In a small back room at Perreca’s Bakery in Schenectady, Maria Perreca Papa is in a jolly mood. The coals in her 100-year-old brick oven are red-hot and the aroma of rum and raisins is in the air.
On this morning, the rich, cream-colored dough is rising nicely, and Papa hovers over the 44 round pans, which are big and small.
“They are like little babies,” she says.
Warmth spills into the room as Papa opens a heavy metal door in the wall and peers into a cavern that is about 12 feet deep and 2 feet high. In the far right corner of this darkened space, a heap of coal is glowing, like charcoal in a backyard grill.
With Christmas just under two weeks away, Papa is baking her first batch of panettone, a sweet bread that is a holiday tradition for Italian-American families.
“We’re going to bake every day until Christmas,” says Papa, who co-owns the bakery with her brother Anthony. “It’s like the best Danish you ever had with the added ingredient of an Italian grandmother’s love.”
Three generations of the Perreca family have baked panettone in this one-of-a-kind oven on North Jay Street. This year, Papa and her assistant, Lyne Metz, are baking more than 1,000 loaves, and 300 to 400 of them are already reserved by customers. The rest will be picked up by people who walk through the door.
Making panettone is different than making the hard-crusted Italian bread that made Perecca’s famous.
“It’s a long process, a tricky process,” says Papa.
At 3 a.m., she calls the bakery and workers get the ingredients going.
“Lots of eggs, sugar, butter. The raisins are soaked in rum all night long,” says Papa.
“We don’t write anything down. You get a feel for the ingredients.”
By 6:30 a.m., the dough, which is made with a very moist yeast, is mixed, rolled by hand and on the rise. At about 10 a.m., the first four loaves are gently brushed with an egg wash. Then Papa grabs a 12-foot-long wooden paddle and shoves them deep into the oven.
After 10 minutes, the breads are paddled out of the oven and inspected. The oven has no temperature gauge or other controls.
“This is when we start praying. We want to keep them pouffed,” says Papa.
When they come into the light, Papa admires their browned tops and Metz covers each one with a foil tent to prevent burning.
“They are beautiful,” Papa says.
Then back in the oven they go for an hour and a half.
For Italian-Americans, it’s traditional to eat panettone on Christmas morning.
Slices are slathered with butter, sprinkled with cinnamon and broiled in the oven.
“For a lot of Italians, this is their breakfast. They are gearing up for the big meal of the day,” she says.
Making panettone makes her feel like “everybody’s Italian grandma,” says the 51-year-old Papa.
“It’s making people feel good. This is my role, to be your grandmother,” she says. “We really put love in it.”