Yesterday was the feast of St. Lucy and to aid me in my blogging duties (which I'll admit I have not been attending to of late), the brethren of my spiritual home St Louis Abbey, MO., have set to it and baked St. Lucy Buns and sent me photographs of them. There was no message included with the photographs to say 'put these on your blog', but I felt the imperative, and so here I am.
St. Lucy is one of those early Christian virgins who met a sticky end for refusing to part with her honour, much like St Agatha and St Agnes. In Lucy's story is the rather gruesome detail that her eyes --- which were so fine that they tempted many a man --- were gouged out. The tradition is that they were either removed as part of her torture, or that she removed them herself to ward off the unwanted advances. Given that she was Sicilian, and thus no doubt given to grand gesture, I find the latter more plausible.
The whole business with the eyes has meant that St. Lucy has come to be associated with light, and sight. Whilst some say that the story about her eyes being removed is late, the fact that her very name means light suggests that this has always been part of what she has to teach us. Lucy's feast falls during Advent, close to the solstice, and she points us towards Christmas with particular hope. It is beautiful that this year St Lucy's feast day fell the day before Gaudete Sunday, when with Rose vestments we take the edge off Advent a bit and look forward to Christmas with hope. There is a wonderful sense of looking forward, of seeking, of expectation. It is interesting to remember that Lucy was blinded... she could not see and indeed we do not yet 'see', rather we look forward to 'seeing', to the new vision that will come in and through the Incarnation.
I've been reading the Chronicles of Narnia of late, and I think it's no coincidence that the youngest of the Pevensie children --- the one who first discovers Narnia, and indeed the one who is first to see Aslan when they return in Prince Caspian --- is called Lucy. It is Lucy who looks forward, Lucy who points us towards Aslan.
In Scandinavian countries they are particularly fond of Lucy, and with such miserable dark winters well they should be. Lucy is venerated solemnly with all sorts of pagan-looking festivities involving girls who pop advent-wreath type things on their heads. I'm sure many poor young Swedish girls have set fire to themselves at this time of year --- it must have been particularly dangerous in the 1970s with all that polyester around.
In addition to all this larking about, the Swedes also make lovely buns for St. Lucy, which they enjoy with coffee. And this is what Br Dunstan and Fr Ambrose made yesterday. The bright saffron in the mix reminds us of light, and the raisins are perhaps eyes --- I'm not certain on this point, but it sounds convincing so it's good enough for me.
Here's the receipt:
450 ml milk
50 g fresh yeast
1 egg, plus 1 extra, lightly beaten, to brush
165 g (¾ cup) caster sugar
¼ tsp saffron threads, finely chopped
900 g (6 cups) plain flour
64 (about 85 g) raisins
Melt butter in a pan. Add milk and heat until warm. Pour into a large bowl and add yeast, stirring to dissolve. Add egg, sugar, saffron and 1 tsp salt. Gradually add flour, stirring constantly, until mixture forms a smooth but sticky dough. Cover bowl with a clean tea towel and leave to rise in a warm place for 40 minutes or until double in size.
Punch down dough and knead until smooth. Divide into 4, then divide each piece into 8. Shape each piece into a 20 cm length, then form into an S shape, tucking ends into dough and pressing to join. Place on an oven tray lined with baking paper, cover with a tea towel and leave in a warm place to prove for another 40 minutes.
Preheat oven to 200°C. Place a raisin into each circle created by the S shape, brush with beaten egg.
Bake your buns for 10 minutes or until golden brown. Serve warm with nice hot coffee, and perhaps some butter.
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