PICKLED EVERYTHING

Growing up in a Russian household means eating everything pickled....tomatoes, watermelon, cucumbers, cabbage, mushrooms, peppers, and every veggie fruit imaginable.  And as an adult I continue to be obsessed with everything pickled.  I remember being at Russian restaurants as a little girl and seeing pickles on the table accompanied by vodka of course.  I was eating pickles before it was even trendy ;)  And the vodka a few years later

Thanks Babashka for introducing me to pickled everything.  I know in Mother Russia pickling was a means to perserve food.  It was a way to eat foods even when they were not in season or available.  To this day my grandma will still have a jar of pickles out for my dad (and me) when we come over to eat.   I fall into a salt stupor, but it is just do delicious and somewhat healthy-I mean it is a veggie, right?  My favorite of all are pickled tomatoes.  Now these things are seriously addicting. I give it to all of my non russian friends to try and immediately addicted. Currently, in NYC every restaurant is doing the gourmet pickling thing, but the best of all is still the glass bottle of pickled tomatoes, put a fork in it and a pop of juicy goodness will take over your senses.  The ultimate snack or dinner or breakfast :)

One day I will try this recipe myself.

Ingredients

Tomatoes of varying ripeness (red or green) • Dill umbrellas with seeds • Horseradish leaves • Cherry leaves • Blackcurrant leaves • Garlic cloves • Tarragon• Summer savoury • Coarse grain salt • Water • Sterilised jars

Preparation

1. Sort tomatoes by size and ripeness, remove stems, wash in cool water.

2. For every 5kg of tomatoes use 75g dill, 30g horseradish greens, cherry leaves and blackcurrant leaves (don’t worry if you can’t find all of these leaves: while all are desirable, any one of three will do fine), 6-7 garlic cloves (peeled), as well as a half sprig each of tarragon and savory.

3. The amount of salt required for pickling depends on the ripeness of the tomatoes. Green or brown tomatoes need 70-80g of salt per litre of water. Red tomatoes need 100g of salt per litre.

4. Line the bottom of a sterilised jar with one third of the spice/herb/garlic mixture, with dill at the bottom.

5. Place tomatoes neatly on top of the spices until the jar is half full.

6. Place another layer of spice mixture on top of tomatoes, and then add one more layer of tomatoes. Place remaining spice mixture on top.

7. Add salted water, making sure tomatoes are completely covered, and seal jar.

8. Store for 2-3 months at 5 ºC. (Check periodically. If mould has started to form, open the jar, drain tomatoes and wash off mould in cold water. Make another batch of salted water, using 15-20pc more salt, and store once again.)

9. Open and enjoy. Remember, you should use a fork to extract the tomatoes.

Dedashka

So I have been putting of this post for a very long time.  It's been about 2 months since my grandfather died, yet I still feel as if he is alive.  My habit of calling my mom everyday and asking her "how's ded" still irks me; it's an automatic response. 


I guess living in SF makes it even more surreal because I feel as if once I go to Brooklyn I'll be visiting my grandparents..but only one will be there.  I really can't believe it sometimes since I still dream about him almost everyday.   He is alive and well in my dreams, he's still embracing me.  Him and I playing Dominoes, swimming in Brighton beach (him out-lapping me), eating shelled walnuts together, dancing together where I followed his amazing lead, me burping in his face, putting on shows for him with Becky, saying mean Yiddish sayings to provoke him, him always giving me candy and food (more than Babashka even), him sitting on the bench while I played, him walking me to the park everyday, with him being so excited for getting apples on sale,  watching concerts with him outside, him sitting at the head of the table drinking vodka,  with him screaming at me when I told him how much my watch cost, with him wearing the "have a nice day asshole" hat, him being quiet throughout the conversation except for those "ahhhs" or "oooos".......to him being scared to death as to what was going on, to him laying on the hospital bed with a NG tube through his nose, with him singing Yiddish songs with me, with him warming my hands because they were always so cold, with him finding out my sister was pregnant (and then forgetting), with him getting frail, with him unable to drink any liquids, with him sleeping a lot and becoming delirious, with him crying every time my sister and I left, with him staring into the ceiling with those large eyes, with him trying to be strong for all of us, with him terrified he was going to die.  He struggled so much the last year and I really do not want to remember him that way, but it's tough.  He was the strongest man I knew, never felt any pain and loved everyone unconditionally.  He never ever ever ever ever complained.  NOTHING ever hurt, everything was always good.  He was grateful for his life, however simple it was.


He always said I was the best granddaughter.  I tried hard to make him happy this last year, to entertain, to put on a smile, to dance and sing, but now I can't help but feel so sad.  So freakin sad that he's gone, that it sucks, that he'll never be back.  That he had to suffer like that.  He had a long, tough life but also a lucky one in which his life in America was easy and happy because of my grandma.  My grandmother took care of him incredibly well and they were one unit, it's weird when I think about her by herself.  For so many years with someone and then boom, no one next to you in bed, no one to cook for, no one to be responsible for, no one to say good morning or good night to.  I feel sad for my grandmother.  I feel sad for the hole he has left in my family.  I wish he could have seen his grand grand daughter.  I wish he could have been at my wedding and have seen my kids.  I wish he could have held them and just smiled with his humungous eyes and round face.  I miss him a lot.  I miss him so much.  I miss him more than I ever thought I would.  It just overcomes me at times and I feel sad, incomplete.  It probably will get easier but I love him and always will.  

