One of the things I love most about what I get to do is finding a balance between keeping our food traditions alive and respected and making room for creativity. There’s always something to learn—and sometimes that lesson starts with someone asking about a food they haven’t had in more than 20 years.
“Have you ever made this?” they’ll ask. Sometimes I have. Sometimes I haven’t even heard of it! That was the case with teiglach. Someone asked, I learned, and I got to make something that carried memories and meaning for them.
Gefilte fish is always a joy for me. When someone tells me it tastes just like their aunt’s or grandmother’s, that means so much. I learned from my dad, who learned from my grandma. Getting to carry that tradition forward—and have it connect with someone else’s family memories—is a special part of this work.
Of course, every family has its own traditions. Some make sweet noodle—or lokshen—kugel. Some wouldn’t dream of making it sweet. The same dish can look and taste different from one home to the next, and everyone has a clear idea of how it’s supposed to be. Usually, it’s the way someone they loved made it.
Which brings me to our newest bakery addition: kichel!
The funny part is that I briefly forgot how the whole thing started. I remembered giving my pastry chef a recipe, and one day she brought out a batch for us to test. Then, about two weeks later, a friend said, “My mom asked me to follow up about whether you’ll be making kichel.”
Oh, right! Her mom’s request was what made me print the recipe in the first place!
I had to laugh. I get pulled in so many directions that I remembered the recipe and the testing, but somehow lost track of the conversation that started it all.
She came into the café and bought some, and I heard that it tasted just like her aunt’s. That made it all worth it.
But, as always, ask two Jews a question and you’ll get five answers. Our latest debate: should kichel be just a little sweet, or sweeter?
I think the answer depends on whose kitchen you grew up in.
That’s what I love about these foods. Along with the recipes come stories, opinions, and memories of the people who made them for us. I’m grateful that our kitchen gets to play a small part in keeping those connections alive.
What’s a food you haven’t had in years that you still think about? I’d love to hear about it.
