I’m just a nerd girl who knows next to nothing about cooking. But I have to reverse-engineer my late grandma’s plum tarts one day.
My grandma insists seasoning and salt are unhealthy, but at the same time drenches everything she makes in fat. She grows all vegetables herself, it’s her point of pride. But she makes sure they get a large as possible, so all the taste and nutrition are diluted beyond comprehension.
But her pierogi are the best thing in the world.
Her risotto… layers of rice mixed with parmesan, sauce, and topped with ground beef. It was just perfect.
Carne asada con congris.
R.I.P Abuela
Oh she used to buy the dough and loads of meat and make pastel. She’d also put olives and eggs from time to time. Never found a pastel that tasted so good ❤️
Nothing really, didn’t learn till I was older that pretty much everything they made was repeatable at home or even in restraints. Not all grannies are killer cooks
Both of my grandmas were dead before i was born. One Grandpa died when I was 6 and the other was a shell of a man with a bitch wife.
It’s not so much the foods, though both were amazing cooks in their own ways, with some amazing standards meals they’d turn out. It’s them making it that really hits as a loss.
Both of them contributed to me learning how to cook, and in some ways I ended up improving on what I learned from them by virtue of having both.
But, if I had to nail down one specific meal/dish from each that I miss the hell out of, I think my paternal grandmother’s breakfasts are the most missed of hers. The woman could put on a spread! Eggs, grits, sausage, liver mush, biscuits, red-eye gravy, with her home made jams and jellies. Gods, you want to talk about feeding an army, when all of us grandkids would stay over at once, there would be her, my grandfather, one uncle, and eleven kids ranging from toddlers to teenagers at one point.
And she never missed a step, while doing it all with us young’ns under foot. She was damm fine baker, and a master of country cooking/soul food, but her breakfasts were next level.
My maternal grandmother could do that kind of cooking too, though not as well. Where she was a standout was with more of the suburban American cuisine. The roasts and casseroles and traditional holiday meals. I think those holiday meals are what I miss most, though her meatloaf and spaghetti were both amazeballs. My grandfather was a hunter, so some kind of bird would be featured often, be it goose, duck, or turkey. Sometimes as the only meat source, sometimes alongside a store bought turkey if a lot of the more distant family was showing up.
Even after she decided she was done babysitting a bird and my uncle took over that part with a deep fryer, her sides still wreck those I’ve had with other people. Sweet potatoes, three-bean salad, seven layer salad, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, deviled eggs, asparagus, peas, all kinds of options, sometimes with all of those, plus others, plus desserts. Most of the veggies were from their garden, though they would be home canned fur Christmas, and some would be for Thanksgiving.
It wasn’t that any given item was so good (though they were), it’s that all of everything either made was so consistently amazing. Never a flop, never a dud.
Her cooking it. The joy in that kitchen was palpable. That’s what I miss the most. That’s what I’ll always miss the most.
Rainbow cakes.
Her “strudel” not really actually strudel but just extra pie crust filled with whatever filling she had available, baked on a sheet pan
Her pie crust was from the red rose cookbook that just about everyone here era seemed to have had.
Cabbage rolls. My mom’s comes close but she doesn’t put the same effort in an there is a difference that is noticeable.
Her tomato macaroni casserole(I literally grew up thinking casserole was a specific dish like lasagna, or key lime pie and not a variety of dishes)
My dad’s mom’s Oyster Dressing. I do not miss merliton (chayote) though. She was from New Orleans but grew up rich, not a very dedicated cook, but that Oystah Dressin, I liked it and don’t know how she did it.
My mom’s mom was oh so southern and made such good biscuits and fried chicken, but what I miss are the pecans. After her abusive husband died (she divorced him at like 65 years old, finally had enough and he just left and died!). She had a pecan tree and would sit on her porch with her boyfriend and shell pecans for hours, and give us a bag when we left, I loved them.
Easter brunch. There was this whole tradition from Slovakia where she grew up, but no one took up the mantle. Even when the following generation made one of the dishes, it was never the whole tradition. Now my Easter’s are with my own family and I have no idea what the traditions all were.
And it started with nut rolls and other treats made well ahead of time. Granted an obscene amount of effort for one person.
The “cheese” was most distinct although not my favorite. It was an egg thing that was “cheesed”, or strained through cheesecloth to become denser, more solid. I always wondered if it was called equivalent to “cheese” in Slovakian or if that was a missing translation
Was it a cured egg yolk? Your description reminded me of that. https://youtu.be/kp6F7jW5cmI
No, but fascinating. I’d taste that, but damn the amount of time that went into that.
No in this case it’s simpler. I never had opportunity to see how it was made as an adult.
From a child’s perspective …… think like scrambled eggs, but hung in cheese cloth to drain. When put on the table, it’s the size and shape of a small loaf of bread. You cut in slices to serve and it’s the consistency of a soft cheese, maybe Monterrey jack.
My comment on the effort was for the overall thing. One woman made a feast for like 20 people. Some parts were simple, like ham and kielbasa. Some were more involved like the “cheese”. Some involved attention to many tiny pieces, like nut rolls. Some involved scale, like so many small loaves of bread. And there were always pecan rolls. Then there were so many different treats, all home made, all by one person. And she would not only be ready on time but early enough to pack a sampling into a basket to take to church and be blessed
It must have been weeks of effort by one person, gone in an hour
Fucking everything. All of it. But once a year on christmas, she used to do apple-stuffed roast duck in the oven with sauce.
You. Would. Not. Believe.
From my maternal Grandma: her arepas but not far off her pastina
From my fraternal Grandma: her empanadas and fish fry
