“Tradition, tradition!”  Strains of the song from “Fiddler on the Roof” weave through my mind as I drizzle creamy, sweet glaze on the Easter Bread still warm from the oven.    The bread, with its five colored eggs poking up, is a symbol of the Risen Christ. For our family, for my parents before me, and for my grandparents before them, it was a sacred Holy Saturday tradition to prepare the bread for Easter morning.  Much like Christ’s body was prepared … Continue reading →