Skip to main content

An ancient lunch

 This was my lunch today.



It is a slice of home-baked wheatgerm bread topped with sliced tomato, herbs de Provence, and shredded cheese.  Two months ago if I had made this lunch for myself I would have sent this photo to my friend Miriam. 


This photo would trigger memories of  English muffin pizza made with an English muffin, a slice of American or muenster cheese, a bit of ketchup, and if we were feeling extra fancy a sprinkle of oregano. That simple lunch of our childhood was at the same time the height of mid-century ultra-processed fake food and actually kind of delicious.


Those toaster-oven made lunches of our childhood also were the E-Z Bake Oven seeds of both of us becoming serious cooks. Sending Miriam this photo would have sparked a discussion and unleashed a waterfall of memories between the two of us. Perhaps we might have shared a recipe or two, memories of our mothers, or pushed one another to re-try one of our other childhood favorites.

Miriam is no longer alive to respond to this image. 


There are other quick messages that I haven't been sending to Miriam. I didn't tell her about the excellent babaganouj  I made last week without using techina. I wasn't able to tell Miriam about the frum podcast  I listened to that was discussing Roe vs Wade. 


There are so many quick messages that I won't be sending and won't be receiving.





Comments

  1. That reminds me of a favorite brunch/lunch/supper here - garlic, olive oil, herbs de Provence and diced (fresh or canned) tomatoes simmered together until thickening, then poach eggs in the mixture and serve the whole over your favorite toasted bread or roll. Known as "red eggs" in our family, these are a quick go-to, served with fruit on the side.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Oooh! A vaguely French version of Shakshouka!!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

I love hearing from my readers. I moderate comments to weed out bots.It may take a little while for your comment to appear.

Popular posts from this blog

מְחַיֵּה הַמֵּתִים

  וְנֶאֱמָן אַתָּה לְהַחֲיוֹת מֵתִים: בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהֹוָה מְחַיֵּה הַמֵּתִים   You are faithful to restore the dead to life. Blessed are You, Adonoy, Resurrector of the dead. That particular line is recited at every single prayer service every day three times a day, unless you use a Reform or Reconstructionist prayer book . In those liturgies instead of praising God for resurrecting the dead God is praised for  giving life to all.  I am enough of a modern woman, a modern thinker, to not actually believe in the actual resurrection of the dead. I don't actually expect all of the residents of the Workmen's Circle section of  Mount Hebron cemetery in Queens to get up and get back to work at their sewing machines. I don't expect the young children buried here or  the babies buried here to one day get up and frolic. Yet, every single time I get up to lead services I say those words about the reanimating of the dead with every fiber of my being. Yesterday, I e...

Connecting with the past

A few months ago I had a craving for my father’s chicken fricassee.  If my father were still alive I would have called him up and he would have talked me through the process of making it.    My father is no longer alive so I turned to my cookbooks and the recipes I found for chicken fricassee were nothing at all like the stew of chicken necks, gizzards and wings in a watery sweet and sour tomato sauce that I enjoyed as a kid.  I assumed that the dish was an invention of my father’s. I then attempted to replicate the dish from my memory of it and failed.   A couple of weeks ago I saw an article on the internet, and I can’t remember where, that talked about Jewish fricassee  and it sounded an awful lot like the dish I was hankering after. This afternoon I went to the butcher and picked up all of the chicken elements of the dish, a couple of packages each of wings, necks and gizzards. My father never cooked directly from a cook book. He used to re...

Revisiting a beloved piece

About thirty years ago I was asked to make an atara to be a gift  for Jerry.  Jerry was one of the founders of an alternative Hebrew school in our neighborhood. Jerry was also one of the people who forged an alliance between the older mostly German members of our synagogue and the young counter culture former ( and still hippies) that were the new lifeblood of our congregation nearly fifty years ago. At that point, it wasn't the easiest marriage between the old guard and the new guard but Jerry helped to break down the barriers between the suit wearing older folks and the ripped up jeans wearing younger folks. Jerry has prepared thousands of kids for their B'nai Mitzvah. He is a frequent and excellent Torah reader and for many years he organized Morning Minyan. Jerry had often said that his favorite biblical text is the following: (יא) כִּ֚י הַמִּצְוָ֣ה הַזֹּ֔את אֲשֶׁ֛ר אָנֹכִ֥י מְצַוְּךָ֖ הַיּ֑וֹם לֹֽא־נִפְלֵ֥את הִוא֙ מִמְּךָ֔ וְלֹ֥א רְחֹקָ֖ה הִֽוא׃ (יב) לֹ֥א בַשָּׁמַ֖יִם הִ֑...