Traditions
Here we stare the holidays square in its face (or faces, if you prefer). This is a time of joy, of rekindling friendships, forging new ones, and of acknowledging that we all celebrate something during the darkest time of year (here in the Northern Hemisphere). As a kid, I, and many others I’m sure, loved this time for its pure anticipation of the eventual. There was something we all looked forward to on Christmas whether it was the presents (definitely), the food (probably), and the family visits (maybe?). For me, all presents aside, I truly anticipated the food. What was to be unleashed forth from the gates of Christmas Eve were the pungent smells of a Polish-American dinner, delicious cookies, and scrumptious pies. Food upon food upon food seemed to stack itself much like the Tower of Babylon on our vintage 1950’s green unstable fold-out table. The pungent scent of the garlic infused fresh Polish kielbasa filled my nostrils with such strength that it seemed as though I were tasting it before it even sat on my plate. Pillowy pierogies filled with cheese and green onions, fried in butter beckoned us all to partake in its fattening deliciousness. The pistachio cream pies, the lime jello molds, the seven layer bars, the powdered nut balls, and the anise cookies…oh, the amazing anise cookies…white meringue shaped gems with a sprinkle of anise seeds in the center. These foods are the stuff of legends. These are the ingredients of beautiful anticipation. These, truly, are the arches of tradition.
Here I am now in my early thirties and I find myself holding, somewhat reluctantly, the torch of tradition without knowing what to do with it. The fast paced lives we all seem to lead do not lend much to fostering, rekindling, or even starting traditions. The most we seem to do with our families is “go somewhere.” As every year passes we all seem to lose this heart of tradition that seemed to carry itself freely until the recent past. Many families tend to lead separate lives, move away, or just fail to keep lines of communication active. This is sad. I know this because I’m just as guilty as the next person of perpetuating this cycle. But, as this time of year approaches we are given an opportunity to light the torch again. We are given the most wide open door through which to open our arms and embrace tradition. This Saturday my door will open.
An old family recipe for traditional Polish pierogies is being passed to me. My mother, who is surely spry, is taking the opportunity to pass on the oral recipe to me while she is still able to. I will do what she directs and, hopefully, these doughy concoctions will actually turn out to be pierogies. I’m nervous about this not because I feel my skills are not up to par, but because everyone else who has tried to make these pierogies just hasn’t hit the level of gastric genious that my mother was able to. The situation is very similar to a recipe for czarnina (duck’s blood soup) that one of my aunts perfected. Whenever anyone else made an attempt to make it (including my mother)…well…put it this way: duck’s blood soup can be as sickening as it sounds if not cooked properly. Nonetheless, I’m staring a curse right in its beady eyes. Hopefully I’ll perfect and record this recipe as should have been done some time ago, once I’ve tested it fried with butter in a cast iron skillet…the way it should be.
Tradition is taking on a new meaning for me this weekend. So often I forget that I do have a heritage and it is at this time of year that we can revisit these traditions. I ask you all to sit back and relax. Think about the things that made you anticipatory during the holiday season. Recall the unforgettable smells of the food, the taste of the sweet desserts, and the sleepy fullness we all know so well after stuffing our stomachs full of this tradition.
Until next time, have a great holiday and feel free to pass on your own traditions via the comments. I’d love to hear how other families traditionally spend/spent time together during these days of revelry.
I’m so envious of that scene you just painted.
I had nothing of the sort. My family typically picked up the holiday ham, turkey, or chicken. Baked for 45 minutes, served with canned vegetables, potatoes mashed with butter and crème and possibly some Stove-Top stuffing on the side. All of it came straight from the local Oak Ridge grocery market.
A big deal was never made about the meal. We all sat around watching Lions football (which no one was actually a fan) and barely uttered a word aside from how much everyone hated their jobs.
Talk never surrounded music, art, current events, politics, etc… Instead it was a match of who had it worse. I guess in a way, this was my tradition.
I recall the smell of kibbee baking in the oven as my sitti (Lebanese word for grandma) and her sisters prepared various Middle Eastern dishes to serve with more traditional American food (e.g. kibbee and Middle Eastern salads with turkey, stuffing, and cranberries). I really miss watching the older generations prepare these foods (I haven’t had homemade baklava in years). Unfortunately, my parents’ generation never sought to learn the native traditions of their parents. I guess this had to do with wanting to assimilate into American culture (unlike today, when people tend to embrace both their ethnic and American identities). I would love to learn how to cook and bake Lebanese foods. Although I haven’t eaten meat in a decade, I can still recall the taste of my sitti’s kibbee!
How did pierogi making go?
Both sides of my family are Polish, but it was mostly my grandma on my mom’s side that I really remember cooking all of the traditional Polish foods, and at 87, she still does cook some of them from time to time. My dad’s side of the family, which is the second and third generation, cooks more traditional American food on the holidays.
Unfortunately, I was never a huge fan of Polish food, although there were a few dishes that I really liked. One of them was city chicken. Cas, did your family ever make this? When I was doing a research paper on Hamtramck I found out that although city chicken is considered a Polish food, they did not eat it over in Poland, it is more of a Polish American phenomena. I found this really interesting. Apparently during the depression chicken was more expensive than veal and pork so they would emulate chicken by combining these two meats on stick. It’s really good and this is a dish that was a staple (you know how they say that each family only makes something like eight dishes over and over) in my step-mom’s house, then my dad’s house, and my mom’s house.
Devon, I’m not sure if you had the baklava at the holiday party, but I’m pretty sure it was homemade by Natalie.
The pierogie making actually went pretty well. The pierogies came out exceptional for the most part except that I was a little light fingered on the salt (my snobbiness about not using a measuring spoon for salt bit me…) and some of the dough was just a smidgen too think, but apparently this is a popular choice amongst my family members (i.e. Delphina). So, overall, the more than 60 I made came out great. Besides learning the steps, which were frighteningly simple, I was left with a sense of great accomplishment and a closeness I haven’t felt with my mom in a while (not that we’re not close, but this was something of a spiritual nature). I had an amazing time.
Yes, my mom made city chicken a lot, actually. She did use veal and pork on skewers and breaded them. She would then bake them after a quick drop in hot oil. I always thought they were really delicious and apparently so did a lot of my family because when it came to having city chicken for a banquet (which seemed to happen quarterly, if not monthly during my childhood, with weddings, deaths, first communions, graduations…) my mom was always tasked with the job of making over a hundred of those suckers. Good stuff, though.