Photos this page, left to right. The potica almost rolls up by itself, with a little help from Trudy Yaklich. Jenica Barrett and Andy Heiser use rolling pins to stretch out the dough. Onalee Barrett Guzy and Mason Suda with pans of rising potica. Opposite. Cindy Yaklich puts her creation in the oven. The first rise and the finished product, ready to slice and devour. Potica master Bob Oberosler. A tabletop of dough and filling.
Photos by: Cindy Yaklich, Sandra Cortner and Ruth Guerrieri Barrett
ALL ROLLED INTO ONE
WHETHER YOU CALL IT POVITICA, POTICA OR SLOVENIAN NUT BREAD, THIS SWEET, FRAGRANT MAINSTAY OF OLD CRESTED BUTTE REQUIRES HOURS OF WORK AND “A HANDFUL OF LOVE.” By Sandra Cortner
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“IT’S POVITICA!” she exclaimed as she carefully opened the foil inside the box from her aunt. It was 1967, and Nettie Kapushion, my college roommate and a Crested Butte native, generously shared her gift with me. We devoured slices of the delicious bread – cinnamon scented, buttery, melt-in-your-mouth and unlike any I had tasted before. Since then, I’ve successfully sought povitica at many potluck tables in Crested Butte. Yet I’ve never seen it in any of my mainstream cookbooks. For the early settlers of Crested Butte, povitica – or potica – was the quintessential food of Crested Butte, and some variation of this strudel or nut roll was baked for Christmas, Easter and sometimes special occasions. Women of different nationalities – Slovenian, Croatian, Italian, Czech, German – handed down their povitica recipes through
