The other day I was at a birthday dinner with a friend, in the middle of Advent.

We were at an Italian place, the kind that only serves pasta, but lots of it, and the windows fogged up on a cold winter's night from so many people gorging on homemade pasta by candlelight.

Johanna Dürrholz

Editor in the “Germany and the World” department.

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It was a wonderfully slow evening, and just as I was feeling stuffed and relaxed, I made an alarming observation.

All the guests who left received a gift from the head of the house: a tall, blue box that dangled from a silk loop like a harmless Christmas tree ball.

The characteristic packaging, however, foreboded evil.

"Does everyone get a panettone?" I asked, horrified.

We put it down to the fact that the neighboring group with the harmlessly dangling horror cakes in their hands was particularly large and loud, so they deserved a panettone, so to speak.

So we tried to take it easy on the big ending that was coming.

I knew I wouldn't be able to refuse the dear gift of horror.

So we smiled, said thank you politely and took two forced panettones with us.

Panettone is musty yeast dough

Panettone is yeast dough that tastes as if it had fermented alone in a little room that hadn't been aired out for decades.

Sometimes, to top it all off, orange peel or raisins stick in the musty dough, which one might think had its best-before date before the introduction of the best-before date.

Did you also get a panettone this year?

Probably from someone who was given it as a gift.

Oddly enough, people don't even give panettoni as gifts for the only occasion that would be appropriate for this foam pastry - scrap pixies - but just because.

For advent tea (huh?), as a souvenir in the run-up to Christmas (please, don't!) or even as a real Christmas present (why?).

In a friend's flat share, a panettone was always taken as a souvenir to parties in other flat shares - and then always returned to the flat share in a roundabout way.

Because you can give a panettone as a gift in all its splendor – it looks nice, is a bit special in this country, has a Milanese tradition – but it is usually never opened anywhere because nobody feels like yeast foam, it likes to become one from time to time Kind of challenge cup.

On an Advent evening in the shared apartment, we looked at the now slightly creased panettone - it had expired years ago.

And that didn't really matter: it tastes expired anyway.

Forget the panettone!

So my appeal for Christmas: Forget the panettone!

Or only give it to people you know will like it.

Or people who always like to have a present to give away (“Ah, a good red wine! Great!”) at home.

But don't be surprised if you get the panettone yourself years later.

That's panettone fate then.

By the way, I was allowed to leave my panettone with my girlfriend.

She said she knew someone who knew someone who had indicated they might find panettone okay.

Maybe she also wants to annoy someone and didn't want to say so directly, because of un-Christmas feelings.

In any case, I wouldn't be surprised if the panettone, which had meanwhile arrived in Münster, ended up in Cologne again one day.

I would of course give it away.