A COOKIE BY ANY OTHER NAME

       At Christmastime, my mother kept the old Sicilian tradition of baking special cookies, and now my sisters Mary and Connie continue it. My favorite was, and still is, the Sicilian fig cookie.

       Not to be confused with the ‘Mericane’ ‘fig newton‘, which is no more than a swipe of fig paste in a tasteless crust, my mother’s fig cookie was a delicate, tasty shell wrapped around a sweet mixture of ground figs, walnuts, dates, raisins, citron, and other delicacies. And it was all topped with a sugary frosting and colored sprinkles.

       Now, you know what I’m talking about, but what did you call them? There are as many names for this confection as there are dialects in Sicily. Many call them cuccidati (coo-chee-DAH-tee), which could be interpreted as ‘cooked dates’ or ‘date cookies’; some say nucedati (noo-che-DAH-tee), which might mean ‘nuts and dates’. I have heard them called uccidati (ooh-chee-DAH-tee), zuccidati (zoo-chee-DAH-tee), and even purcidati (poor-chee-DAH-tee), which sounds like ‘pig dates’!

       An on-line reference says they’re bruccedati (brew-che-DAH-tee), because some (my favorite kind) were made in a large ring shape, and ’bruccedati’ means ‘little bracelets’.

       But to me, they’re what my mother used to call them: puccidati (pooh-chee-DAH-tee). She always made a few of the big, ring-shaped ones and kept them aside for me, her ‘baby’. Now my sister Mary, still spoiling the (70-year-old) baby brother, makes a few just for me. Connie would, too, but living in Illinois, she’s too far away to spoil me!  I don’t know what puccidati really means, if anything. But to me, it means one thing: delicious! ~ Ange Coniglio

Rosa Coniglio’s Recipe: Sicilian Fig Cookies
 (Puccidati)
[as interpreted by the “Twins”, Mary Coniglio Denisco Sowa and Connie Coniglio Miller]
Makes 12 dozen cookies.
 

         Cut shortening and margarine into flour. Add sugar and other dry ingredients. Beat eggs with vanilla extract and buttermilk and to flour mixture.

          Mix by hand and shape: roll dough by hand into “snakes” about 16” long, 1 inch in diameter. With rolling pin, flatten snake to form strips about 3” wide and 1/8” thick. Place filling along center of strip. Fold one long edge of dough over filling, and roll once more to form a long, filled tube. Cut tube on a slant to make cookies about 11/2” long. Some can be cut about 8” long and the tube is curled in a circle to make a “bracelet".

        He was drafted into WWII in the Army and proudly served his country in the South Pacific. He witnessed the brutality of war, but it did not change the type of man he was. He was kind and generous with a loving heart and a great sense of humor that he always showed to family and friends, and even strangers.
        When he married my Mom in 1962, he was a 43 year old bachelor and he instantly began his journey to becoming a Super Dad. He knew he could never replace their father and never tried, but my brother Dennis and sister Denise became part of him. He loved them without hesitation. They were his kids, and he would do anything for them. He treated all his kids the same.
When my brother Frankie and I came along his family was complete, and his mission in life was to take care of us and he did until the day he died. He worked hard at his job as a welder at Roberts Gordon Appliances for 38 years. We lived modestly. My Dad took joy in making sure, as kids, we had everything we could want and need. And is usually the case, I never realized how hard that is to do until I became a parent. My Dad was a selfless man and always put his family first. That is the epitome of a great Dad. Of a great man.
        My Dad had eight grandchildren whom he loved more than words can say. Each of them have brought him so much joy. And boy, did they love their Papa. He made each of them feel so special. His face just lit up when he was with any one of them. We’d see his beautiful smile and that twinkle in his eye. He enjoyed hearing what they were up to. He loved going to see their recitals or plays and school functions, and always seemed to find that dollar or two that they dropped afterwards. “He had them right where they wanted him.”
        My Dad understood how hard it is to raise a family and always reassured his kids that we were raising good kids too. He was so proud of them all. “They’re all good kids,” he would say, “and that’s hard to do.
        The hardest part of losing my Dad for me is that I knew that no matter what happened, everything was going to be okay because my Dad was there. He made me feel safe and secure and had a calming way of letting us know that things always have a way of working out. “This too shall pass.”
        Well, as he left us, we knew that he was ready to go. He was tired. He lived a wonderful full life and he wanted to be at peace in a place where he wasn’t held back by physical limitations and the aches and pains of his life here. We now go forward knowing that the way he made us feel while he was living will help us to handle anything that happens after his death. The lessons he taught us are the ultimate gift from a great father.