Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth
In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.
Food to Make the Sun Rise
Magic Most Sympathetic
Here, try some of my grandmother's lemon-poppy seed cake.
If you don't, the Sun may not rise in the morning.
If you're reading this, I'm betting that you probably have a food that it wouldn't be Yule without. What's yours?
For me, it's my legacy poppy seed cake. I only bake it at Yule. Bright with lemon zest, dark with poppy seed: a dark-light balance of bitter and sweet. (Very much like life, that.) It's got a lovely gritty texture, and as for that melting lemon glaze over top....
And seriously, if you don't have some at Yule, the Sun will not come up.
One year, I had dental surgery in early December. Afterward, they gave me the list of post-surgical food taboos: no nuts, no seeds.
Seriously? Hey, man, I'm from Pittsburgh. F*cking Yule is coming, and you're telling me that I can't have poppy seed?!?
At this remove of time, I can no longer remember whether or not I followed the doctor's orders. In retrospect, I'm guessing that I probably had at least the obligatory ritual bite.
After all, the Sun did come up the next day.
Poppy seed: black as rich, dark Earth, bitter as love, plentiful as stars or grains of sand.
As symbols of abundance go, it doesn't get much better than that.
So, think of it as magic most sympathetic. Go ahead: make that Sun rise.
Seriously, dude: do you really want to risk it?
If you'd like to try it for yourself, you can find this recipe—and many more—in The Prodea Cookbook: Good Food from Paganistan's Oldest Coven.
Don't say I didn't warn you.
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I used to make rum balls the last Sunday in October. I left them in the cookie tin until Thanksgiving. I would only eat two of them a day from that point on. They kept getting stronger and stronger in flavor.