As a boy there was nothing more magical than the holiday season. Now having reached a certain age I remember those times with the warm glow of nostalgia.
My mother was the best baker I have ever known. She made fabulous cinnamon rolls, coffee cakes, cookies and pies. My favorite was her fruit cake which was unlike any other I’ve experienced. The recipe was passed down from Dutch ancestors who are also very much a part of my Christmas memories. I dearly wish I had that recipe.
Those boyhood holidays were a rich blend of old world and American traditions celebrated by relatives speaking Dutch and English often in the same sentence. All utterly gone now and greatly missed.
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