Certain foods from childhood can definitely play a part in shaping your identity. And, luckily, you can continue to make these foods to bring you back to the memories they represent.
My parents were first-generation American-born children of immigrants from territories in the former Soviet Union, and England. I have many memories of food and cooking contributing to shaping my identity during my childhood. One repetitive baking event took place about 4 times a year, for Jewish holidays, for family milestones, and by special request from a loved one. Mama made Hungarian pastries, and we all had to do our part to earn the first taste out of the oven later on in the day.
My mother (Mama Hilda) made us kids help her carry down a giant wooden pastry board from the attic; it was about 3 feet by 4 feet, with a wooden lip on both ends which made it grasp the long edges of the table. That way the board would not slide around when we used the rolling pin on the dough. She would use it to make Hungarian pastries, pie crusts, cookies, and cobblers, but the most revered of her recipes was the one handed down for generations: Hungarian Pastries.
Mama Hilda learned how to twist and turn the dough just so, from her mother and grandmother. Family traditions and secret ingredients were passed down with great care. It felt like there was a rite of passage in learning the right way, and then each generation would add a new secret ingredient to make the pastries taste even more delicious (if that was even possible). My mother's added secret ingredient was adding 7-UP to the dough and folding it in before refrigeration. She was convinced it made the layers of dough more flaky. Secret's out!
The pastries were similar to rugelach or Hamantashen, some small Jewish flaky pastries filled with nuts, jams, or poppy seed paste. I used to love helping roll out the dough on the giant weathered wooden board — the flour would fly, we would tune into an oldies radio station from the 40s and 50s on the radio, and have a ball! Then, we would spread the fillings out and make the scroll-shaped pastries. Aaahhh, the whole house was consumed in aromas that enveloped our senses until we were sweet-drunk off of the heat, spices, and music! Hungarian pastries are the food that defined my childhood identity.
What foods helped shape your childhood identity? I want to hear from you!
Blessings,
KJ Landis
@superiorself on Instagram and X
SuperiorSelf channel on Youtube
[email protected]
Books available everywhere!
My parents were first-generation American-born children of immigrants from territories in the former Soviet Union, and England. I have many memories of food and cooking contributing to shaping my identity during my childhood. One repetitive baking event took place about 4 times a year, for Jewish holidays, for family milestones, and by special request from a loved one. Mama made Hungarian pastries, and we all had to do our part to earn the first taste out of the oven later on in the day.
My mother (Mama Hilda) made us kids help her carry down a giant wooden pastry board from the attic; it was about 3 feet by 4 feet, with a wooden lip on both ends which made it grasp the long edges of the table. That way the board would not slide around when we used the rolling pin on the dough. She would use it to make Hungarian pastries, pie crusts, cookies, and cobblers, but the most revered of her recipes was the one handed down for generations: Hungarian Pastries.
Mama Hilda learned how to twist and turn the dough just so, from her mother and grandmother. Family traditions and secret ingredients were passed down with great care. It felt like there was a rite of passage in learning the right way, and then each generation would add a new secret ingredient to make the pastries taste even more delicious (if that was even possible). My mother's added secret ingredient was adding 7-UP to the dough and folding it in before refrigeration. She was convinced it made the layers of dough more flaky. Secret's out!
The pastries were similar to rugelach or Hamantashen, some small Jewish flaky pastries filled with nuts, jams, or poppy seed paste. I used to love helping roll out the dough on the giant weathered wooden board — the flour would fly, we would tune into an oldies radio station from the 40s and 50s on the radio, and have a ball! Then, we would spread the fillings out and make the scroll-shaped pastries. Aaahhh, the whole house was consumed in aromas that enveloped our senses until we were sweet-drunk off of the heat, spices, and music! Hungarian pastries are the food that defined my childhood identity.
What foods helped shape your childhood identity? I want to hear from you!
Blessings,
KJ Landis
@superiorself on Instagram and X
SuperiorSelf channel on Youtube
[email protected]
Books available everywhere!
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