Bring People Back From The Dead-Make Their Recipes

Philadelphia Inquirer, FOOD&DINING, Thursday, January 7, 2016, Page F1

Rekindling delicious memories

By Ann Rappoport FOR THE INQUIRER

Handwritten recipes are best for cooking from the past. istockphoto

Perhaps you’ve noticed: If you want to bring people back from the dead, make one of their signature recipes. Preferably from their own handwriting.

Granted, these days it’s far less efficient to wade through dog-eared binders and recipe-card boxes and much easier to find recipes online. But I recently made Aunt Toots’ noodle kugel, and it felt as though I were in her kitchen talking with her.

Last year, at the memorial service for a friend, Paula Garvin, a recipe for her plum cake was included on the lovely program. It resembled a tart I’d adored from a deceased relative of mine from Germany, so Isaved it for blue plum season last fall. When I made it, it seemed to replay memories of the times we shared at adult school meetings, at civic events, and her time on the school board.

Frank Sessa had been a close friend of ours for decades. He and my husband were the kind of buddies you’re lucky to find in a lifetime. As couples, the four of us had developed our Saturday-morning routine of walking to a favorite breakfast spot. During the later stages of his illness, that spot became our patio.

Frank always went to great trouble on behalf of his friends, putting his various skills at our disposal whenever. When we needed help replacing a door or a floor, he was there. Once, he made us his family’s Italian wedding soup. I gather it cost him almost a week’s preparation. But then, he was a chemist. I’ll never even attempt that recipe, but as he loved my deviled eggs, we summon him in that way. We feel a soothing aspect of his presence in this custom.

When my mother-in-law was alive, Iconfess I didn’t fully appreciate her macaroni salad. It combined a unique, tiny, and delicate ring pasta with abundant bunches of all the fresh herbs her incomparable garden put forth. She added crumbled, hardboiled egg and tuna and went very light on the dressing. A tad strong for my younger taste, those samplings were tantalizing enough to kindle compelling cravings years after her death. Hurrah for the expansion of that Rochester chain that produces the singular ring macaroni that my husband maintains is required to duplicate this recipe. Together with our own herbs, and some from the grocery, we’re now able to restore some of the essence of Paul’s mom’s kitchen. In trying to do so, I ask her forgiveness for brushing off too many of her masterpieces.

Like her homemade pickles from homegrown cucumbers, garlic, and dill. How dare she leave us without that recipe. Perhaps that was her inadvertent parry to her shortsighted daughter-in-law.

My mom still spends lots of time in the kitchen with me, though she died in 1998. I’m not saying I follow her recipes faithfully. But my sister does, and our yearly attempts together to replicate Mom’s scratch marble cake have become as legendary in the family as the cake itself.

When Mom and I are alone in the kitchen, we banter affectionately and spar over specifics. Any time I decrease the butter, she raises her eyebrows and purses her lips at me, indicating that I’m sacrificing taste and texture for potential health. I say potential, because she lived to 83, and I haven’t made it there yet.

When my back begins to spasm, I tell her how sorry I am for the struggles she endured while trying to make our favorite feasts when all the kids and grands converged on home for a visit.

When one of Mom’s recipes says “enough milk to dissolve the sugar and cocoa; don’t overstir,” I beg her to be more precise.

The moral of that story came too late for me. I should have apprenticed more, attended more closely to the process when it was going on — rather than just to the tasty reward. The next generation has the benefit of digital cameras and videos to capture the “pinches” of this or that, and the difficult-to-replicate touches that written recipes can’t always convey. My advice is to employ all of the technologies available, tasting as you go.