Category Archives: Book of Days Calendar

Your April Book of Days

Rain

They say April showers bring May flowers, and so this month’s Convivio Book of Days calendar features rain as its cover star. This would seem to dictate what the May Book of Days calendar will bring, but we shall see what we shall see. Procrastinator that I am, I rarely create the next month’s calendar until the last day I can.

We come to some interesting days in April. All Fools Day came and went, of course, but next up is Lady Day––the Feast of the Annunciation––and that’s all well and good, but here’s the odd (and perhaps wonderful) thing about Lady Day: In Sweden, where the day is called Vårfrudagen, it is a day to eat waffles. And so tomorrow, the Fourth of April, this year at least, is an excellent day to have waffles for dinner (should you be looking for an excuse for a waffle dinner). We also have St. Mark’s Eve, with its bizarre divinations in the romance department, and Walpurgisnacht or May Eve: the traditional segue to summer. I’ll be in touch as these days approach (including the reasoning behind tomorrow’s waffle suppers). And we’ll see what May brings when it gets here.

 

Your March Book of Days

FloridaLilac

Stepping out onto our front porch these days I am met with a purple glow. There is a Florida Lilac vine (Petrea volubilis) growing up the trunk of one palm tree there to the right, and it is quite a year for the Florida Lilac. It is stunning and beautiful and it makes you want to stay put and behold it for just a while before you head off to your day. That’s a wonderful thing.

That same Florida Lilac is the cover star of your March Convivio Book of Days calendar. It is the month of Easter and Purim and of many saints’ days designed to give us breathing room in the austerity of Lent. There was St. David’s Day on the First, and then St. Chad, and now, on the Third, St. Winnal. Do you know the old weather rhyme?

First comes David,
Next comes Chad,
Then comes Winnal,
Roaring mad.

If the weather today is “roaring mad” where you are, now you know why. Blame it on Winnal. So perhaps you had Welsh Cakes for St. David’s Day; later in the month, there are more saints’ days that bring good food: St. Patrick’s Day, of course, but also the lesser known St. Joseph’s Day. Well, lesser known if you are not of Italian descent, and if you are, it may be the other way around. St. Joseph brings Italian pastries that the purists amongst us will eat only once a year, for St. Joseph’s Day. And then there’s St. Urho’s Day, which I never would have known of were it not for the fact that I live in a place that is home to the globe’s second largest population of Finns. I only learnt of St. Urho by going to the local Finlandia Days celebration, which back then was held here at Bryant Park on the lagoon. Somewhere in between the wife-carrying contest and a performance by the accordion orchestra, someone got to talking to me about St. Urho, who drove all the grasshoppers out of Finland… and if you think that sounds a lot like some other saint who drove all the snakes out of Ireland, well, yes, you’d be right.

The stories behind all these good fellows will unfold as the month progresses. It is, as well, the month of springtime by the almanac, and the balance of day and night no matter where we live on this planet. That, too, is a wonderful thing.

Now is the time to order from the Convivio Book of Days Catalog for your Easter celebrating! We have handpainted Pysanki eggs made for us by a family in Russia (the Gussaroffs) and traditional handmade wooden bunnies and paper eggs canisters from Germany––the kind you open up and fill with jelly beans or malted eggs. All these things, straight from my childhood to you. ~ John

 

 

Decadent Desserts (and Your February Book of Days)

Sweethearts

For you today, a belated gift: Your Convivio Book of Days Calendar for February. Perhaps someone more generous will give you another gift today: minne de virgine, a delectable Italian pastry made especially for this day, St. Agatha’s Day. Then again, should your friends be susceptible to fits of embarrassment, you may want to just go find them for yourself. The pastries, made from sponge cake with a mound of sweet ricotta cream on top, then covered in marzipan and dotted with a cherry, are meant to evoke a certain part of the female anatomy. They are the “breasts of the virgin,” the breasts of Sant’Agata, a specialty of Sicily and especially of Catania, where Agata lived in the third century.

The pastries come from the story of her martyrdom for her faith: The Roman governor of Catania became enthralled with the beauty of Agata. Agata, however, one of the secret upstart Christians in town, had taken a vow of chastity to protect her virginity. The Roman governor would have none of it, though, and continued his advances. Agata continued to reject him to protect her faith… and for this she died. The Roman governor had her killed in a gruesome death that it pains me to describe for you. Yet I fear I must… for it’s the only reason these delicious minne de virgine make any sense: he had Agata’s breasts severed before roasting her above a bed of live coals. I told you it was gruesome.

Sant’Agata is now patroness of Catania. She is invoked for protection from breast disease (for obvious reasons) as well as from volcanic eruptions (again… well, use your imagination, as this may perhaps be a combination of both elements of her martyrdom).

Eventually, it was the nuns of Catania who began baking the confections that we enjoy each Fifth of February. It’s part of what makes Catholicism so incredibly fascinating, especially in Italy. Marzipan pastries in the shape of breasts made by Catanese nuns? This is probably a big part of what makes Protestants so nervous around Catholics. We are a somewhat dramatic people.

The celebration in Catania has been going on for a few days now, but it all culminates tonight with processions through the city of large carriages and spectacular candelore––enormous towers with lit candles depicting scenes from St. Agatha’s life. The candelore are paraded and danced through the streets of Catania to shouts of “Evviva Sant’Agata!” by men in full costume, the towers hoisted upon their shoulders. (Again, not for the faint of heart.)

My Italian professor, Myriam Swennen-Ruthenberg, should she be reading this, might be thinking now of a famous scene in Giuseppe di Lampedusa’s novel Il Gatopardo (The Leopard, in its English translation) in which Don Fabrizio looks over a vast table of Sicilian desserts that include these minne de vergine, the breasts of St. Agatha. He asks for some and receives them and he beholds them on his plate. He thinks of the famous paintings of St. Agatha presenting her own severed breasts on a plate. He asks, “Why ever didn’t the Holy Office forbid these puddings when it had the chance?”

Our image today is inspired by the cover star of our Convivio Book of Days Calendar for February: It is the 150th anniversary this year of the Conversation Heart––a famous American candy, to be sure: sweet, simple, decidedly non-dramatic. A confection, one might safely guess, not invented by the chaste nuns of Catania.