Last weekend, I made我最喜欢的胡萝卜蛋糕为复活节。今天是东正教复活节，这是复活节我一起长大的，感觉右再次分享一些我与节日强烈关联。我不能分享任何东西，但tsoureki（τσουρέκι）。
Tsoureki doesn’t have to be Easter bread. It’s a sweet, Greek holiday bread that’s also shared at other times of the year. When I was growing up, we got it twice yearly: once on the first day of each New Year, and once on Greek Easter. The New Year’s loaf had a coin inside, wrapped in wax paper. My mom and I would cut a slice for each member of our nuclear and extended family. If the coin landed in your slice, it was thought to bring a year of filled with especially good luck. (Once, when I complained to my mom that I never got the coin, she told me that her father had sardonically joked that it was actually a bad omen.)
At Easter, we got tsoureki with red-dyed hard boiled eggs baked right into the bread. The bread came from our local Greek bakery, but my Yaya also made a giant batch of the eggs for my favorite game. This was a game so fun that I didn’t mind the fact that I had to stay awake until midnight every Greek Easter (I was a morning person even then). It consisted of everyone picking an egg, and then cracking that egg against the egg of another person at the holiday table. If you initiated the crack, then your egg would descend from the top, and you’d exclaim “Chistos Anesti!” (Χριστός Ανέστη, “He is risen!”)
If your egg stayed intact, while the other person’s cracked and caved inward, he or she would then try cracking the good side of the broken egg over the side of your egg that had been lucky. The person would respond, “Alithos Anesti!” (Aληθώς ανέστη, “He is risen indeed!”). And if your egg cracked first, you’d favor your remaining good side for the next round.
It all sounds pretty confusing now that I write it out, but it was fun. I remember the few times when I had an egg that seemed indestructible, how exciting it was to keep testing its strength. I especially remember my grandmother’s loud, jubilant cries of “Christos Anesti!” and “Alithos Anesti!” No one laughed more than she did when an egg was either especially sturdy or especially feeble. My Yaya played this game the way she did everything: larger than life, full of gusto.
What I can bring to the table is my crazy love of bread baking, which isn’t my mom’s thing and wasn’t my Yaya’s thing, either. This is a strange year for me to take up the torch of holiday observances, since I’m not spending Greek Easter with any of my family physically. But the crisis has given me time to reflect on what matters, and this has included looking back on my upbringing and appreciating some traditions that I’ve lost touch with. It makes me want to do something symbolically for this quarantined Greek Easter, and sharing tsoureki is what I’m best suited to do.
I’m not attempting to share a definitive tsoureki here by any means; that would be impossible, since it’s a bread that probably varies from family recipe box to recipe box. I’m sharing the tsoureki that’s most like the one I remember from childhood: light and tender, sweet but not dessert-y, fragrant with the smell of mahleb but very, very light on the mastic (which I find overpowering when it’s more than a pinch). Our tsoureki didn’t include citrus zest, so my recipe doesn’t either, though I’ve tried including it, and it’s a nice addition.
I’ve had a Goldilocks experience testing this recipe. Some batches were a little too sweet, or not sweet enough; sometimes I added too much mahlep, which my mom doesn’t like in big amounts, and sometimes it wasn’t even detectable. I think I finally got it right, but of course my mom will be the one to tell me whether that’s true.
我找不到任何地方mahlep相当接近我引向这个节日，似乎所有，但在网上被抢购一空。Under normal circumstances, I’m lucky enough to live in a city with tons of ethnic markets that have amazing spice selections, but when I tried, the two Middle Eastern markets that I know carry mahlep couldn’t deliver (and they’re much too far for me to walk).
我正要放弃传betway必威体育平台统tsoureki，当我做了最后一次谷歌搜索，发现The Greek Market在佛罗里达州。我很高兴地发现，他们可以运送到纽约，我下令从他们我mahlep，这是我tsoureki实验，这个配方是怎么来的。
Happy Greek Easter to all who celebrate. Χριστός Ανέστη! And I’ll see you later this week.