Remembering My Mom With Her Baba au Rhum

The holidays are a joyful time to gather with family and friends. But for those of us who have lost a loved one, it can also be a time of year that brings great sadness, as we feel the absence of someone who should be there.

Four years ago, I lost my mom. Christmas has not been the same since. I still cherish the holidays, but it's hard to feel the kind of carefree exuberance that we all had when she was around. She took a little of the Christmas magic with her when she went, and it hasn't been easy trying to bring it back. Luckily, she left me with a special baking tradition that helps me in that department - the department of Christmas exuberance and cheer, that is.

You see, each Christmas, my mom would make Baba Au Rhum. You're probably wondering what in the world is a baba. Well. A baba, my dear friends, is a magical thing. It consists of a light, golden, brioche-like sweet bread that is generously (in the case of my mom's version, very generously!) soaked in rum syrup. In fact, my mom always insisted that the baba must be soaked with the syrup all the way through, like a sponge. Her babas really packed a punch. My uncle jokingly likes to call them "little orbs of drunk" and I'm proud to say I've continued the annual tradition of getting everyone slightly tipsy on Christmas dessert.

Along with making babas for our family, the week before Christmas, my mom would make them for her knitting circle, a group that meets every week at the wool store where she worked. I decided I wanted to continue her tradition and whenever I'm home for Christmas, I bring a tray of Baba Au Rhum to her knitting comrades. And though I get a wave of sadness in my heart as I step through the door, I am always greeted with laughter and cheer, the familiar click of knitting needles, and a warm crackling woodstove. The babas are welcomed and savored, and the knitters fond memories of my mom warm my heart.

Sinking my teeth into a baba oozing with rum sauce was always one of the great delights of the season. But now there is something more. The flavors remind me of my moms twinkling eyes and her love of sharing delicious treats with family and friends, as well as her passionate belief that food is something worthy of our time, our energy and, at times, even our political activism, as we ensure that what we eat is produced in ways that are healthy for us and for the planet. Through this special baba tradition she has passed on, my moms spirit lives on and a little bit of her Christmas magic is with us. Each year, I take great pride and comfort in making her babas as well as her tourtière recipe.

If you are missing a loved one this holiday season, my heart goes out to you. I encourage you to prepare one of the traditional holidays recipes they used to make. I can think of no better way to honor their memory and find comfort in the familiar flavors. May you all have a peaceful, joyful, and magical holiday season. See you in the new year!