A question from Susan

Hi Frank,

I'm halfway through your book, and just wanted to say it's wonderful! I particularly love the way you articulate the relationship between food and family - I don't think I've ever seen anyone capture the "food is love - and sometimes too much love" concept as beautifully and with as much feeling. I especially enjoy the descriptions of your grandmother cooking (the sleeveless housecoat, the flip-flops - this took me right back into my great-aunt Ida's kitchen in Canarsie, and sometimes my parents' kitchen when Ida woudl come for Passover a week early and cook there. Don't even ask about the time I was in college and she made gefilte fish - from scratch. You couldn't leave the house without attracting dozens of cats, but God, it tasted good.) I also loved the Thanksgiving countdown, which is hilariously reminiscent of every Thanksgiving and Jewish holiday I've experienced throughout my life, regardless of whether I'm doing the cooking or someone else. (I'm only 36, so I haven't done that many - but I recognized the list-making!)

I did want to share one food memory that you brought vividly to my mind. My wonderful Ida passed away about four years ago, and perhaps three years before that she finally, after years of begging, taught me to make her kreplach - from scratch. My husband and I went to her house in Staten Island where she demonstrated the cooking of the meat - must be beef shoulder, cooked with two onions - then the required double-grinding of the meat with the onions (plus the other two onions you fried in addition!). Then she taught me to make the fabulously stretchy dough, and we sat at the kitchen table to begin the wrapping of the kreplach. This, quite frankly, was a process that took hours! You see, much like your grandmother, Ida could never make a small batch of anything. Why make a dozen blintzes when you could make six or seven dozen and ship them to your grandchildren in RIverdale or Los Angeles? Why make a couple dozen kreplach when you could make nearly 200 (yes, really - her recipe makes close to 200. And it's the only recipe I have that matches the taste memory, so I'll never use another. Ever.)

So we sat and began to fill/wrap/fold, listening to Israeli music and gossiping. My husband got bored after an hour and went out. He returned nearly two hours later - and we were still filling/wrapping/folding, though we'd finally progressed to cooking the kreplach in boiling water (they were sooo good.) I've now made her recipe twice since she passed away, each year before Rosh Hashana. I literally set aside a day - and my secret ingredient is a picture of Ida that I keep on the table next to me, as if the photo will direct me shoudl I make a mistake. I know it sounds crazy, but the one time I tried it without the photo, nothing came out right.

So I look forward to finishing your book - and I can't wait to pass it on to my mother - I know she will absolutely love it! Thank you for sharing these memories and poignant stories about your own struggles with food. I relate all too well, and can't wait to see what you do next.

Best,
Susan