I confess: Come the holidays, and I am definitely a sentimental cook and eater. Proust’s famous tea-soaked madeleine that arrested time, transporting him to his childhood. That’s me.
Granted, when it comes to matzah, it might be a bit tough. The original food-evoking item might actually need to have a flavor in the first place in order to evoke one a generation later, but let’s just chalk matzah up as an exception.
It might not be madeleines, but for each of us there is a food or two whose memory is so strong and very much tied to particular scents, memories, people whom we love. Ever so briefly, it returns to us a moment from the past.
Nothing brings this out so strongly as Pesach because it guarantees that once a year you will repeat these food restrictions and traditions that yield that fond and sentimental food experience.
After all of one’s changes from generation to generation — perhaps living somewhere else, speaking a new language, living a very different life from the person (you) who originally prepared a beloved dish — one bite transcends it all. The connection endures, tasted in the folds of, maybe, a blintz, a warm pink-hued chunky cinnamon-y applesauce, a creamy potato sour cream soup, or the melt in your mouth homemade luckshen (noodles).
Ah, luckshen.
I grew up eating gabrokts, under which contact between matzah and liquid is permitted. Hence, matzah kneidels floating in chicken broth on Pesach is tradition.
But one of my grandmother’s Passover customs is not to eat gabrokts, under which contact between matzah and liquid is not permitted. Which brings about the need for a kneidel substitute: luckshen.
By beating eggs vigorously, then mixing potato starch mixed into water, a touch of oil and a touch of salt, then pouring a little at a time into a crepe pan, and, ta-da, you have bletlach, blintz leaves.
In her tiny modest kitchen, like clock work, my grandmother would turn out perfectly solitary, colored, pale yellow crepe after crepe. As the pile grew higher and higher, stacked on a plate, you just felt more and more incredulous. Believe me, it is an art to turn out these perfectly spotless crepes.
Without much money to be had, when you stared at that growing pile of simple crepes, more than anything they exuded bounty and comfort.
I witnessed this only once. I was in the first grade. But it made the type of impression you remember all these years later.
These almost translucent crepes would be kept wrapped in the fridge, and throughout this eight-day holiday they would be taken out at random for different meals.
Breakfast, crepes warmed up, shmeared with some strawberry jam, sprinkled with nuts and cinnamon, then rolled up like a cigar.
For a Shabbat or Yom Tov appetizer, crepes like a blanket, folded with some broth-y chicken from the chicken soup, the chicken marbelized with dark, melted caramelized onions.
And, of course, luckshen. Again rolling the crepe, only this time slicing it into long strips of homemade egg noodles.
Even though I enjoy my kneidels on Pesach, I have opted to continue my grandmother’s luckshen tradition. When I prepare my grandmother’s simple yet now treasured recipe of eggs, water and potato starch, I am mindful that I am cooking an almost one- century-old luckshen recipe! A recipe that has survived a lot.
So, yeah, like I said, I am a sentimental Proustlike eater at these holidays. Especially, Pesach.
I find a lot of the food shtick charming. No cheating for me, like purchasing Pesach-dig boxed noodles or cake mixes. No way! I like my Pesach nice and old fashioned.
All that said, the drama and hype around Pesach cooking I could do without. Weeks in advance, obsessing and stressing about the food. What is this?
Pesach is one week. One week! To be sure, there are some food adjustments to be made. But instead of being a pain, I enjoy looking at it as an adventure. Or an opportunity to eat healthier. Or, if none of this works, a week just to eat less. Maybe even a Spring cleanse of mostly protein, fruits and vegetables.
Oh yea. With some traditional food recipes and cakes thrown in . . . to rekindle those cherished memories.
Copyright © 2014 by the Intermountain Jewish News
