I often think how delicious the small things tasted before this our world got so saturated with everything ready at all times. Small things baked in a kitchen at home. The smell of warm milk and yeast and dough rising in a corner of the wood fired stove. How delicious the brioches straight from the oven, barely cooled, just to try if it turned out well, I know I know you’ll get a bad tummy if you eat warm bread.
There was a time, you know, when an orange was a treat and chocolate a luxury. When you could make a gift of giving an apple to a child, and the child’s eyes would glitter with delight. When it was a special day when you drizzled some honey over your cornmeal. When brioche was for the holidays and maybe, if your parents weren’t very poor, also for Sundays.
So I’m very nostalgic about Grittibenzen, a traditional Christmas brioche in the shape of a homunculus, as simple and as ancient as the tales folks told at the fireplace, for they taste of food before the great repletion.
If you’d like to try and bake some, here’s the how to!


What you’ll need
It’s very difficult to give clear instructions as success depends a lot on the quality and composition of the ingredients, as well as external conditions, such as humidity, temperature and moon phases. Quantities are indicative, you may have to adjust in order to get a better result.
- 1kg of good heritage wheat flour, I used a T65 but lower is working even better
- 10g or two bags of dried yeast
- 5dl warm milk
- A table spoon of sea salt, ground in a mortar so it will dissolve better
- Two table spoons of sugar
- 150g butter at room temperature
- Little bits of nuts or candied fruits
- An egg for brushing
How to make it
To make a good yeast bread, make sure your kitchen is well heated and not draughty. Also prepare a warm spot for the dough to rise in tranquility. Ideally, you’re baking with a waxing moon.
Put the flour in a big bowl and make a hole in it, where you pour in the dry yeast. Add a little bit of warm milk, perhaps half a decilitre and let activate for a couple of minutes. Then add the salt and the sugar. I use a kitchen robot to knead the dough, so while putting it on low speed slowly add the warm milk. Add as much as needed so the dough mixes well but stays on the dry side. It shouldn’t stick to the bowl and still be a little crumbly. Then add spoon after spoon of butter, waiting each time until it’s incorporated in the dough. The dough is good when it’s making long threads when pulled apart and comes off easily the bowl. Also it shouldn’t stick to your fingers. If it’s too sticky, add a little bit of flour and butter and knead well. Cover the dough with plastic foil and then with a dish cloth, so it can rise in darkness. Let rise for about 4-5h in a warm spot.

Pre-heat the oven to 170° with the fan on.
Gently tip out the dough on a flat board and cut portions about the size of your fist. Form them into sleek balls, flatten on the board and then cut out the arms, legs and head. You’ll have to pull arms and legs into place and shape the head and add little pieces of nuts or candied fruits for eyes.
Brush with the egg yolk.
Place on a baking tray laid out with parchment paper and bake for 15 – 20 minutes.
When they’re golden, take out of the oven and let cool on a cooling rack.
I often stick acorn shells as pipes in the Grittibenz mouths, but this year I baked so many for a party and I didn’t have enough shells left. But it definitely does look cute.
How to eat them
They always taste divine, but I tell you it’s pure bliss eaten fresh off the cooling rack. Also they’re made for being given away, so don’t be shy!
*This is Les Poissonchats Wondrous Advent Calendar! Advent calendars are a big tradition where I come from: every day until Christmas Day you prepare a small gift for a loved one, fourandtwenty little surprises. Advent calendars come in beautifully old fashioned prints on cardboard, extra glitter and glory, and each day there’s a little perforated window waiting for you be opened. Others are more elaborate, pretty baskets filled with twenty four numbered parcels, red velvet ribbons and sprigs of fir. The one I’m making for you this season is a different one altogether, it comes in digital form. Unless specially marked, all content is hand-stitched by myself, lovingly compiled and written for your amusement.