The Grandma Zone
8 recipesWhen my grandmother passed, I inherited several worn-looking coffee cans and small boxes full of scraps of stained paper inscribed with my grandmother's lovely handwriting. These dinged up containers number amongst my most cherished possessions, for this is the collection of recipes that my grandmother turned to again and again over the years, and they form the basis for some of my happiest childhood memories. She transcribed these from her mother in law and sister in law, clipped these from magazines, wrote down notes dictated by friends over the phone. They are often difficult to decipher… the ink or pencil has faded, the ingredients splashed the notes, the paper has grown brittle with time. And so I am slowly digitizing the recipes I love best, photographing the original scraps of paper and including them on the page, transcribing what I can make out, and then, when necessary, interpreting the recipe to conform more closely to modern conventions (e.g. I know what my grandmother meant by "a third of a yahrzeit glass" but not everyone else will know what brand she meant or that those candles are not made in those glasses any more).
Beverly is my mother. My mother was a good cook, but didn’t have much patience for the process nor passion for the result, so there are very few recipes that I have that are distinctly hers. This recipe is one of the rare few, and my grandmother evidently kept a copy in her recipe box. The relish was always on the table for Rosh Hashanah and Thanksgiving, although I myself have not made it lately. It’s a nice alternative to the widely-available weird squiggly canned cranberry sauce, but I will admit that I have a strange affection for the canned stuff, too.
This excellent pareve dish has some things in common with Jennie Grossinger's truly inspired mock-liver recipe. (The Grossinger recipe uses sardines to outstanding and totally unidentifiable effect. It's the best mock-liver I've ever had.) In both cases using a food processor makes the recipe much easier with no sacrifice on the results.
I remember her making these on occasion, especially in the latter half of Pesach. They were simple but tasty. The instructions are a bit vague.
This recipe has just about the shortest ingredient list and instructions imaginable. And it's barely legible. But if you're into minimalism, here you go - and really, potato, eggs, salt and fat is always a winning combination.
Yes. Yes that is quite a lot of margarine. It tastes fantastic, if your arteries can handle it. This recipe has been retrieved from my grandmother's recipe boxes and the original paper (images below) was heavily spattered with food and almost illegible. I have rephrased it without changing any ingredients or techniques into a more traditional recipe format.
For my formative years we had this recipe every Rosh Hashana and Thanksgiving. I'd looked through my grandmother's recipe boxes a few times in search of it, but didn't find it until now, 10 years after her passing. I'm so happy that I found it that I am using it to inaugurate a new section of my site called "The Grandma Zone" which will consist of recipes I have of hers, or those I find in her recipe boxes, many of whom she attributes to various friends who have now also passed on. This recipe has been retrieved from my grandmother's recipe boxes and the original paper (images below) was heavily spattered with food and almost illegible. I have rephrased it without changing any ingredients or techniques into a more traditional recipe format.
Frances Toren was one of my grandmother’s best friends. Frances was one of the nicest people… genuine, kind, warm, trustworthy… managing to be incredibly sweet without being saccharine. Neither my grandmother nor I put much credence in the supernatural, but I was present for a very odd experience regarding Frances. At the time, Frances was quite elderly and frail, but still very much in the world. She had been ill and my grandmother had been in regular contact by phone. I was home from school and in my grandmother’s kitchen late one afternoon when suddenly grandma gasped and grabbed for a chair to sit down. Concerned, I asked what was wrong. My grandmother (who was sharp as a tack until the day she died) looked at me with utter confusion written on her face. She said, “I don’t really know. I just heard Frances’s voice in my ear, plain as I’m speaking to you.” “Oh!” I paused, equally at a loss. “What did she say?” “She said, ‘Don’t worry, Jeannette, everything will be alright. It’s going to be okay.’” My grandmother’s delicate eyebrows were pinched with worry. “I don’t know what it means.” My grandmother tried calling Frances, but got no answer. A couple of hours later, Frances’s husband called with the news that Frances had passed away. Below you’ll find the scrap of paper my grandma had in her collection with Frances’s potato salad recipe jotted down.
My grandmother wrote down a lot of recipes from friends… especially from her hairdresser Marge. But she didn’t necessarily make the recipes in question. I’m pretty sure this one is an exception.