After eight decades, she still had beautiful hands. The slim and elegant fingers with manicured nails pulled me close and enveloped me in the softest hug I’ve ever known. She used to tell us that she had been offered a job as a hand model in her youth, and I imagined that those hands on the Palmolive commercials were the same ones that tucked our hair behind our ears so she could see the face of her jewels.
My sister and I were my grandmother’s jewels, the only grandchildren from her only child. While I could fill pages with my memories of her, those memories are strongest at this time of year. On Passover, I climb on a stool and reach far back into the cabinet above my refrigerator. I pull out an old stockpot, stained with age. It takes longer to heat up than my newer pots, but I have used it every year since it became mine nineteen years ago.
I use this pot for one thing, although I’m sure my grandmother used it for many. Her matzah ball soup was the foundation of all of our holiday dinners; I could smell it the minute I walked into her apartment. I never thought to ask her how she made it; I just knew that what started as a pot of water became simmering bowls of deliciousness.
A few months after my grandmother passed away, I stared at the empty pot. It was almost Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year, and Grandma should have been making her soup. I had no recipe to continue the tradition; how did I not know that she made it from memory?
A dear family friend gave me her own recipe, which had been passed down to her from her mother-in-law. Karen tweaked the recipe to make it her own, and I did the same. Over the next few years I doctored the recipe, until it tasted just as I remembered my grandmother’s soup.
I mash the vegetables through a strainer when the soup is done, to squeeze out all of their flavor. Like she did.
I replace half of the water with seltzer when I make the matzah balls, like she did. Once a dinner guest joked that my matzah balls could be used as a weapon; I took that as a compliment. My grandmother’s matzah balls were firm, not fluffy. They were hardy, not delicate.
There is always at least one adolescent joke regarding the size of the balls, or a snicker from a kid when I ask how many balls they want. My grandmother would have gotten a kick out of seeing her four great-grandchildren so amused.
I’ve written down the chicken soup recipe, tweaked two times over to become as close to Grandma’s as I can make it. I dip her soup ladle into her pot every year, continuing the tradition that was so meaningful to her.
My hands, not nearly as beautiful as my grandmother’s. This year, my daughter’s hands. Hers and mine, working the matzah ball mixture, forming the dumplings, and dropping them into the simmering soup. Just like she did.
Thank you to my friend Nicki, whose piece, More Than a Smudge of Flour, inspired me to write this.
So beautiful…..we actually had a sedar last night for my nephew to see he’s half jewish….I found myself being a bit more nostalgic then I thought I would be….xo
That’s so nice! Sedars are such a great family event.
Such a sweet and loving post about your grandmother. It never fails to make me smile when I think of traditions and foods passed down to us through the years. The memories entwined with them just make it so much better.
I think you’re right, Kim. And my grandmother’s soup is pretty awesome to begin with!
Love this post.. I am all about tradition and family history!! Thank you for sharing! <3 – http://www.domesticgeekgirl.com
My pleasure, Gingi!
Tradition is so important. We’re Italian and since my husband has a severe wheat issue, I can’t pass on a lot of my memories – breadmaking, homemade noodles…
We’ll just focus on what we can do, and maybe we’ll come up with something new.
Maybe you can…it must be tough to have wheat issues, especially when so much of your culture’s food involves wheat.
This is so beautiful. So beautiful. Reminds me so much of my own grandma and all the times we spent in her kitchen baking cookies for Christmas – she worked me like a little b*tch. I’m kidding!!! That and I remember her hands always being filthy from being in the garden. She loved her garden…now she washed her hands AFTER she was in the garden and definitely BEFORE she baked….sigh I miss her so much.
I know what you mean…the memories are happy ones but they make you miss her all the more.
Love that you are passing a piece of your grandmother on through tradition. A family recipe always tastes better:) I am trying to keep track of all the recipes that have been passed on to me so I can keep them for my kids (and not just in my head since many of them are there now!)
That’s smart, Leah – write them down so your kids have them. And hand write them – much more personal than typing. How nice would it be for your great-granddaughter to use your handwritten recipe one day?
This is beautiful! My grandmother came from the Philippines this past October, and she taught me how to cook a few things. I’ll remember that always, too. Not just the recipies, but the time we spent together.
That must have been so nice for you, Gracielle. I regret that I never really made soup with my grandmother. I’m remedying that with my own daughter, and hopefully one day with my grandchildren.
