Twelve sleeps until Christmas… but who’s counting? In my family, me! Don’t get me wrong – my boys, Raffi, eight, and Miro, five – are beyond excited at the imminent arrival of the festive season, but when it comes to Christmas spirit, I take the crown. I’ve always been that way inclined. I take trips to the shops just to admire the decorations, have my own advent calendar that I eagerly open every day, devote time and care to wrapping presents, and also bake goodies as if my life depends on it. Honestly, if I could sit on Santa’s lap and tell him my wishes (without my husband’s disapproval), I would!

One of the joys of this time of year is the excuse to get in the kitchen and fill the house with the aromas of nutmeg, cinnamon and citrus as I listen to Luciano Pavarotti’s rendition of Tu Scendi Dalle Stelle, an Italian Christmas carol.

This is a ritual that takes me back to when I was a little girl in Milan and would watch Mamma effortlessly turn ingredients into delectable treats in anticipation of the festivities about to begin. More often than not, she’d ask me to help with the easier jobs, such as pouring the sugar or mixing in the spices. I would patiently await my reward: an opportunity to lick the bowl.

These days, in my Sydney kitchen with my Italian-Australian boys, nothing much has changed. Raffi and Miro sit around the benchtop, bubbling with excitement as we chop, mix and pour, all while humming Christmas carols.

Our other tradition? We always make sure we have a few squares of panpepato, a spicy and dairy-free Italian Christmas cake that’s similar to panforte, to gift Babbo Natale (Santa) – a true lover of Italian baked goods. Here’s the recipe.