Honey Balls- A Very Important Part of Our Holiday by Debbie Gasser

Debbie Gasser is a 53 year old wife, mother and grandmother from New Jersey. She is attending Fairleigh Dickinson University and will be graduating this year with a Bachelor’s Degree in Business Management. Debbie works as a supervisor of nineteen associates who process customer’s payments. Her day can start as early as in the office by 3:30am due the early time the mail is delivered. Because of her unique hours she is appreciative of the time she has with her family. She is sometimes is on the opposite schedule as her family so when she is with them she appreciates every second! In her spare time she enjoys spending time with her family, golfing, crafts, reading and goes to the beach whenever possible.

I can remember when I was young, going to my girlfriend Carolyn’s house on a Saturday morning. Her Nanny, or grandmother, always brought home made honey balls or Struffoli, . They were always in a Tupperware bowl and first thing we’d do when we got in the kitchen was turn the bowl upside down so all the honey would come to the top of the honey balls. As we fixed our cups of teas we’d let the bowl sit upside down, then right as we sat down we would flip the bowl right side up. As we took the top off we’d have to be careful not to lift too quickly because the honey would be everywhere. We’d sit and enjoy these crispy little fried dough balls covered in honey every week. We never got tired of them. I didn’t realize I would one day recreate these.

Years later my girlfriend Carolyn’s family took me in since my parents were no longer interested in being my parents. I never lived with them but they watched over me and were always there to help me whenever I needed them. I knew at the time but really knew since my daughters have both grown that parenting doesn’t stop just because your children turn eighteen. I was a young adult and her parents were the only real parents and family I knew. My daughters know they are not my blood parents and family but only know them as Pop and Nana, their aunts, uncles and cousins, they could not love them or be more loved if I was born into this family. I always say thanks for these people that took in this stray and loved me.   

Years ago, I remember the tradition started where the entire family went to Carolyn’s house for Christmas Eve. The whole family got there about 6:00pm and we started off with some sort of seafood appetizer and antipasto. This dinner was always Dinnerof the Seven Fishes. Traditionally, the Dinner of the Seven Fishes is representative of the seven sacraments or the seven days of creation. The reason didn’t matter to me, I just loved being invited as part of the family, and not having a real family of my own I relished any chance to be part of one.

Everyone was given something to bring. My adopted Dad always made the best antipasto; I’m getting hungry just thinking about it. There were roasted peppers, small cubes of provolone, parmesan cheese, marinated artichoke hearts, mushrooms, and olives you name it, and it was there. Even anchovies which I was never brave enough to try. There was dried cod, monk fish, flounder, shrimp, crab, if it was at one time in the ocean, we had it.

I was charged with bringing dessert. I didn’t just want to bring anything; I wanted it to be really something special. I went looking through the cook books I had. Most of the cook books I owned were those compilation cook books I bought from schools for fund raisers. I think my daughter’s school even made one. In one of them I found a recipe for Italian Knot cookies and Struffoli. I was elated. I was English but my adopted family was Italian so I wanted to bring something that was of Italian decent. I looked at these two recipes and knew what I would bring.

The Italian knot cookies were no difficulty at all and were completed in no time. The Struffoli was something different. The recipe said on a wooden board I should make the six cups of flour into a mound and lightly press down on the top to create and little cup at the top. That was where I was supposed to crack the five raw eggs. I’ve since seen other recipes that have so many ingredients in them like citrus zest or even liquor, from author and chefs like GiadaDeLaurentis, and Mario Batali, but my found recipe was simple, eggs, flour and a little water. I tried, it, it was not successful at all. The eggs were all over the place, what a mess! I wanted to scrap my ‘great idea’ of making Struffoli but I knew in my heart this was a great recipe to make. I thought I’d try it again only this time in a bowl. It was a lot more successful. The dough was tough and crumbly. I had to roll out logs and then cut them into small pieces and fry them until golden brown. What an adventure! As soon as the flour that was on the unfried dough hits the hot oil it starts to bubble and rise and fearing there would be a grease fire, I’d turn off the gas. Then I had to turn the gas back on, get the oil hot again and try again, it took hours. Finally I was finished frying what felt like a thousand Struffoli. I then had to heat the honey and pour it over the cooled Struffoli. There is also the strategic sprinkling of the little round jimmies. You have to have an even amount, you can’t have more here than there, and it should look somewhat even. Then I put them in a decorative Holiday aluminum nine by nine pan. I was glad to be done with these little buggers. They were extremely difficult and time consuming to make and I highly doubted they would ever be made by me again.

That Christmas Eve we had our dinner, it was delicious but everyone joked how they were stuffed but saved room for dessert. There was my Italian Knot Cookies, my Struffoli, cheesecake, brownies and fruit salad. I didn’t think anyone would touch my honey balls, why would they. I was still kind of ticked off at these little pieces of dough for being such a pain to make. My adopted Mom was very impressed I made them though which right away made me glow with pride. She took a spoon and tried them. I looked at her and it looked like her eyes were tearing; now I was really annoyed with this dessert. I asked Mom what was wrong, she said nothing was wrong and gave me the biggest hug. I of course was totally confused. She said she was tearing because they were exactly like her mom’s, Nanny’s recipe. She hadn’t tasted them in over ten years since her Mom passed away. Everyone heard this and took spoonful’s to try. They were a hit! Everyone marveled at how good they were and spoke about how they won’t make them because they are so time consuming and don’t come out so well. I heard myself say, “Oh they weren’t that bad to make.” Did I just say that? My Mom said she hoped this would be a tradition, I said I would absolutely make them every year! I was beyond proud; the English adopted daughter had brought an Italian dessert to her adopted Italian family that had brought tears of joyous memories to them. They made me promise to bring them every year and I was happy to make that promise. I was no longer mad at these little balls of dough; I actually looked at them, what was left anyway, and smiled!

Over the years my two daughters helped me make them, which are the same recipe I started out with, I’ve never changed it. My daughters have their own style of ‘helping me’,   it usually develops into the yearly flour fight which would end with them covered in flour. It was hysterical. This year my daughters weren’t around when I made them since they are grown and have moved out, so my husband helped me. It was a lot quieter than watching my girls throw flour at each other but it was actually fun chatting and cooking them with my husband. They tried to find out when I was making them to see if they could come by and have a flour fight with each other and now teach my grandson how to ‘Help’ make the Struffoli. I have creating the honey balls down to a science now and it takes no time at all. I’ve been making them for about thirty years now. My grandson now comes with us to my adopted family’s house which starts a whole new generation celebrating the holiday! It’s hard to believe these little pieces of dough had me so mad and then made me so happy that I found the recipe.