our household, we have adopted a new seasonal tradition: Schnartzenhaller! Invented by someone we heard on a CBC Radio call-in show, Schnartzenhaller was designed to give their mixed-heritage family some rituals that belonged to all of them. So we decided that was just what our household needed.

One advantage of a made-up holiday is that you can do as much or as little as you want, as well as change it at whim. So, we have celebrated Schnartzenhaller variously from the end of Chanukah till Christmas, or until the end of the 12 days of Christmas, or during the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day. Since the holiday has no rituals or traditions, timing doesn’t matter much -- which makes for a very relaxing and low-pressure holiday season. The one unchanging aspect is that we always make sure to invite friends over to eat “round foods and fried fruit.” These change from year to year; latkes of course are a round food; apple fritters are fried fruit, so those are constants, but after that, anything is possible. We have carefully avoided finding any symbolism whatsoever in these dishes.

Tom and I wish our KCC family and newsletter readers a lovely holiday season. Happy Chanukah, Merry Christmas….and, if those don’t resonate with you, have a joyous Schnartzenhaller!

Potato Latkes
-Myra Hirschberg

(based on my reconstruction of my grandmother’s no-recipe method)

1 1/2 lbs. russet potatoes - not necessary to peel

1 large onion, peeled
2 large eggs
1/4 cup all-purpose flour or matzah meal
2 teaspoons coarse kosher salt (or 1 teaspoon fine sea salt)
freshly ground black pepper
canola or other oil, for frying (or, to be traditional, schmaltz - rendered chicken fat - if your cholesterol level is too low.)

Using a food processor with a coarse grating disc, grate the potatoes and onion. (Alternatively, you can be traditional and grate them by hand.) Squeeze and wring the mixture through cheesecloth or a thin tea towel into a large bowl. Let the liquid sit in the bowl for 5 minutes. The potato starch will settle to the bottom. Drain the liquid, and add the potatoes and onions into the bowl with the starch.

Add the eggs, flour, salt, and pepper, and mix until the flour is absorbed.

In a medium cast iron or other heavy-bottomed frying pan over medium-high heat, pour in about ¼ inch of the oil. Once the oil is hot (a drop of batter placed in the pan should sizzle), use a heaping tablespoon or a 1/4 cup measure (depending on the size you want) to drop the batter into the hot pan, cooking in batches. Use a spatula to flatten and shape them into discs. When the edges of the latkes are brown and crispy, about 5 minutes, flip. Cook until the second side is deeply browned, about another 5 minutes. Transfer the latkes to a paper towel-lined cookie sheet (or a metal rack on a cookie sheet - stays crisper) Keep in a warm oven till ready to serve.

Repeat with the remaining batter.

Serve hot, with sour cream and/or apple sauce. Yield: About 2-3 dozen, depending on size.

The Real Story of Rudolph

We made the arrangement to meet in an abandoned underground parking lot. It would be ok if I recorded the conversation on my phone, as long as I didn’t use his name. I pulled in and parked. When my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw a man take a drag on his cigarette, red embers glowing. I flashed my headlights once, and he headed towards me. He was wearing a trench coat, fedora pulled down low. He climbed in. Without pleasantries, he demanded the money. I pulled off a C-note from a wad and told him he’d get another and the bonus after he’d finished spilling the beans. (Your intrepid editor will stop at nothing for a good story.) Let’s call him Deep Christmas.

Here is what he told me…

Editor: So what is Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer’s origin story?

Deep Christmas: Robert L. May was a Jewish copywriter at the department store chain Montgomery Ward in Chicago in 1939. The store manager decided the store would make its own children’s book as a holiday promotion to be distributed for free. The boss tapped May – he was always a hit at holiday parties for his way with limericks and parodies. He was told to make it about an animal.

E: Where’d he get the idea?

DC: He drew inspiration from his daughter’s interest in the reindeer at the zoo. May had always felt a bit of an outcast; he’d skipped a grade or two and was younger and smaller than his classmates, a nerdy kid who saw himself as a loser. He came up with the story of an underdog who was in the right place at the right time with the right skills. He wrote a poem in 89 couplets. His boss was unimpressed. “Can’t you come up with anything better?”, he asked. But May believed in the story and got a friend in the art department to draw some sketches and, together, they convinced the boss.

E: How was it received that Christmas?

DC: The booklet was a hit. Montgomery Ward printed more than 2 million copies that year. May got letters from children, teachers and store managers across the country.

E: Was it a one-off? Did they print copies every year?

DC: They stopped issuing after the first year only because of wartime restrictions on paper. They resumed in 1946 and it was more popular than ever.

E: Did the department store promote the story in other ways?

DC: In 1947, 8 years after first printing it, Montgomery Ward’s CEO gave May the rights to Rudolph, for reasons that aren’t entirely clear. May’s brother-in-law, Johnny Marks, was an up-and-coming songwriter, also Jewish.

[Editor’s note: Many of the most popular Christmas songs were written by Jews. For a highly entertaining account of why this was so, go to CBC Gem and search “Dreaming of a Jewish Christmas”. It's funny, the music is great and it's informative. Even if you are not interested in the topic, you will enjoy it.]

May talked him into writing the music for a song about Rudolph’s story. Marks shopped it around and it was picked up by Gene Autry, the famous singing cowboy. It came out in 1949, shooting to the top of Billboard’s country-western and pop charts. It remained a holiday hit for decades. That song sold more than 25 million copies and May’s family was taken care of financially through the end of his life and beyond.

E: How did the Christmas television special happen?

DC: In the early 60’s, Marks was a neighbour of Arthur Rankin, who produced children’s TV specials. He asked Marks if he could make a special with Rudolph’s story. By mid-1963 production started. GE was the sponsor and used the characters in the story in the accompanying commercials.

E: The poem is short. How long was the special?

DC: It was an hour long. They hired an animation writer, Tony Peters, to expand the story, using its themes of individuality and alienation. They hired a pioneering Japanese filmmaker, Tadahito Mochinaga, who had developed the first puppet-based stop-motion animation in China and Japan. His technique was an unusually fluid and true-to-life animation with subtle movements; everything had a solid, touchable quality. Mochinaga travelled to a deer sanctuary in Nara, Japan to sketch and study a herd of deer. The puppets had long legs, felt hides and huge, anime eyes. Each second of film took 24 frames of animation. The music was recorded in England. There’s also a Canadian connection.

E: Oh?

DC: With the exception of Burl Ives, all the voices were recorded by Canadian actors in Toronto, including Paul Soles, who was the voice of Hermy, one of Santa’s elves who really wanted to be a dentist.

E: When was it finished?

DC: It first aired in 1964 and was so popular, it has been rebroadcast every year since, making it the longest-running Christmas special in history.

E: How has the special stood the test of time?

DC: It’s got good messages: Be yourself, don’t worry if you don’t fit in, strength in teamwork, courage, perseverance. The show’s “scary” villain, the Abominable Snow Monster, becomes a friend in the end. There are some outdated gender representations and sexist comments that parents can discuss with kids. But the main messages are timeless.

That’s it, that’s all I got.

E: (Peeling off another bill.) Here you go. A deal’s a deal.

DC: What’s the bonus ya promised? I gave ya the good stuff.

E: Here’s a plate of my world-famous Scottish shortbread. Merry Christmas… or Happy Hannukah... or Jolly Schnartzenhaller.

DC: (munching) Om nom nom… Schnartzenhaller?

Some Inspiring Words:

To get full value of a joy you must have somebody to divide it with.
-Mark Twain