This acrostic was written by the Bluzhever Rebbe in honor of my grandfather, Menashe Ringler. It tells the story of his life in Hebrew, and it appears on my grandfather's tombstone.
Sing this song to the tune of "Davy Crockett."
When thinking about food, most people probably think about dinner or maybe lunch. My childhood food memories start with breakfast. What could be better than an Egyptian Eye with hot cocoa? The Egyptian Eye was a piece of white bread with a silver dollar-sized hole cut in the middle. The bread would then be fried in butter and once lightly browned, an egg would be broken into the hole and also be fried. The fried bread and the fried egg would become one. The hot cocoa would be made with whole milk and Hershey's cocoa powder, with some sugar added.
It is possible that some homes thought about fat, salt or cholesterol, but ours never did. It wasn't something we dismissed. It never penetrated our consciousness.
Discussion of dinner needs to properly begin before any cooking. Jack the butcher would sell my mother already koshered meat, but my mother would re-kosher it just to be sure. For the chicken, after the re-koshering, my mother would also go over every spot of the bird to look for pin feathers which she would either burn away with kitchen matches or pull out, possibly with a tweezer. I can be forgiven for not knowing chickens had feathers until later in life. I can also be forgiven for thinking that food had to be very salty.
Our dinners came with a few standard side dishes. Steak or roast chicken would come with mashed potatoes and chicken fat. Hamburgers and lamb chops were served with kasha also with chicken fat. Roast beef came with baked potatoes. A salad of iceberg lettuce with cut-up tomatoes and cucumbers came with many meals and always with a bottle of Milani 1890 dressing on the table beside the vegetables.
Each year for my birthday, my mother would make meatballs and spaghetti using a recipe from her childhood friend Jennie D'Amato. It was so delicious, and as I recall, very labor intensive. I always appreciated it.
Every meal would have fresh rye bread from the Butterflake bake shop. My father would eat two or three slices to help fill himself up and each of us were expected to have one or two slices. My sister didn't like the crust, so I think she would give them to my father who ate the crusts, too.
We had the same dessert every evening: freshly brewed ice tea (from Swee-Touch-Nee tea bags) and parve fruit pies from Butterflake. The tea was strong and quite delicious. I loved the pies, especially the cherry pie, but the apple, peach, pineapple or blueberry pies were also terrific.
Thanksgiving dinner would, of course, be a roasted turkey with stuffing, but the side dishes were nearly as memorable: canned cranberry sauce in a solid jelly form, and sweet potatoes in a baking dish with melted marshmallows and pineapple rings. That evening and every night, whether I then knew it or not, I had much for which to be thankful.
While Louise and I speak regularly, we rarely speak about food. We discuss family, memories (Louise was my first roommate!), teaching and students. And writing.
Louise has been after me for years to write a book. Just as I laughed when Alana asked me to write a cookbook, I laughed when Louise took my writing seriously. I brushed her off, over and over again.
But Louise stayed after me. So Louise! Thank you for the encouragement and the love!
As we come together tonight to celebrate Mom’s five eight
We began to think how food was more than something on a plate
It serves as a symbol of love, devotion, warmth and care
It adds joy in good times and comfort when in despair
There is one person who understands this more than any other
And that is, of course, Rachel, our kind, beautiful mother.
Food has played a key role in all stories, starting with the Bible
From lentil soup in Esau’s birthright to manna with the slaves’ survival
A huge feast was where Romeo & Juliet’s doomed romance first began
Ambrosia was the food of Zeus and any immortal, ancient Greek man
Bertie Bott’s Beans were Harry Potter’s favorite candy and sweet treat
And lack of soup led orphan Oliver Twist to famously ask for more to eat
The dishes that mom creates have been just as important through the years
Making some brisket, heaven and curried chicken could reduce Sam to tears
Macs and cheese and pizza bagels kept Talia alive while she was a child
No matter the week, her golden challah repeatedly drives all her tasters wild
Her homemade meat sauce was hard for Alana’s college roommates to resist
And guests in our home often ask of what ingredients her recipes consist
The nourishment you gave us, Mom, is more than just through food
You are there through both the good and the bad, no matter the mood
You’re a constant source of wisdom and always know what’s right
You know if something’s wrong, even while asleep in the middle of the night
“A milkshake and a nap” has been your motto since the beginning of our lives
You teach us by example, and genuinely beam whenever one of us thrives
So here’s to many more years of happiness, food, family and health
You are filled and surrounded by so much love that it’s hard to count your wealth
From writing a cookbook, to giving tours, to helping the shul improve
We can’t wait to see what you accomplish while you’re on the move
Now let’s raise a glass to the woman and mother we adore in every way
We love you, admire you, and hope you have the happiest birthday!
In preparing for Shabbat, each Wednesday night, my grandmother, Sarah Rutkowitz, would sit her daughters, Rose or Miriam, down and have one of them write up the grocery list. Then Rose or Miriam would bring the list to the corner grocer for delivery on Thursday.
My aunt Rose, front, with her sisters Yetta, Fanny and my mother, Miriam.
Thursday was busy. Sarah would buy the fish to make the gefilte fish from an old lady with a long skirt, named Mrs. Fishman! Sarah would skin and fillet the fish herself and then chop it by hand. One of her children, Harry or Yetta, Al or Fanny, Miriam or Rose, would help clean the chicken by putting it in boiling water so that the remaining feathers could be plucked easily.
Sarah would bake delicious honey cake and apple cake and challahs. The apple cake had a thick crust and consisted of apples, cinnamon, sugar, and raisins. Pans were big and the cake would sit on folding chairs in the dining room covered by napkins with a knife perched on top. The children could then help themselves to the cake. Her sponge cake was delicious and never fell. Sarah would beat whites until they were stiff. She used whole cinnamon sticks and nutmeg in her baking or in her tzimmes. No artificial anything.
Specialties for Shabbat: chicken soup and chopped liver. Boiled chicken from the soup and tzimmes. Potato pudding and noodle pudding – sweet noodle pudding made with home-made noodles.
And while wine making was not a weekly function, my grandfather, Moshe Rutkowitz, was in charge of that once a year in the fall. He would remove the grapes from the stems, and place the grapes in a large enamel bowl. He would wash the grapes and then place them, together with sugar, in a large wooden barrel which was then brought to the dark cellar of their building to ferment. Thick, sweet home made wine for the year!
As told to me by my aunt, Rose Tyson.
If you are reading this site, it means that you are dear to me. You are part of my family or you are a friend.
I wrote and compiled this book for my children and my nieces and nephews. I hope that you will dabble in these recipes and enjoy the bits of family lore that are sprinkled throughout.
By sharing these stories and these recipes, we will have yet another way to stay close.
In preparing Why Cook?, I had support from friends and family.
Sharon Inkeles found the printer.
Patricia Udell told me to believe in myself and consulted on design.
Katja Goldman edited and advised – to say nothing of all the recipes of hers that fill this site.
Alana, Sam and Talia made me feel like they really wanted this book. And needed it! And were excited to have it! They gave the project meaning. And if you like the family and food photographs, tell Talia. She was the photographer.
And my beloved Yossi listened patiently and carefully. He tentatively proffered ideas or suggested changes when I would allow him to since he knew that I WANTED TO DO THIS BY MYSELF!!! He helped when I needed help and stepped back when I didn't. And whenever I read excerpts to him, he listened closely, with so much love. And so much encouragement.
Thanks everybody. I look forward to sharing many more meals with each of you. That is, in large part, why I cook.