Ih hob dikh lib! 

At Eric's bar-mitvah.  DANCING UP A STORM PER USUAL!

Cutting the CHALLAH with his Eric

Drinking, he did love his vodka and wine

Me being annoying and tape recording him.  We knew his diagnosis at this point.

Look at those eyes

Round faces, huge eyes, no wrinkles :)

He's probably saying "ooooo"

I love this picture, Bart helping my babashka with something technology related and Reg and Ded connected by their humungous cerebrums 

A typical Sunday meal at Baba's

Lot's of years, she knows him better than he knows himself

listening intently or in food coma

clearly being my annoying self and saying something inappropriate

lovable

decided to give him a hair transplant

A map

This is a map showing where Rezina and Ribnita (Ribnitsa) are in location to one another. They are very close to one another, just a river separates the two.  Rezina was Romania and Ribnita was Russia.

The beginning...

Going to Babashka's for a Sunday lunch is always nutty.  People screaming, arguing, talking about inappropriate subjects is the norm.  However, I am happy to say we finally began asking Babashka about her life, and she began from the beginning.  Here is the transcript thus far (translated into English as best as i can).  Also, it gets confusing at times and I tried my best to edit a bit in order to make it more clear.  There was a lot of chatter, interrupting, and the usual.

Babashka: My mother's last name was Katashiner and her three brothers moved to America when they were young boys, 1912 or 1914, before the first world war.  They came to America and all the boys went to America so they didn't have to go away to the army.  And they came to America, last name Katashiner, it's a long last name.  They became Kushner in America, an American name.  (Then family goes on to discuss all of their friends whose names were changed once they came to America)

Mom: tell us about the war
Jessica: from the beginning, day 1
Babashka: let me finish my Borsht!
Jessica: how old were you..
Babashka: let me eat

[Babashka finishes her Borsht and I ask many questions.  Much interrupting ensues]

[First day].... I wasn't home.  We were on vacation in Ribnetsu.  There is Rezina and Ribnetsu.  One side there is Romania (Rezina) and another side was Russia (Ribnetsa).  Ribnetsa was Russia and the border was closed because they freed us (Ribnetsa) 1940 before the war.  The Russians came and freed us, our part of Romania from the Romanian bad guys.  You were not allowed to go from Rezina to Ribnetsu, but you were allowed to go to Ribnetsu to Rezina. 


We lived in a house and had our own store with a toilet in the backyard.  We went to banya to shower and get clean.  I don't know what our parents did.  Eating there was better than what we had in America, all organic food.  So when there was vacation after school, our relative came and he lived in Ribnitsa.  He (my great uncle) came and took me and my brother, my brothers grandfather.  So we went there on vacation and were in Ribnitsa relaxing, playing.  There were lots of kids like us there. 


And then all of a sudden I heard, I was 10 years old, they were saying "war, war" and I didn't understand what that meant.  There was no radio then.  People were just saying that they announced a war.  So then planes were flying and there were bomb,  and shooting happened and everyone was crying and screaming and I went....there were boats and right when they announced the war, they closed the border and didn't allow people from Ribnitsu to Rezina.  We lived closer to Germany and there was a bridge that went from Ribnitsa to Rezina, we wanted someone to take us and bring us to the other side, but no one let us, no one would help us.  I remembered how hard I was crying and thought I would never see my mother again, and now I understood that a war was really bad.  And lots of people were crying and screaming and I just wanted to go home but I couldn't go home.  I remember going to people walking around and saying in Yiddish, "I want to go home" and crying and asking and no one would take us.


And after, my cousin who lives in Philadelphia now, she lived in Rezina with my parents and her boyfriend worked in Rezina, and was able to go to Ribnitsa.  So he was able to come take us and bring us home.  So he took us home, Fima, and we didn't sleep at home anymore.  This happened like two days after they announced a war.  When we came home, over the bridge, our whole village was on fire.  Like in a movie.  And we had grapes that we were growing, and our parents took us and we slept and hid in the grape vines.  The next day we came home, everything is on fire, bombs flying, mother took some shamta and threw it in a bag.  And we went to the border and an evacuation began and they opened the border and we were allowed to go through Ribnitsa to go to Russia (from Romania). 


And we moved there, and my sister's father lived there (aunt Miriam).  She lived there all her life and my dad never saw her for 22 years and he didn't see her because he lived in Romania and she lived in Russia.  He lived in Russia because he was a soldier when there was the czar's army.  [She talks about Russian history in relation to the Czar time and leningrad and how Romania was part of Russia at one point, etc.] My relatives lived in Russia and when the war started we went there, she lived in a village-Kolhoz (and she was killed by the Germans later on). 


