This month, in keeping with our ongoing
survey of Ibicenco customs, we shall turn our attention to the ways in which islanders traditionally
celebrated Christmas. As is only natural, our study will centre on the dual elements of religion and
gastronomy, the axis around which Christmases everywhere revolve.
Christmas Customs in History: North vs. South
Until quite recently, the keynote of the Ibicenco Christmas was
solemnity. The religious and reverential aspects of the holiday were
stressed to such an extent that the more festive displays typically associated
with the season's conduct simply did not come into play.
Nor was Christmas a time of gift-giving. The unrelieved poverty of
the islands' peasants inhibited the exchange of presents, while the
basic and often sole element of yuletide embellishment consisted
of a nativity scene. Perhaps an extra candle would be lit, but little
else marked the outward celebration of Christmas. As we shall see
further along, it was in the heart of home life where the real Ibicenco
Christmas took place.
Before going on to a more detailed exploration of local customs,
let us first consider some interesting differences with regard to what
constitutes proper Christmas protocol. The island's emphasis on
piety - which, indeed, was inherent to southern Europe in general -
stood in direct contrast to northern European yuletide traditions,
whose most characteristic ingredients were mirth and gaiety. One
hypothesis regarding these two differing approaches postulates climate
as the crux of divergence. The protracted length and severity
of northern winters required people to cultivate methods of combating
both the frigid temperatures and the long hours of idleness.
The result was a culture rich in indoor tradition.
It is an observable
fact that Europe's coldest countries (e.g. Germany, Britain, Scandinavia,
etc.) have the most colourful Christmas celebrations. Carolling,
for example, originated in northern Europe during the early
Middle Ages, and, despite harsh censorship from the Church, managed
to survive on sheer force of popular demand. One ecclesiastic
legate condemned this type of singing as a revelry of 'obscene
and wicked songs withchoruses of women'*. Church officials chronically
complained that carols had no basis whatsoever in the Christ
story. Instead, their lyrics invoked people to do fun things, such as
'deck the halls with boughs of holly' or 'strike the harp and join the chorus', not to mention 'troll the ancient Yuletide carol'.
Amid such
merriment, who had time to reflect on the more sensitive themes of
virgin births, guiding stars and humble mangers?
Conversely, Christmas in Ibiza was a high holy affair in which mirth
and gaiety were eschewed in favour of a deep veneration of the
Christ child. The idea of purity, so closely associated with the arrival
of the infant saviour, was literalised by the act of whitewashing one's
home in anticipation of His arrival. Yet, if we stand back from the parameters
of religion, we will appreciate that this 'climate' of sobriety
and reverence was linked to and, in fact, reinforced by profound
worries over the dwindling bounty of nature.
In Ibiza, as in any premodern
society, survival was dependent on outdoor activities, either
agricultural or piscatorial. One notable lack, however, which
put islanders at a woeful disadvantage, was the absence of hunting
as a means of supplementing winter food stores. For, in contrast
to the well-stocked forests of the north, the Ibicenco woodland was
void of large game.
Despite the climatic feasibility of two planting
seasons, harvests alone could not be counted on to tide families
over the winter. Hence, farmers were left to fret and brood over their
winter crops (usually wheat, barley and potatoes), anxious that
storms should not wreck their newly sowed fields and praying that
early frosts would not arrest the germination of their seeds.
Their wariness
increased as the sea began to heave and churn, keeping fishermen
from their labours and hindering maritime commerce. Suffice
it to say that winter in Ibiza was a lean affair, and Christmas, as
its herald, was greeted with guarded emotion.
Misa del Gall and ses Caramelles
In the religious realm, the outstanding event that set Christmas
apart from other feast days was Midnight Mass (Misa del Gall)
on Christmas Eve. At the end of this service, conducted, of
course, in Latin, a slow, almost mournful, type of Christmas hymn
known as ses caramelles were (and still are) performed.
Unlike the catchy carols of northern Europe and even mainland Spain,
ses caramelles were not intended as jolly hand-clapping jingles,
but rather as solemn liturgical music to be sung by a trained
choir. Canon Francisco Torres Peters elaborates on the evening's
ceremonial: 'After the appointed text had been read, the priest
made a sign to the musicians...normally three men: a drummer
[and] two singers with castanets and 'Espasi' [a metallic instrument],
who then proceeded to the choir, where they positioned
themselves facing the high altar and recited the seven Songs of
Praise for the Virgin Mary [in Ibicenco].
