Foodie Lit
Miriam's Kitchen by Elizabeth Ehrlich
I taught a course on the Holocaust for many years at a midwestern college. Now, retired, I decided after some urging, to donate my Holocaust book collection to the Charleston Library Society. It was difficult to part with books that meant a great deal to me but I am glad that others will be using my books. I held back a very few books, Miriam’s Kitchen among them. Therefore this book review is different from my others, not with an independent author and not a current book, as Mitiam's Kitchen was publsihed in 1997.
Food is very powerful when it comes to memory in all our lives. In the lives of Holocaust survivors, food has a special place linking past histories, families, homes and loss. There were times with little food, with insecurity, war and persecution.
Many survivors told me they dreamt of food when in the ghettoes or camps. And after the war, those that survived, were never totally out of that world. They did not waste food or clothing. They cherished families and the times that could be celebrated. “Nothing is wasted here, not a motion, not a bit of paper, certainly not a bit of food. Miriam’s father, ill with typhoid, died of starvation in Buchenwald. How could she throw away food, she asks … when her father died of hunger?”
Miriam’s daughter-in-law did not feel a great need to continue Jewish traditions. That was for another time and place. She was modern. She was progressive. She did not need the past. Yet she loved the seders at her grandmothers’ homes, her bubbes, where they cooked the Eastern European foods that are warmly remembered in this book. Although she was brought up in Detroit, New York felt like home. And after she had her own family, she wanted to learn her mother-in-law’s recipes. As Miriam cooked and baked, she told the stories of her youth, of the Holocaust and, like the tea that she steeped, Elizabeth’s being became infused with tradition. Suddenly it became difficult for Elizabeth to serve meat and milk together, part of keeping kosher. The pot she had made meat balls in was no longer suitable for pasta with Parmesan cheese. On Friday night, a family dinner with Jewish tradition and food were inextricably intertwined. It is not surprising that the sense of small is next to the place of memory in our brain.
The memoir moves easily among the different times in Elizabeth’s life. The organization is by the month, from September to September, the flow of the Jewish calendar. Celebrating the New Year, Rosh Hashanah, often in September, is the same 50 years ago and today. Sweet apples are dipped in honey and baked in cakes or noodle puddings. Round challahs filled with golden raisins and golden when brushed with egg wash. The smells of the holiday permeate the memories and ultimately the desires of the author to perpetuate not only the menus but the meaning behind the food.
After her first baby was born, she began to stop the takeout and cook more at home through the necessities of time and budget. Elizabeth writes, “I was finding a regular way in the kitchen as I was finding my way as a mother—fertile ground for dormant Jewish roots.” She pulled out a big wooden bowl and I too was thrust back into memories of my grandmother, then my mother and now me, making chopped liver or charoset for Passover with my grandmother’s chopper that fits perfectly into my hand, always chopping the food by hand in a large wooden bowl.
In a speech given at the New Westchester Symphony (Jul 19, 2014), Elizabeth speaks about her book. She shares that her mother-in-law rebuilt a shattered life by rebuilding her childhood kitchen. Elizabeth was lucky enough to learn Miriam’s recipes and learn traditions that her family had left behind. Miriam’s kitchen is both a real and a symbolic place. Women have transmitted traditions and spirituality in the kitchen, cooking and creating the home and the traditions, teaching and cementing them with the other women and girls in the kitchen with her.
Elizabeth’s journey, through food and history, is one that brings her closer to her Jewish roots and observance. Memories tie her to family, the past and lead her to the future. No matter your background, it’s a path you will love following.
Because we are already in the summer weather here in South Carolina, I chose a crisp salad, a Red Cabbage Salad that Miriam learned to make when they were poor immigrants, after the Holocaust, when she lived in Israel. These fresh simple ingredients were fabulous in Miriam's kitchen and will be in yours as well.
