Easter brunch. There was this whole tradition from Slovakia where she grew up, but no one took up the mantle. Even when the following generation made one of the dishes, it was never the whole tradition. Now my Easter’s are with my own family and I have no idea what the traditions all were.
And it started with nut rolls and other treats made well ahead of time. Granted an obscene amount of effort for one person.
The “cheese” was most distinct although not my favorite. It was an egg thing that was “cheesed”, or strained through cheesecloth to become denser, more solid. I always wondered if it was called equivalent to “cheese” in Slovakian or if that was a missing translation
Was it a cured egg yolk? Your description reminded me of that. https://youtu.be/kp6F7jW5cmI
Rainbow cakes.
Sleeping in, then waking up to the smell of breakfast casserole. Walking out of my room and everyone’s there in the kitchen together.
Nothing really, didn’t learn till I was older that pretty much everything they made was repeatable at home or even in restraints. Not all grannies are killer cooks
Strawberry jam. Made from the strawberries grandpa grew in the back yard, and like 9 lbs of sugar.
Big time yes to this. I don’t even like strawberries but i always loved my grandmothers homemade strawberry jam
Her risotto… layers of rice mixed with parmesan, sauce, and topped with ground beef. It was just perfect.
Listen, I love my grandmas, but my sister and I are the only women in the family who should be allowed anywhere near a kitchen. The grandma who can cook tolerably consistently forgets dietary restrictions and doesn’t use salt
Yep my grandma would always do ready meals with that gross fake mash lmao
My grandma was an absolute redneck. The only foods that were especially noteworthy were the pan fried catfish; along with the canned tomatoes and green beans (but only because she grew them in her backyard.)
Everything else was a “secret recipe” straight from the back of a mayo tub. (Or similarly disconcerting.)
And the thing about the catfish is you do not want to know how much lard it was fried in. (Maybe the recipe came the lard box?)
I love her, though, and I have to be clear: she was not the “bad” kind of redneck.
Now grampa? Both his dad and grandfather were moonshiners, and I still have their heirloom recipe book. Apparently grandma didn’t know he kept a still in his shed. (Which, incidentally is where her mason jars disappeared to.)
Also need to shout out an honorable mention to my neighborhood Abuela. Not that’s she’s gone yet. Her Tamales will be missed by hundreds. And I have an arrangement- I provide tomatoes, peppers and garlic (which i grow,) and we split the resulting salsas and moles 50/50.
Id say her tamales were to die for- but really, all you have to do is ask. (Or catch a cold. A pregnancy is practically a lifetime supply…) (giving and sharing food is how she expresses that she cares, and she basically loves most people.)
I miss my granpa’s cooking. His “daube de boeuf” (a dish where beef morsels are slowly cooked in a red wine based sauce) was delicious and he would always make that simple but lovely dessert for me with a fresh fruit salad and gâteau de semoule. I miss him !
From my maternal Grandma: her arepas but not far off her pastina
From my fraternal Grandma: her empanadas and fish fry
Beef with lentils and red cabbage
Hotcakes with homemade syrup. Cracker Barrel syrup comes close.
Almost forgot about that: yes to home made syrup. My grandparents ran a farm so some things were just home made and in quantity. They had a huge front lawn of maple trees they tapped every year and we got gallons of the stuff
Shrimp biryani.
Only me and my dad like seafood in my family and so we dont really cook it anymore.
Her christmas cookies. She made them every year, and when she died, we realized that she didn’t write the recipe down anywhere.
It’s been nearly ten years now that she’s gone, and every christmas i wish she were still here; She was one of the few normal people in my family.
Yep there ain’t no cookies like grandma’s cookies!
Both of my grandmas were dead before i was born. One Grandpa died when I was 6 and the other was a shell of a man with a bitch wife.
Her cooking it. The joy in that kitchen was palpable. That’s what I miss the most. That’s what I’ll always miss the most.