This is beautiful. I’m so glad you found a recipe that comes close to your grandmother’s. I miss my grandmother, my “Oma” (Dutch) dearly. She had four kids, like me, and I often wish I could get her advice on raising so many darn kids, as well as many other things. My daughter swaps letters with her grandmother, my mother-in-law, and thankfully, she’s keeping all the letters.
How wonderful for both your daughter and her grandmother! When I was digging out the wedding photo for this post, I found a note that my grandmother had written me. Just seeing her handwriting brought back so many memories.
Your beautiful post brought tears to my eyes, Dana. When my mom passed, my sisters and I each kept special things from her kitchen – some miscellaneous items as well. The special things I use quite often. This past Thanksgiving, however, I was searching for a bowl or dish and in the back of one of my cupboards I found Mom’s old gravy boat. I’d forgotten I had it. I took it down carefully and tears flooded my eyes instantly as I realized that the last hands to have touched it (other than me taking it from her kitchen) had been my mom’s hands. Mom herself couldn’t be there with me for the holiday, but that dish made me feel like part of her now was. 🙂
I’m so glad you found that dish, Marcia! It’s funny – I have jewelry from my grandmother that’s worth more than the pot, but I’d give it up before I’d part with an old piece of cookware.
Memories of cooking and of recipes are some of the my favorite for recalling those who are gone. We have our family recipes too (and adolescent jokes when it comes to the balls of ravioli stuffing).
Ha – I love that other families snicker over the word “balls.” It crosses all cultures, doesn’t it?
Oh Dana! This is beautiful. What a tribute. And I love the wedding picture:). Also – the joke about balls? With three sons and a husband who acts like an adolescent, I don’t think I’d even be able to consume the soup by the time it hit the table:)!
Yes, it’s hard to eat while snorting with laughter! But it’s just another family tradition – acting like 12 year old boys.
I’m glad I don’t come from the only family who snickers at the word “balls” at the Passover table.
I like them firm too (I’m not snickering.. I swear) and Cassidy was telling me a funny story about wanting to make falafel balls from scratch and deciding to use seltzer because it works so well with matzoh balls. Let’s just say it didn’t work out.
A story for the kids, though!
Your words are beautiful. I miss my grandmothers so much sometimes – the ache turns searing.
It’s hard to believe to believe that my grandmother has been gone for 19 years. I so wish my kids had met her. It’s strange to think that two of the most important people in my life have never met one of the other most important people.
Dana this is such a lovely tribute to your grandmother. And the fact that you took the time to tweak and tweak the recipe until it was just as you remember is confirmation of the love between the two of you. I can still taste my grandmother’s split pea soup and it wasn’t until my late husband served me a bowl of his that I was able to taste it again. Happily I have his recipe. It’s just like hers.
Oh, I love that, Kelly. You can remember both of them in one delicious bowl!
I love this!! I spent many great times making memories in the kitchen with my Mema!!
Love that picture of you and your grandmother.
Thanks, Kim! She was almost as happy as I was on my wedding day.
Love the imagery! And I love that picture of you two. On any given Sunday (not that I make traditional Sunday meals all the time) but I think about my great grandmother’s sweet tea, macaroni and cheese and pound cake. I’ve finally got the pound cake down. Daddy was raised by her. On one visit he said, “Wow! This tastes like mom’s pound cake.” That’s a huge compliment. I am very close with the macaroni and cheese. I think the next one is going to be THE one. I have to make sure daddy is here to try that. I’ll never get the sweet tea down. I liked hers but I don’t like it so I’m never going to be able to get the taste right.
It’s so tough to replicate a cherished dish – I’m impressed that you mastered the pound cake! And I’m sure having your father taste test is the best way to know if you’ve done it.
Dana! This is absolutely lovely and perfect and so full of love and the power of tradition. It makes me wish I had a similar pot/tradition from my own grandmother. It feels like honoring your past and your future at once. Happy Passover, my sweet friend!
Thank you, Kristi! I’m not sure how I ended up with the pot instead of my mom or sister, but I’m so glad I did!
Dana, this is such a beautiful story. I just lost my grandmother last month and about 10 years ago I had her write down her favorite recipes. You can bet your bottom dollar I’m going to start making these things every chance I get! Thank you for sharing your wonderful memories!
I’m so sorry for your loss, Kirsten. What a blessing that she was able to be a part of your children’s lives, and that you have her recipes to carry on her traditions.
