Struffoli Napoletani

Struffoli are not difficult. They require no special talent, no years of training. What they require is patience: the patience to roll small balls of dough, the patience to fry them in batches at the correct temperature, the patience to coat them properly in warm honey. If you lack patience, make something else.

The dough is simple. Flour, eggs, a little butter, a touch of citrus. You mix it, you rest it, you roll it into ropes and cut it into pieces no larger than a chickpea. This is the test. Too large, and the struffoli become heavy. Too small, and they turn to nothing in the honey. The size of a chickpea. Remember this.

The frying must be done at the correct temperature. Too hot, and the outside burns while the inside stays raw. Too cool, and the struffoli absorb oil and become greasy. When done properly, they are light, barely sweet on their own, waiting for the honey to transform them. The honey is not a garnish. It is the point. Warm it gently, toss the fried balls until each one glistens, then pile them high and let them cool into a sticky, magnificent heap.

Neapolitans have made struffoli for Christmas since before anyone bothered to write it down. They are served on the feast of the Immaculate Conception, on Christmas Eve, on Christmas Day, on New Year's. They sit on the table in their sticky glory, and guests pick at them with their fingers, one or two at a time, until suddenly the pile has vanished. This is as it should be.