"Just Eat It...(PLEASE)"

Ryan and his Grandpa, Bob Becker

SUSAN KEMPPAINEN IS THE VOLUNTEER/ACTIVITY PROGRAM COORDINATOR MIROWITZ CENTER AT COVENANT PLACE. She sat in on my three part "Writing Your Own Family Food Fable" class and was inspired to write her own family story. If you have kids, you can definitely relate to this one. Thanks Susan for this great story.

Five decades ago, when preemie care was still new science, I was born at 30 weeks and weighed 3 lbs., 4 oz. My grandmother said she’d bought bigger chickens. Since I was an itty-bitty thing and a picky eater, everyone worried I’d starve to death. In kindergarten, my grandmother carried me to and home from the bus stop, so I wouldn’t burn more calories than absolutely necessary. Still, I managed to grow into a healthy adult and was raising children of my own, when karma gave me a picky eater too. Every day, I sent my son to preschool with a lunch of blueberries, cereal, and milk. I knew it wasn’t the best, but cereal is fortified, right? When I discussed my stressful situation with his preschool teacher, she admonished me with, "Well, Ryan is never going to try broccoli, if you let him eat sugary cereals." Maybe she was right, but I was scared if I didn’t send him with foods he’d eat, he wouldn't eat anything at all.

So, what's a neurotic, Jewish mother to do? I tried all the tricks. I cut turkey sandwiches into hearts, involved him in the preparation process, and created colorful and fun foods like “ants on a log.” I even resorted to bribery, which had limited success. Ryan did lick a piece of steak once to get an extra toy during Chanukah. In grade school, he still only ate the usual kid choices: fries, chicken nuggets, pizza, hot dogs, cereal, and pasta. Then, something miraculous happened... He became a teenager! A teenager who wanted to eat all the time. A teenager who was willing to try new foods. A teenager who, even when he didn’t like what he was eating, would shrug and say, “It’s just fuel.” Mamas, if you’re worried your child is going to starve to death, I’m here to tell you he won’t. Keep introducing healthy foods and snack choices, offer an occasional bribe, and remind yourself this too shall pass. After all, our kids won't be walking down the aisle to a wedding feast of buttered noodles. But if they do, be happy we can buy fortified pasta.

" DON’T NEED NO MEASURIN’ CUP! "

I had the great pleasure of teaching a series of writing  classes through the Mirowitz Center in St. Louis. "Writing Your Own Family Food Fable" generated so many great ideas and I will feature the stories for the next few weeks on the blog. This week, a great piece written by Marilyn Brown . She creatively wrote it as a letter to her granddaughter, telling the story of of what she learned from her own grandmother. Enjoy reading!!!!

Marilyn and her Bubbie

 

Dearest Hannah,

I bet you think you have to measure ingredients in order to be a good baker, right?  Well, let me tell you about your great-grandmother (Bubbe).

She wasn’t much of a cook, although she really tried.  All meat had to be well-done…cooked to a black, charred mass.  And, of course, without much taste.

But, oh my, could she bake!  And she baked by “feel” not with measuring spoons or measuring cups. 

This ability to feel the dough really came in handy when my mother lost her focal vision due to ARMD.  She couldn’t see very well at all, so I would actually measure ingredients for komish bread.  Then she would knead the batter and roll out the strips to make those yummy treats.  I am so grateful to have been able to share this baking experience with her up to the end of her life.  And I think of her whenever I smell komish bread baking in my oven.

Another story for you, Hannah…one day I decided I really had to have Bubbe’s recipe for apple strudel.  So, the two of us took out all the ingredients – apples, nuts, flour, sugar, cinnamon, graham crackers, etc.  And then she got to work.

I insisted that she measure everything, so I could write down amounts and be able to duplicate the tasty treat in my own kitchen.  All went well…at first.  Bubbe was busy making the dough, measuring the flour, etc., just as I had asked.  And then I looked up from my note pad and saw her throwing a handful of flour into the bowl.  “Wait!” I cried, “how much more flour did you just add????”  

“I don’t know,” she sighed, “but the dough just didn’t feel right.”  Oh, boy, I thought.  Then I, too, felt the dough for future reference.  And, dear Hannah, it worked.  I can now make my mother’s wonderful apple strudel.  And I will pass down the written recipe to you.  But we will have to make apple strudel…and komish bread…together someday soon, so you can learn what “professional” strudel dough and komish bread batter feels like. 

 

Bubbe’s unwritten apple strudel recipe:

To make dough, mix this stuff into some kind of bowl…

Quite a bit of flour

Some oil (anything other than motor oil!)

Warm water…about twice as much as the oil

A bissel vinegar

Knead until dough feels right.

 

Roll out a clump of dough until it’s pretty thin…round or oval in shape.  Sprinkle the following onto the dough:

White raisins…at least a box

Graham cracker crumbs

Nuts

Cinnamon and sugar

Oil…put this onto the dough first

 

Filling:

A bunch of large apples, grated…and peeled…and cored

Maybe a cup of brown sugar

More flour

A bit of lemon juice

Another box or so of white raisins

More graham cracker crumbs, cinnamon, nuts

 

Put some of the filling onto the end of a piece of dough…roll up.  Put roll onto a cookie sheet.  Brush with oil, and sprinkle with cinnamon and sugar.  Slit.

 

Bake in a warm oven until done.

Marilyn Brown