The image of her beautiful hands, yours and Gwen’s… the pot and ladle (which I thought about when I made my own soup last week)… the gorgeous photograph of you and her… So beautiful Dana. Love your mom’s comment too! Thank you for this. And Chag Sameach my friend xx
Thank YOU for the inspiration, Nicki. I so enjoyed writing this; thinking about my grandma makes me happy.
And then Gwen will take ownership of the stock pot and continue to make your grandmother’s Matzo Ball soup (with a borrowed and tweaked recipe) and on and on. The traditions of the holidays carried down through the generations – just beautiful!
What wonderful memories of your grandmother! Thank you for sharing them with us.
Thank you for reading, Debbie! I’m not sure why I didn’t write about her sooner, but Nicki’s post inspired me to do it.
So happy! <3
What beautiful memories! I think making food is one of the best ways to remember people 🙂
I agree! Although I’m not a particularly good cook, so I’m not sure if that’s how I want to be remembered…
So beautiful! There’s something about family food that just feels like such a special tradition. Love that you’re still using her pot and ladle. May her memory stay close with you and your children.
Thank you, Leslie. I wish my grandmother could have known my kids…she would have adored them. Gwen is named after her though, so I think she would love that too.
I’m sittting here balling. Love you Dane.
Love you too Sue! <3
what a beautiful tribute to someone who was oh so important to you. Happy (belated) Passover my friend.
Not belated…still a few more days! I’m already craving pizza and pasta…
This is just a lovely post. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you Leslie!
Oh, Dana, that is just beautiful. Family recipes and the memories that go with them are such precious treasures. This made me a little teary. You know, I’m glad this isn’t the only kitchen where the jokes about balls happen. Only here, the adolescent is my husband. 😀
Oh, my husband participates too! Really, how can you resist? I mean, balls.
Kind of hard not to. 😀
This is just lovely, Dana! Personal memoir pieces like are often my favorite posts to read, and you really pulled me in with your writing. I loved being put right into your kitchen and getting a sense of who your grandmother was, and your love for her. Thank you for sharing this!
It was my pleasure, Christy – I’m so glad you enjoyed it!
This brought tears to my eyes, Dana. I have my mother’s big pot at my house. The bottom is pitted a dinged. I’m afraid to use it anymore, but there’s no way I could get rid of it!
I know what you mean – I actually made the soup last week in a bigger pot, and then poured it into my grandmother’s to serve it. It just makes me happy!
I can’t tell you how happy it makes me that you have wonderful memories of grandma. She would have been so proud of you and your sister, let alone her beautiful great-grandchildren. I don’t think I told you the other night that the matzoh balls were the best ever. Could it have been because of the extra pair of loving hands that helped to make them??
That must have been it, Mom. 🙂
What a beautiful post and remembrance of your grandmother. Definitely wish I would have written down a few of my own grandmother’s recipes, too. But sadly I didn’t and could kick myself for it. Still though, I think it is amazing how you did recreate her recipe and total props to you for that and so much more!
Thanks, Janine! I make sure I write down recipes so that Gwen can have them when she is on her own. My grandmother did so much from memory!
Beautiful post. Made me teary. I love that our families will always be connected, not just by love, but by chicken soup, too.
I love that too, Karen. Thank you for helping me carry on my grandmother’s tradition. xoxo
My mom makes my great-grandmother’s chicken soup recipe and also mashes the vegetables at the end. A Jewish holiday with my family is not complete without that soup! My mom gave me the recipe, but I have yet to try making it. I don’t know why. And seltzer in matzah balls are key!
I hope you enjoyed the Passover seders.
We did, Bev – thanks. Hope you did too! I’m sick of matzah, though – I miss my morning oatmeal.
I love this. I love tradition and passing down memories through cooking and smells and being together. When I was pregnant with the boys I made my two aunts come to my house and teach me how to cook all their best recipes – sauce, meatballs, chicken soup and lasagna. I wrote everything down and often turn to those recipes, that I can now mostly make from memory. It’s a wonderful gift.
That is a gorgeous picture of you and her! I hope that’s hanging in your home so you can see it daily.
It isn’t Allie, but you’re right – it should be! I love that you have all of those recipes from your aunts. It just recently occurred to me that I should start teaching Gwen some of these dishes, especially since she’s enthusiastic about it. Not so enthusiastic about cleaning up the kitchen afterwards, though.