Italian Easter Tradition

Easter is a time of rebirth. A time to shed the heavy layers of winter physically, mentally and spiritually and open ourselves up to the new light and life of spring.

For many around the world, Easter is celebrated for it’s religious significance – the death of Christ and his rise again on the third day. Three days which span the breadth of human emotion, from the grief of his death to the joy of his rebirth.

Here in Italy, Easter is as important as Christmas.  I think it’s a time when the theme of rebirth, both in religion and in our natural world come together. Spring in central Italy is magical. Poppies transform surrounding fields into a sea of delicate, red swaying waves.

Wild asparagus is harvested and sure to show up on every restaurant’s menu in the month of April. And families gather to eat a savory-style of Easter bread made with cheese and served with hard-boiled eggs and prosciutto followed often by lamb or chicken.

Whatever is served, Easter Sunday lunch is always a long, lingering affair – with Easter bread taking center stage.

Italian Grandmas Rule

Each family has it’s own traditions. And just like every Mama and Nonna has their own special way of making the family sugo – or tomato sauce – each has their own special Easter bread recipe. Mine comes from my Italian grandma Carmela. The memory of arriving at my Italian grandparent’s house in Canada on Easter morning is as vivid today as it was when I was five years old.

Oh, the delicious smells coming out of that kitchen!! Spaghetti sauce bubbling on the wood stove, meats roasting in the oven.  Sweet and savory scents mingling together as I ran to meet my Grandmother who was always wearing some form of colorful apron. We were greeted with a big hug and a ‘butterfly’ kiss, a kind of stretching of the cheeks following by a big, wet kiss.

The festivities started with homemade hot chocolate and more than a few slices of toasted Easter bread. It was my favorite part of Easter. Far above the Easter egg hunts in my Grandpa’s rose garden, the big chocolate bunnies, and the amazing lunch feast that left us all drowsy with contentment.

It was the Easter bread I remember most. And the big room downstairs crowded with tables filled with the faces of those I loved – parents, brothers and sisters, grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins – all in various stages of eating, laughing, sharing stories and making memories.

My love of those days is so strong it is why every year since I was 15 until this day, just shy of 60, I carefully unpack my Grandma’s apron, one of the few things I asked to have after her passing. It doesn’t matter that the lilac, red, white and pink cotton apron is meant for someone barely 5ft tall.

It belonged to my powerhouse of a Grandma, a woman who dared to wear trousers in favor of dresses, smoked cigars, spoke her own mind and light up every room she walked into. I’m honored to wear it on this one day of the year.

And so every Good Friday, I carefully tie the apron around my waist and I set about making Easter bread. I carefully break the eggs, inhale the comforting, earthy smell of yeast coming to life and I knead the dough until it is a glossy mound of goodness. And as I knead, I think of all the years that have gone before me.

I watch the same hands that as a teenager managed to fling flour all over my parent’s kitchen, now expertly work away. I think of those Easter’s past and am thankful I had such love around me.

An Easter Promise

I made a promise to myself all those years ago that no matter what was happening in my life at this special time of year, whether work was hectic, family needs got in the way, even a pandemic that meant I was left without an oven for two months in my new home, I am making Easter bread.

If it means I have to make it in a hotpot as I did during lockdown, or stay up late into the night as I did in my early parenting days, I am making Easter bread.

It’s a tradition my husband Peter has come to love. I tell him it’s time. The bread is coming out of the oven. We gather in the kitchen, crack open the prosecco, cut into the still warm bread and pop it in the toaster. When it is just slightly golden, we slather it in butter and take our first bite – one of many to follow throughout the Easter weekend.

We then raise our glasses and we toast – to family, to health, to all those who have gone before us.

We toast to spring, to rebirth, to letting go of the old and welcoming the new.

And above all, we toast to love.

May you have a blessed Easter, full of love, laughter, chocolate and of course, lots of Easter bread.

Buona Pasqua a tutti