Every year, whenever the process of trying to find the perfect holiday gift for *everyone* at the exact same time hits its crescendo, I tell myself: One of these years, I’m just gonna do what Jeff Harris does.
Every December for about a decade now, a Priority Mail Flat Rate box has arrived at my house, weighing approximately four and a half pounds. I open it, and if I don’t already have some softened butter, I grab a stick out of the refrigerator and command it to soften as fast as it can.
Inside the box are two loaves of Harris Family Cranberry Bread, which stretch the definition of “bread” to the furthest extent of the laws of nature, and might even qualify as “cake,” depending on context or audience. Anyway: You are not making a BLT out of two slices of Harris Family Cranberry Bread.
You just follow the directions on the label, which say: SLICE THICK > TOAST > BUTTER > REVEL
One loaf is approximately 10 slices of cranberry bread. In my house, since Hilary is much more of a disciplined/sensible eater than I am, I consume approximately 80 to 90 percent of our cranberry bread each holiday season. I am not at all mad or sad about this, and I would like to think everyone who is bestowed a loaf or two of Harris Family Cranberry Bread during the holidays appreciates it as much as I do.
Jeff has been making cranberry bread since 2009—or, rather, 2009 is when he got serious about it, shipping loaves of it to family and friends. In peak years, he shipped about 80 loaves of cranberry bread, and baked another 70 or 80 loaves for friends and family in his hometown of Cincinnati, which added up to about 160 loaves total, baked four at a time for 50 to 60 minutes at 350 degrees.
He’s dialed back production after back surgery a few years ago, so I am even more grateful when our box shows up. Especially because it’s always during the time when I start feeling the pressure to buy something for everyone in my family (even in a family that keeps the holiday gift-giving pretty minimal).
I’m over here with 50 tabs open and a Note on my phone with a list of possible gift ideas for each person, trying to once again nail it, or at least not buy someone something that will leave them thinking, “Huh, that’s who you think I am?” Will they think this sweater is ugly, will they put this record on the turntable more than once ever, will they read past page 50 of this book, or should I just admit defeat and buy them a gift card? Argh.
Gluten allergies and intolerances aside, the cranberry bread (or any mailable baked good, really) seems so … smart. No returns or exchanges, no gift receipts, no one having to hang a shirt in a closet for three years telling themselves they need to wear it more often/ever because someone who loves them bought it for them and their heart was in the right place. You just bake a shitton of delicious bread/cake, pack it up, and after it reaches its destination, it creates joy in all who are graced by its presence.
And if it doesn’t create joy for its recipients, it’s at least biodegradable or compostable. Although if a retired man from Cincinnati is sending you loaves of cranberry bread every December and you’re not eating them, please contact me. I know someone who can get rid of them.
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If you are interested in the exact recipe for Harris Family Cranberry Bread, Jeff generously shared a PDF of it, and you can download it here.