We went on a horse and got there at night, bombs flying, rain pouring, thunder.  We didn't know if it was thunder or bombs, it was all together happening at once. We thought after two or three days ....everyone ran away with anyone they could run away with.  One of our friends went on a soldier's tank and got out that way.  Some people walked, on trains, people just ran away from the Germans anyway they could.  And we thought we would only stay two to three days and the war would be over, we had no idea it would be 5 years.  And we got there at night and my aunt was crying, "My favorite brother..i have not seen you in 22 years".  So many tears, they didn't know if one another was alive all that time.  We were there for 3-4 days and ran further away. 


They (my aunt) didn't run because they didn't understand, they thought the Germans would not touch them.  They were older and were in a ghetto, and their son and them survived, they didn't really kill Romanians then.  The Russian army helped them escape, my aunt said Ukrainians saved them, they helped them hide.  Her son, Alosha, was sick with Teef (tifus).  Many people were dying from this.  They wanted to kill him since he was basically dead and were taking out all the dead people.  The Ukrainians put him with the dead and were able to get him out to escape that way, and he survived. 


The older son was on the army front, and he was able to become a general, and he got through the entire war and when they finally freed Odessa he found out his sister, Gita, they had a lot of kids... there the Germans killed Gita and tortured her.  When the general returned to Odessa he wanted to know who killed his sister.  After the war, he was a General and they told him that there were such evil Ukrainian guys and they were the ones who killed her, and he just took out his gun and shot a bunch of Ukrainians.  They sued him, but he never went to prison because he was a general.  He would come to us to Lviv.  Many generals were Jews during the war.  They didn't say so, but after in America you found out how many generals were actually Jews in the war.

[And then Dedashka goes on to discuss Purim and what it is about]  

So we left off at Babashka, escaping from her aunt and uncle.  There is a lot more of the story to be heard...

Syrnaki (farm-cheese pancakes)

These are like the mother of Oladashkee. They are comforting, voluptuous, tender, and filling. Too much of them and you may feel nauseous. I love these cheesy sweet pancake type thinga-majigers. They are good for breakfast or as a snack. With some jam or sour cream on them or plane is good, too. I remember my grandma bringing these to the beach wrapped in paper towls, whether cold or hot they were always scrumptious. Biting into the soft cheesy texture feels very comforting, just like a mother :)               

INGREDIENTS:

• 1/2 contained of farmers cheese (or cottage cheese)
• 1 egg
• 1 tspn sugar
• pinch of vanilla
• 2 tablespoons of flour
• handful or yellow or brown raisins (if you want added sweetness)

DIRECTIONS:

1. Mix all ingredients together
2. Form balls of the batter (tablespoon size, 1/2 inch thick)
3. place balls on medium heat and fry on lightly coated pan (with vegetable oil)
4. when one side is golden brown (3-4 minutes), flip and repeat

My Babashka

This is my Babashka. Her name is Charna, last name Kaplan. Before it was Roitman (I think i spelled that right). Anyway, her life is beyond fascinating and not always in the happy fascinating type of way. But her life was real and everything she underwent was mind boggling. What's even more gripping is her memory. Her translucent long term memory is a trait to desire. She remembers absolutely everything, and I mean the specifics of every interaction, room, clothing, smells. You get the point. Therefore, I will use her memory to describe her stories, her life. This will be the medium she uses to tell her stories, her life....

I think this was me at like 12 at her apartment? maybe? Digging those glasses and braces.

Us at my college graduation

Russian Pancakes- Oladushki

I remember eating these ever since I could remember anything in my life. I would eat these anywhere and everywhere. My boldest memory is my grandma shlepping a container of these little pancakes to the beach. After swimming in the ocean and running around, these were the perfect little snack I needed. These remind me of summer so much because every since I was 2 I would spend my summer's in Brighton Beach eating these delicious pretty golden pancakes. I could eat 5 in under a minute-I devoured them. They are light, fluffy, and fruity pancakes that have a refreshing aspect to them-very different than your IHOP version. They don't weigh you down nor do they make you feel like a slob. They may be similar to the American counterpart, but for some reason taste and feel so different to me. For me, I smile and feel as if I am a little kid when I eat them, they bring back my Russian summers.

INGREDIENTS:

• 1 cup of plain yogurt or greek yogurt
• 1 teaspoon sugar
• 1 egg
  
• pinch of vanilla
• 2 teaspoons all purpose flour
• 1 apple, chopped
• 1/2 cup of buttermilk

DIRECTIONS:
1) Mix 1 cup of yogurt, egg, sugar, and vanilla
2) Add 2 teaspoons of flour and 1/2 cup of buttermilk and mix to "sour cream" consistency
3) Put apple in and mix
4) Coat pan with oil and take 1 tablespoon and put on the pan
5) Put a few pancakes on pan at one time
5) Cook on low and flip once side is golden brown
6) serve with sour cream, applesauce, or jam