So this is Christmas...
By Gregory Ronczewski, Director of Product Design at Ibbaka. See his skill profile.
Throughout the week, I make notes and sketches - collect some bookmarks to the content that may inform my next blog post. There is a certain rhythm in this process, where the writing happens on Sunday. When I woke up this morning, there was a thin layer of snow on the deck. Then, within minutes, the whole landscape turned into a magical wonderland. It is so beautiful!
I look at the calendar and realize it is just one week before Christmas. This year went by so fast. Or is it me getting older? The moment I thought about this special day subconsciously brought memories of all the times, places, and people. Some of them are no longer with us, but also, we have a few new ones that everyone welcomes to the family. A circle of life turning.
I was planning to write a few thoughts inspired by The Human Equation by Jeffrey Pfeffer. However, with the snow outside, I think perhaps in this post, I will not connect the skills, behaviours and talents to Ibbaka's Talio platform. Instead, I will share with you traditions, customs, and memories that, at least to me, are deeply connected to Christmas.
In Poland, we celebrate Christmas Eve on December 24—no need to wait for the gifts until the morning—but before this happens, the Christmas tree is decorated before cooking begins. There are only three of us here, but I remember times when many people would come together to cook, sing Christmas carols and organize the supper.
When I was a kid, I was always sent out to look at the night sky to spot the first star - an indication that it was time to begin Christmas Eve Supper, known as Wigilia. Across Poland, in every corner of the planet where my fellow Poles live, believers and non-believers, this is when family, friends and distant relatives come together. The table is traditionally covered in white cloth, and sometimes a bit of hay would be placed beneath it - a reminder that Christ was born in a manger. But before anything is eaten, everyone takes a piece of the Christmas wafers and exchanges wishes for good health and prosperity. It is customary to set an extra plate and a seat for an unexpected guest.
Meat is not allowed except for fish. The supper often starts with beetroot soup. Traditional Christmas "barszcz" is usually served with tiny dumplings stuffed with a mix of porcini and fried onion. These are called "uszka," meaning little ears. Dumplings are cooked, but sometimes they are deep-fried in oil. In my home, apart from beetroot soup, my grandmother prepared mushroom soup as well. For the main course, cooked or baked carp was served, often accompanied by hot sauerkraut with dried mushrooms. My dad would prepare a Jewish-style carp dish where pieces of fish were simmered in a fish stock. It is served in a natural jelly with onion, almonds, and raisins. It was always a gamble with the jelly making everyone nervous - will it set or not? And, of course, Christmas would not be Christmas without herring fillets, prepared in several different styles.
At this point, the atmosphere at the table becomes more relaxed - a perfect time to switch plates and have a serving of pierogis and braised sauerkraut with forest mushrooms. Some families would prepare cabbage rolls stuffed with buckwheat, pearl barley or rice.
Left: beetroot soup with “uszka.” Center: carp in natural jelly. Right: “piernik” prepared by my wife last year.
“Kutia” is an old dessert made exclusively for Christmas Eve dinner. It is a mixture of cooked, unprocessed wheat grains, cooked poppy seeds, honey, dried or candied fruits, and nuts and seeds – usually almonds, sunflower grains or walnuts. My family did not prepare “kutia,” but my wife's family did. It is delicious. Regarding desserts, Christmas would not be Christmas without gingerbread or "piernik." We bake it yearly, which needs to be done a few days before Christmas. It is then cut and eaten with layers of traditional plum preserves. "Piernik" remains fresh for a long time. However, nobody tested how long because it is usually gone before New Year. Dried fruit compote is another traditional staple dish, along with “makowiec” which is a poppyseed cake.
Twelve dishes should be on the table, but this is not that rigorously obeyed. For instance, now we would make six or seven dishes simply because there would not be enough people at the table. But I remember years when many relatives would come, and one table was not enough to sit everyone, so a few smaller tables were arranged. It was lovely to see uncles A and Z, who usually would not talk to each other, happily share a dish and exchange stories from the past year.
At some point, usually around the desert, my grandmother would say, "let's not torture the young anymore. I think it is a good time to look for some gifts." So the youngest kid would be asked to dive under the tree and see if Santa Claus left any gifts. I was the youngest, so it was my turn. A few years later, it was my cousin's turn. Then it was my cousin's son. Then it was another kid, and so on. With the passing years, a few empty seats would appear at the table. First, my grandfather, grandmother, uncle A... and then, my father, taking the recipe for the Jewish-style carp with him.
After the supper, which usually lasted for several hours, there was time to go to Pasterka - a midnight mass celebrated by Roman Catholics during Christmas between December 24 and 25. Everyone would go, believers and non-believers. It did not matter. It was a way to clear the head and be outside, sing and enjoy our time together. Churches were packed, so many stood outside, often in freezing night air.
“A very merry Christmas/ And a Happy New Year/ Let’s hope it’s a good one/ Without any fear.”
And then, it was over. A frantic day of decorating, cooking, wrapping gifts, and dressing up. Was it really over? No, not yet. The next day, December 25, known in Poland as the First Day of Christmas, was the time to invite or be invited for a fancy dinner with relatives, while December 26, the Second Day of Christmas, allowed everyone to visit friends. Then, everyone will get into their cars or board the train and disappear into the white landscape. Until next year!
Those are my memories. My Poland, my family, my tradition. A time when differences and fights would be put away, burying the hatchets for at least one night. Everyone would open their arms, kiss on both cheeks and welcome whoever knocks at the door. I fear that often with the desire to innovate, disrupt, or reset everything, we may miss the feeling of oneness deeply rooted in each of us, regardless of the traditions, customs or religion. So let's not forget who we are.
Merry Christmas.
