People still ask me sometimes why I bother with making Kulichi, or Paski*, every year, as it involves a lot of effort and time, and, as per usual my only answer is cherished memories of my Babushka who made them following her own recipe, with cinnamon and cloves (yes, I told her story at some point, but quite a while ago).

Our neighbours, whom she always shared her Kulichi with, praised them as the most delicious out there—“those dark Paski by Valentina Alexandrovna are the best,” they repeated. It was true: they were perfect. And it was my duty to figure out the recipe and then to try and recreate it, so every year I do exactly this.

No matter how hard I try, I know that hers were better anyway, and, paradoxically, it makes me happy, as it evokes lots of lovely memories about her and my childhood. I guess, it is my service now, which confirms to me that He is truly Risen.

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* You can call them either Orthodox Easter cakes or, more correctly, Easter feast bread