The Smells of Yontif As I was growing up, I often wondered if I would be able to remember the smells of Yontif. The smells that only peeked out during certain times of the year. Smells that can take me directly back to an apartment in Brooklyn- My Grandparents home. Amazing how certain things, like smells, can journey us across time as if time never moved forward. And that aluminum table, the bridge chairs and Grandma’s dishes. Oh, those dishes. I can even remember the plates with chips in them. Today, they look like they have spider veins, but every mark is a remembrance of a special time. Suddenly, flowers appeared, everyone was dressed up, and off to shul we went. But, still –that wasn’t Yontif to me. It was the smells of Grandma’s brisket, her honey cake, the chopped liver, (she chopped it in a wooden bowl with a rounded knife.) the stuffed cabbage and the kreplach soup. I don’t know why – but we only had kreplach soup on Yontif. That was what did it for me. Then I knew for sure it must be Yontif. There was Grandma in her cobbler apron, busily creating the most amazing smells and making sure everyone ate enough. I don’t even remember her ever sitting down at the table. She cooked with a magic that no one could replicate – Except Mom. The house in the suburbs was so different from the sights and smells of the city. But, traditions persevere and then- there was Grandma and Grandpa, honking their arrival from Brooklyn from half way down the street, much like the shofar announces the arrival of the New Year. Their car, loaded with groceries (only available in Brooklyn I thought), helped to continue our family’s traditions. And I -I watched with wonder. And listened. Grandma and Mom’s conversation and easy partnership in the kitchen were for me a life time of love. Of family life. Of tradition. And then there was my little girl in that same kitchen learning all about the dough. “You can tell by the feel” Mom told her and she could. And today – as my kitchen is filled with the same Yontif smells ( I did it Mom and Grandma I really did it!) Those special smells take me back instantly to the time our family traditions began. I am wondering if my tears of long ago memories dripping into that special dough is what makes my kreplach taste so good. I know for sure, I had the best teachers. And, this Yontif, as I look around my table, I will see those who are there. But..I will also see those who are not there and remember them with love. We will all smile as we wish each other Shana Tova and smell the smells of Yontif together.
Posted on: Sun, 21 Sep 2014 17:10:17 +0000