There followed two more
lauds to extol the great mysteries of the events of this night. There
is little doubt that these traditional musical performances date
back to mediaeval times, both with respect to their texts and their
music - and therefore constitute a veritable treasure of Ibicenco
folklore.'
Perhaps the merriest part of Misa del Gall, was when everyone
could at last walk home, huddled together for warmth and
singing popular folk songs to ward off the cold. Peters relates the
typical plan of action: 'After mass it was customary to meet in
public or private houses for further celebrations, and to sing the
'Caramelles'. These festivities lasted until the small hours and
were followed by one of the rare lie-ins; for until lunch there was
no work to be done.'
Sofrit Pages
Piety notwithstanding, the gastronomy of the season did register
a distinct festive flair. Because Christmas comes so soon
after ses matançes (or pig slaughters), most households served
sofrit pages for Christmas dinner. This dish is prepared from the
meat and by-products of slaughter and, with their keen eye for
economy, the islanders saw to it that none of the pig was wasted.
Basically, sofrit pages is a rich stew made of tongue, spare
ribs, streaky bacon, butifarra (Catalan blood sausage), sobrasada
(Balearic red sausage), garlic, parsley and a type of tiny potato
called patato. All of these ingredients are added to a big
vat of stock that has been previously boiled up with chunks of
lamb, chicken and pork. One of the secrets of the dish is its seasoning,
of marked Moorish influence: cinnamon, saffron, paprika,
salt, pepper or any combination thereof. Each family had its
own special recipe.
The preparation of the Christmas menu took a full two days,
during which time all of the women in the house helped with the
numerous kitchen tasks. Peters provides these interesting details
on the special bread that was made: 'Two or three days before
Christmas, there was a special baking-day, on which they baked
a particular type of bread made of white flour, which was much
more expensive than the more common brown, but gave the
bread a finer taste.'
Salsa Nadal
The crowning glory of Ibicenco Christmas cuisine is a rare and
wondrous dessert known as salsa Nadal or 'Christmas sauce'. This
concoction earns the distinction of being 'rare' in as much as it
combines a truly incongruous list of ingredients, while the qualifier
'wondrous' hints at the extraordinary task of digestion which
must be undertaken after its consumption.
Salsa Nadal is a thick
liquid (also very time-consuming to prepare), made of ground almonds,
honey and oriental spices, again showing the islands'
strong Moorish influence, all cooked in broth. In some households,
the broth used for this pudding was the same three-meat stock
used for sofrit pages, while other homes used a milder chicken
stock, or simply water. The sauce could be served hot or cold and
was accompanied by 'bescuit', a type of soft bread used for dunking. Peters informs us that these 'sweet loaves were made
from flour, eggs, sugar and aniseed. On the day before Christmas
the Ibicencos used to maintain a rigorous fast. At the same time,
they would prepare the ... "Salsa de Nadal".'
Christmas Day
Peters continues his observations with an insider's glimpse of
what happened once all the family were seated round the
Christmas table: 'The head of the family first blessed the meal,
cut the figure of a cross into the bread, kissed it, broke it and
gave it to the members of his family.
After he had served each
of his fellow diners, he took an extra large bundle of straw to the
donkey, and if there were any other beasts of burden (horses,
oxen, cows) belonging to the household, they too received their
special Christmas rations. The animals also joined the celebrations,
and, in particular, those who, according to the traditional
story embroidering the report of the gospel, had warmed with
their breath the infant Jesus in his manger...
The traditional Ibicenco Christmas was a family event, and
many hours were spent in front of the fire place where a "gran
tio", an enormous log, burned and glowed all through Christmas,
radiating warmth for all the family...
The family did not entertain, but enjoyed the feast among
themselves. [In Ibiza we say] "Per Nadal, cada animal a seu
corral" - which translates roughly as "At Christmas, every beast
stays in its own stables." Applied to humans, this meant, at home.
In those days it was also customary, if there had been a death
in a friend's or neighbour's family and they were not celebrating
Christmas for that reason, to take round a pot of "Salsa de
Nadal" to their house.'
*Prudence Jones and Nigel Pennick, A History of Pagan Europe,
1995, Routledge.
NOTE: Many thanks to Francisco Torres Peters for his generous
help in putting together this instalment. All quotes taken from Father
Peters' Christmas article, Dec. 2002, Ibiza NOW.
By Emily Kaufman
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