Food associations
Jul. 16th, 2002 01:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
magid(Yet again, inspired by Tigerbright's journal entry, though not as nicely formed as hers.)
Some people, places, and times (none particularly recent) that have particular associations, in no particular order.
Growing up in my parents' house, Shabbat meant roasted chicken (which I don't remember as dry as Teddywolf apparently does, though that could be because even then he preferred the white meat, which is harder to keep moist), and cauliflower as the "second" vegetable (the main vegetable varied week by week, but Shabbat meant there would be two veggies). Also soaking challah in chicken drippings (ah, the time before this was a guilty pleasure.), and, Shabbat morning, slices of leftover challah with butte r and honey (honey travels faster over buttered bread than plain...). Once in a while instead of the chicken there was stuffed roasted breast of veal. I'm not very pc- it tasted good.
Of all the holidays, Passover is the one with the strongest food asso ciations, not surprisingly. Passover is matza brie for breakfast (matza meal pancakes for Wolf), on one of the two light green opaque dishes Dad had bought when he was single, if I could manage it. Passover is all the seder food, of course, but the best part is the thought of Mom's tzimmes, made only then, a wonderful meaty starchy-sweet concoction (pieces of flanken, onions, potatoes, sweet potatoes, carrots, and Oregon tart prunes cooked with some orange juice and honey. Leftover matza balls might find their way in as well. Completely wonderful.). Also the boxes of chocolates that had a map inside of the different flavors, which only seemed to come into our house then.
Mom is not a fancy cook, despite the occasional cheese souffle. I admire her for managing to feed her family more vegetables than most; she also cooked with tofu far before the more recent wave of soy-obsession. I don't believe I will ever make a lasagna to rival hers, and I still remember summer dinners of meunster cheese melted over sauteed onions and zukes fondly. Weird, I know. Oh, and biscuits, a casserole of veggies and tuna and cream of mushroom soup topped with drop-biscuit dough. We ate a lot more fresh fish than I can bring myself to afford these days, too. I think, in the end, that Mom is someone not really inspired by food and cooking, who managed to get reasonable food on the table without resorting to premade/TV dinners anyway.
Dad is homemade tomato sauce from scratch, barbequeing the Thanksgiving turkey, and "garbage" soup (any and all veggies in the fridge being fair game). He had a long commute when I was growing up, so he didn't do much of the cooking. Dad is also the other person who liked sweet pickles.
Wolf is spaghetti and other long thin pastas, along with a homemade sauce made just so (an inch-long piece of carrot finely minced comes to mind). Wolf is pizza, and cucumber slices with Italian dressing, grapefruit and cranberry juice, apple turnovers and popovers. He is also the other person vying for the best leftovers...
[and how could I forget ravioli, and ketchup with fishsticks? (yes, that order is intentional!) and hamburgers with ketchup on top and mustard on the bottom (or was it the other way 'round?)?]
Jerusalem is aish tanur (big flatbreads, no pocket), straight out of the oven, tuna baguette sandwiches (sort of like a grinder (that would be a sub for you non-native Massachusetts people), but hummus instead of mayo, then flakes of tuna, then the rest of the veggies), rectangular potato borekas. Jerusalem is shopping for produce in Machane Yehuda, up and down the covered alleyways, careful not to trip when there were stairs up and down these 'streets,' listening to the vendors, looking at the produce, and to see if tithes had been taken (I was teased by other people in my school about how many times I ended up there each week...). Looking at produce I wasn't familiar with: persimmons, fuzzy green new almonds, exciting citrus variations. Also looking at the amazing array of pickles (not just cucumbers, by any means), and roasted nuts, grains in big sacks, candy in amazing profusion, spices and spice mixes I'd not heard of before. But I was always getting produce first. Jerusalem is findin g one of the two places that sold tofu, and choosig the chunk I wanted from the pail of them submerged in water. Jerusalem is also getting felafel at a stand where I could replenish veggies as I ate, and choose between the red or the green harif (spicy sauce). It's also caramel donuts on Channukah (why don't we have those here?), and the challenge one year of cooking with only two burners and no oven. Oh, and melawwach (sp?), a sort of greasy layered dough that was cooked and served with either savory or sweet toppings.
Josh-in-Israel is making Chinese food together, slicing the veggies just so for each dish. He is eating untwisted challah rolls fresh from Angel's bakery, and (since the trip two years ago, finding him again the last night I was there) dinner in a small Italian restaurant off Agrippas St., and the gift of a lemon off the tree in his yard.
