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Oh, child, it’s that time of year again. The stollens are coming!!

Now, as a columnist, as when I hosted my radio show, one cannot commit ‘payola’—meaning, one cannot proclaim a certain product or company to be superior, hoping to gain a kickback in perks or cash. Only politicians can. Ask Qatar.

So this means that as I await the holiday arrival of Bavarian-imported Christmas stollens—that sublime concoction of sweet, buttery yeast dough baked with nuts, candied fruit, and assorted spices, then dusted with sugar and often filled with marzipan, cherries, or what have you—I can’t tell you which store I sleep in my truck in front of, awaiting the shipment.

I can’t tell you which aisle I stake out (the last one before the booze aisle) and stand hulking, flexing my triceps like a linebacker, daring anyone to approach the seasonal offerings until I’m in their first. If you think moms were aggressive back in the years of trying to score a Cabbage Patch doll for their offspring, you’ve not encountered me poised in front of the stollen shelf.

And I might be packin,’ too.

Cattle prod. Fair warning. I run a farm, so it’s open-carry, baby.

As I do each year, I will dive upon the stollens as a Retriever dives into a pile of leaves. Paul will act as my pack mule and the fact that he doesn’t really like sweet things is a substantial factor in the long-term success of our relationship. I don’t touch his cheese, he gives my stollen a wide berth, and everybody’s happy.

Now, one can’t sit down and chow through them one after another until one’s pancreas falls out— as I learned in the late 90s. And neither should we eat anything that makes our teeth bleed after an hour, BUT—and it’s a big but (as well as responsible for giving one a big butt)— you can FREEZE them!! Cue the angelic chorus! Meaning you can freeze, oh, say, thirty of them and then just thaw and carve off a wee slice (or a four inch slab) which should see to your sweet tooth through about July 2026.

No, I can’t tell you the name of the store.

But it rhymes with Baldy.

Have at it!