Every culture, every family, every race and religion has their own traditions. Each person comes from an eclectic background of sights, sounds, and tastes that help to create new traditions, while some of us also have foods and rituals that have been passed down for years, from maybe one or two generations to thousands of years.
As a Jewish person, most of my family’s traditions are rooted in the food. I’m not particularly religious- I’m what many would call a cultural Jew (or as we like to say, “jew-ish”)- so the feelings and stories I hold in my memories have happened around the dinner table.
The Jewish faith is based on the maternal side, and many believe that you’re only Jewish if your mother is Jewish and if her mother was Jewish, yada yada yada. I do believe our religion is based on mothers but because that’s where the good recipes come from. If you talk to anyone who grew up Jewish, they’ll tell you that their grandmother made the best (fill in the blank.) Brisket, charoset, gefilte fish, matzo brei, you name it- every single Jewish kid knows that nothing is better than their grandma’s. For me, it’s the matzo ball soup.
It’s my number one favorite food in the whole world. Sick? Matzo ball soup. Got a promotion? Matzo ball soup. Had a shit day? Matzo ball soup. Random Tuesday in the middle of June? You guessed it. There is nothing in this world that warms my heart, soul and belly like a good bowl of the stuff. And my grandma makes the #1 best.
The hilarious thing is that my mother, aunt, and I all make it the same way Grandma does but it really just never tastes the same. I’ve had her go over every single detail of the recipe with me and I replicate it but honestly, I think there’s a secret ingredient which is just the love of my grandma.
I actually have a reputation for matzo ball eating amongst family and friends, and if you’ve ever eaten it, you’ll probably be alarmed yet impressed.
I once ate 13 matzo balls…in one sitting.
It really wasn’t on purpose, I’d had about 8 while sitting at the table and then while cleaning up, I just kept reaching into the pot and shoving them into my face. That night created my own personal tradition: me stuffing myself with matzo balls and then looking at my mom about an hour later whining that my stomach hurt. This exact scene still occurs regularly and I’m a 29 year old grown woman. I just can’t help it.
I’m very close with my mom and my family but we’ve lived far apart from each other for many years now. Being separated from them is really hard, especially around holidays, and I don’t really identify with many of the major synagogues so I don’t feel comfortable joining one. That’s why having people in my life who want to partake in my traditions and customs, especially the eating part, makes me feel closer to home.
You could say that while I’m obviously a big fan of how it tastes, matzo ball soup also holds a very special place in my heart, and I love to share it. A good friend of mine from work is a lovely, exuberant, sweetly Southern girl from Georgia, and she absolutely loves matzo ball soup. We’ve done a couple of cooking lessons together but for the last 8 months, she has begged for me to teach her to make matzo ball soup and latkes. So a couple weeks ago, I made a tiny not-Seder Seder for a bunch of non-Jews and taught her to make the soup in the way that I’ve adapted from my own Grandma. (The latkes were bomb too but that’s for a later story and recipe.)
If I could bottle the pure joy that was on her face as she listened and cooked, and then ate, her own pot of matzo ball soup, it would sell for a million dollars. My heart fluffed up in size just like the balls in the soup because I got to share this thing that means the whole world to me with someone else that I love.
Sitting around the table with people I knew and some I didn’t, I felt such an extreme burst of happiness. I got to share my memories and traditions by making my favorite meal on this planet, which brought people together for a wonderful evening of storytelling and connection. I don’t know about much else in our society that links people to each other in such a strong way besides food, and that’s why I love it so much.
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Wonderful!
I know we don’t agree on the obsession w/ matzo balls, but that just means more for you!
My mother came from Cuba when she was 3, as soon as the fam got situated they started a soup kitchen for other Cubans. My mom, having nothing else to do, spend 100s of nights sitting in the kitchen watching my aunt cook up giant pots of traditional Cuban cuisine.
Later on when she was sick and I was old enough to cook she’d ask me to make her the meals she grew up cooking, so I did. She’d say it tasted just like ChiChi’s (my aunt).
Very few have tasted my cooking because it’s very personal to me, but I completely understand the swell of pride that comes from setting your favorite dish down in front of someone you appreciate, and watching their favorable reaction to something you lovingly crafted. ♥️
I love this, and I would love to taste your family’s meals!
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