It was a last-minute ask.

​My friend needed a few extra hands to finish her holiday confection preparation as Christmas Eve descended. “Your place or mine … I will come to you.”

​I couldn’t say no.

​She arrived with all the supplies from her kitchen: a dozen eggs, a carton of milk, a quart of neutral oil, a sack of flour, a bag of sugar, and all the spices. She even brought measuring utensils and other dishware we would need for an assembly line of tinkering and finishing touches.

​“These are called ‘Buneulos’,” she said slowly and clearly, nodding patiently as I repeated the word several times, emphasizing different syllables with a question-mark lilt in my voice. She gently repeated the word until my brain could settle the sounds into their proper order.

​“That’s it! You’ve got it!”

​She pulled out a snowflake-shaped mold that........

© The Saratogian