She’s been gone many years now, but every December I can still hear my mother’s voice in my head talking about the panettone. “Would you like this nice panettone?” “Here, take this lovely panettone home!” She would offer, urge, somewhat cajole, and practically push the overly large package of “nice panettone” into your hands. I’m not sure if this is an Italian thing or just a mother thing, the Hand-off of the Panettone, but it has become a bit of a family joke, one that causes us to smile inwardly, or sometimes laugh outwardly in remembrance.

For those who might not be familiar with panettone, it is cylindrical-shaped, dome-topped sweet Italian cake-like bread filled with raisins and candied citrus, that is traditionally enjoyed around the Christmas holidays. I have to say right up front that I do not like raisins in my cakes, cookies or breads and am also not fond of fruitcake. I feel panettone might fall ever so slightly under the umbrella of being a fruit-cake, of sorts.

Despite letting my mother know year after year that I seriously dislike panettone, a great big one would usually arrive in the mail anyway. If I saw her around the holidays, the push to take the panettone home was inevitable. On reflection, it was similar to her insistent (and in retrospect, deeply touching) offer of Aunt Rose’s “lovely boots” (see These Lovely Boots 1/24/2011 for reference.) I think she honestly could not believe, nor accept, that I did not like and would actually reject the panettone. The premise seemed almost impossible to her.

A few weeks ago while out shopping, I found myself face to face with an entire shelf of assorted panettone. There were not just the usual raisin ones, but some that were filled with flavored creams, and a few personal-sized panettone that had chocolate chips instead of raisins. Although none of them appealed to me – as a matter of fact I could feel a distaste that was slightly physical – I purchased one of the small ones anyway, in order to give it another chance. I guess on some level I still wanted to please my mom, even if she wasn’t around to know it. What I discovered, even sans-raisins, is that I remain Not a Fan. Even without raisins, all panettone tastes like a stale sponge to me.

The thing about being gifted a panettone when you don’t like panettone, is trying to get rid of it. It is the hot-potato of gifts. Aside from the fact that there are very few people I’ve known who admit to liking panettone, the packaging itself even before you open it is unwieldy. They come in these giant boxes that do not fit in a cabinet, so they are out there taking up counter space. If you have ever attempted to regift a panettone to someone else, you will discover is not an easy thing to do – nobody wants them. Which has me wondering…. who is actually buying all these holiday panettone displayed on the shelves?

A few days ago my brother teasingly asked me “Are you going to have the panettone?” and we both cracked up. Actually, the very word “panettone” has the capacity to send me into hysterical laughing under the right circumstances. Only one sister enjoys panettone, but she has to buy a small one meant only for one person, as her family will not eat it either (and they make fun of her). This sister has a theory that our mother appreciated the panettone almost like an art form – the festive printed box topped with a ribbon and the beautiful domed shape of the large pastry within as a symbol of the holiday. I’m thinking she is probably correct about that. I can’t help but remember our mother’s holiday efforts fondly. But still…..

It has been many years since I’ve had to deal with a gifted panettone…… until now.

A couple of days ago my neighbor received one. Perhaps it’s speculation, but I’m guessing the person who gave it to her might have also been the recipient of it as a gift as well. My neighbor is on a strict no-sugar diet, so she asked me if I would like to take the panettone. I groaned inwardly. I told her I really hate raisins in my baked goods. She said she didn’t think there were any raisins in it, and that maybe it would be good toasted. Perhaps I was the default person to ask about taking the panettone, as her family probably had no interest in it either. I could see my mother’s eager, loving face in my mind talking about the panettone. I reluctantly took it home.

The label on the bottom listing the ingredients had such small writing that I didn’t notice (or maybe I didn’t want to notice) that the second ingredient is indeed raisins. I suddenly feel weighted down by the panettone, in possession of this holiday albatross.

Christmas is only a few days away and the tremendous urge to hand it off to the next person presses upon me – not that panettone only can be eaten at Christmas, although the timing seems to go hand in hand. It seems wrong to throw it out. Perhaps it could be donated to a soup kitchen or community holiday meal – but would anybody there even like it? I texted my daughter and asked if she would like me to bring it. She replied with a quick “No thanks!” to my offer.

I have a few days to figure this out. Anybody want a panettone?

~*~