And I think that's all for now (aren't you glad, if you've made it this far?). Possibly more to come, though.
.
Some people, places, and times (none particularly recent) that have particular associations, in no particular order.
Growing up in my parents' house, Shabbat meant roasted chicken (which I don't remember as dry as Teddywolf apparently does, though that could be because even then he preferred the white meat, which is harder to keep moist), and cauliflower as the "second" vegetable (the main vegetable varied week by week, but Shabbat meant there would be two veggies). Also soaking challah in chicken drippings (ah, the time before this was a guilty pleasure.), and, Shabbat morning, slices of leftover challah with butte r and honey (honey travels faster over buttered bread than plain...). Once in a while instead of the chicken there was stuffed roasted breast of veal. I'm not very pc- it tasted good.
Of all the holidays, Passover is the one with the strongest food asso ciations, not surprisingly. Passover is matza brie for breakfast (matza meal pancakes for Wolf), on one of the two light green opaque dishes Dad had bought when he was single, if I could manage it. Passover is all the seder food, of course, but the best part is the thought of Mom's tzimmes, made only then, a wonderful meaty starchy-sweet concoction (pieces of flanken, onions, potatoes, sweet potatoes, carrots, and Oregon tart prunes cooked with some orange juice and honey. Leftover matza balls might find their way in as well. Completely wonderful.). Also the boxes of chocolates that had a map inside of the different flavors, which only seemed to come into our house then.
Mom is not a fancy cook, despite the occasional cheese souffle. I admire her for managing to feed her family more vegetables than most; she also cooked with tofu far before the more recent wave of soy-obsession. I don't believe I will ever make a lasagna to rival hers, and I still remember summer dinners of meunster cheese melted over sauteed onions and zukes fondly. Weird, I know. Oh, and biscuits, a casserole of veggies and tuna and cream of mushroom soup topped with drop-biscuit dough. We ate a lot more fresh fish than I can bring myself to afford these days, too. I think, in the end, that Mom is someone not really inspired by food and cooking, who managed to get reasonable food on the table without resorting to premade/TV dinners anyway.
Dad is homemade tomato sauce from scratch, barbequeing the Thanksgiving turkey, and "garbage" soup (any and all veggies in the fridge being fair game). He had a long commute when I was growing up, so he didn't do much of the cooking. Dad is also the other person who liked sweet pickles.
Wolf is spaghetti and other long thin pastas, along with a homemade sauce made just so (an inch-long piece of carrot finely minced comes to mind). Wolf is pizza, and cucumber slices with Italian dressing, grapefruit and cranberry juice, apple turnovers and popovers. He is also the other person vying for the best leftovers...
[and how could I forget ravioli, and ketchup with fishsticks? (yes, that order is intentional!) and hamburgers with ketchup on top and mustard on the bottom (or was it the other way 'round?)?]
Jerusalem is aish tanur (big flatbreads, no pocket), straight out of the oven, tuna baguette sandwiches (sort of like a grinder (that would be a sub for you non-native Massachusetts people), but hummus instead of mayo, then flakes of tuna, then the rest of the veggies), rectangular potato borekas. Jerusalem is shopping for produce in Machane Yehuda, up and down the covered alleyways, careful not to trip when there were stairs up and down these 'streets,' listening to the vendors, looking at the produce, and to see if tithes had been taken (I was teased by other people in my school about how many times I ended up there each week...). Looking at produce I wasn't familiar with: persimmons, fuzzy green new almonds, exciting citrus variations. Also looking at the amazing array of pickles (not just cucumbers, by any means), and roasted nuts, grains in big sacks, candy in amazing profusion, spices and spice mixes I'd not heard of before. But I was always getting produce first. Jerusalem is findin g one of the two places that sold tofu, and choosig the chunk I wanted from the pail of them submerged in water. Jerusalem is also getting felafel at a stand where I could replenish veggies as I ate, and choose between the red or the green harif (spicy sauce). It's also caramel donuts on Channukah (why don't we have those here?), and the challenge one year of cooking with only two burners and no oven. Oh, and melawwach (sp?), a sort of greasy layered dough that was cooked and served with either savory or sweet toppings.
Josh-in-Israel is making Chinese food together, slicing the veggies just so for each dish. He is eating untwisted challah rolls fresh from Angel's bakery, and (since the trip two years ago, finding him again the last night I was there) dinner in a small Italian restaurant off Agrippas St., and the gift of a lemon off the tree in his yard.
And I think that's all for now (aren't you glad, if you've made it this far?). Possibly more to come, though.
.