Our beloved Aunt Debbie, the one with the laughing eyes and infectious giggle, the hug that smooshed into you, the keeper of Sefardi tradition and family recipes, died this past Shabbat. We are all feeling somewhat lost and very sad. We spent many Pesah sedarim and Rosh Hashana dinners at her table, always filled with Greek and Turkish goodies appropriate to the season and holiday.
The minute you walked into her kitchen for Pesah, you were treated to what my husband always called "booms": bumuelos, delicious little nuggets of matza and apple, deep fried and sweetened with honey. The seder, conducted these last few years by Uncle Joe and Perry, featured a whiny Sefardi mnemonic that helps to keep the place in the long ritual, began with the seder plate carried by Debbie, and later, by her daughter-in-law Karla, to insure everyone's wish for the next year would come true.
The haroset was spectacular and unmatchable. We always left with a little jar for the rest of the week, to be spread on matza, served as a side dish or used as a dip for raw vegetables.
In the last few years, Debbie asked me to take over making the prassa, or leek-potato latkes. I tried and tried, but I never thought mine were anywhere near as good as hers. Last year she told me they were pretty close, and all I had to do was make them a little smaller and thicker. That's high praise from someone who made them her whole life, first at Grandma Jennie's side, and then as the accomplished cook she became.
I didn't know what to do with myself Saturday night. We were so sad and had spent much of the day crying and reminiscing. So I went to my kitchen and made a big pot of soup. That was a little of my grieving, with food.I'll cry more preparing in just a few weeks for this Pesah.
But I'll remember to make the prassa a little smaller, and a little thicker. Thanks for everything, Aunt Debbie.We'll love you forever.