Easter in Quarantine

Easter used to be a constant thing in my life. Up until my young adulthood, it was always held at my grandparents’ house. In college, the celebration shifted to my aunts’ houses on alternating years. My mom came from a big Polish family – she was the middle of seven children – so, Easter was a BIG DEAL. An average gathering was about thirty people, and there was always a huge spread consisting of eggs (hard boiled and scrambled, possibly deviled some years), pierogies, kielbasa, chrzan, golombki, beets, babka, ham, turkey, hash… and some things that were not traditional polish, like soda bread, banana bread, fruit salad, etc. It was a FEAST like none other.

Easter got weird in my mid-adulthood. First came the year I was pregnant- I crossed the 38 week line on Easter Day, and my doula recommended I stay close to home. In my late-pregnancy nesting insanity, I cooked a Polish brunch for my spouse and myself. So, you know… enough food for six.

Little Chef’s first Easter was the last hurrah for my Grandmother after not hosting for years. She was selling her house, and it was the last scheduled gathering there. Bittersweet.

For Little Chef’s second Easter, my mother had broken her leg and was temporarily living at my grandmother’s apartment. I brought full Polish Easter on the road to serve to my immediate family, my    mom, and my brother while the rest of the extended clan gathered at my aunt’s. In a strange, dazed sort of way, I was VERY proud of myself for pulling that off on incredibly short notice.

Little Chef’s third Easter was fairly “normal.” We went to my Aunt’s house and picked up my Mom along the way. Unbeknownst to us, that would be my mom’s last Easter.

In 2019, we had a barely 2-month old baby and we’d only been in our new house for 3 months, but we hosted Easter for my in-laws, and I cooked a feast.

Then…. this year.

You know that monologue the Grinch has about Christmas coming “without ribbons, without tags, without packages, boxes, or bags?” That’s how Easter felt this year. Holy Week services were held over Zoom. I spent more time in front of a computer than I think I ever have.

I was hell-bent, though, on having a special day for Easter. We dressed up. I had managed to stock all of the essentials by the big day – we had mimosas, pierogies, kielbasa, eggs, and babka. I decided to skip making a ham, and then my neighbors mentioned that they had too much ham. We traded pierogies and babka for some ham, and everyone’s day got more delicious.

The babka was the real triumph; it was so hard to find yeast, because everyone went crazy when it was clear that we were locking down, so there was a run on it. I ended up getting a two-pound package from a wholesaler! I have plenty of yeast for the forseeable future.

If you’re looking for a good babka recipe, this one is the closest I’ve found to my great-grandmother’s babka. My family came from a part of Poland that is now part of the Ukraine (my great-grandmother left when World War 1 was brewing, so the lines were different then.). I had a hand-written copy of the original recipe, but it’s buried somewhere. This one is delicious. If you’re wondering, yes, you can substitute all-purpose flour for the bread flour. I never bother with the bread flour.

I hope with all of my heart that by next Easter, this is all behind us. That we can gather and feast and relax and laugh. It was strange and and somehow fitting to be celebrating the resurrection in the middle of a plague. I’m proud of pulling off the celebration that we did, and I’m glad we have these strings of tradition, of familiar and comforting foods, that can still be there in the midst of these crazy times. Having a touchstone of normalcy in these days is worth its weight in gold.