The Palmier: Heritage Edition by The Palmier

THE PALMIER Heritage Edition

Some of my fondest memories are cooking in a kitchen or eating with family and friends, and I’m sure the same applies to a lot of you. Food is such an effective form of expression because it contains so much more than just nutrients; cooking and sharing a meal is personal, and when done properly, you can taste the time, effort, and love in every bite. The reason I joined The Palmier in the first place is that I believe we have the potential to create a really special space within these pages and on our website. I, along with Dillon, Megan, and the rest of our staff, want this edition to feel like one long communal table, a place where all can come and bring their contributions to be recognized Palmier member or not. We also recognize that Heritage is very personal, and that everyone will relate to the Heritage Edition differently. Soup as a Love Language may remind you of your own grandma’s cooking, or you might also look forward to a bowl of Soup Joumou every year on January 1st. Regardless of how you connect to this edition, we hope you all enjoy reading these stories and cooking these recipes as much as we did. Happy reading and (most importantly) happy eating!

Dear Readers,

The idea for this edition came to me last summer in the very early days of The Palmier. A few months into quarantine, I had rewatched “Salt Fat Acid Heat” and “The Great British Bake Off” more than any person reasonably should, and in search of another food show, I found “Taste the Nation” hosted by Padma Lakshmi. She showcases chefs across the country in their ethnic enclaves and highlights how their foods and traditions are part of America’s cultural fabric. I was drawn to the show because it emphasizes for me what I love about food: its diversity in flavor and style across regions sparks curiosity and fosters connections with others. Growing up in New York City was such an integral experience to my realationship with food because the city houses so many vibrant immigrant communities. I’m incredibly grateful for that chance to experience a wide range of cultures through the foods they brought here, including those of my own family from the Caribbean.

Malcolm Cox ‘23 - Director of Marketing & Advertising & Editor-in-Chief of the Heritage Edition

Sophie Dorst ‘24

Armenian AnecdotesAncestry

Powerful Polish Pastries: Discovering Identity Through Food Peyton Krinsky ‘24

The Open Door to My Heritage

Patlican Oturtma Isabell Gurel ‘22

Table of Contents

Mast O Musir & Salad e Shirazi Chloe Nia ‘24

A True Ethnic Blend

Polenta Party

Vicki Tran ‘23

Great Grandma Claire’s Mandel Bread Maddie Katz ‘24

Aditi Mehndiratta ‘24

The Taste of Freedom Abigail Vixama ‘24

Hailey Swett ‘24

Soup as a Love Language

Vegan Challah Violet Kopp ‘24

Madison Wong ‘23

HERITAGE EDITION 04

Cooking Lessons

To Throw Away Bread

A Jewish Twist on Thanksgiving

Ariana Mehrotra ‘23

What It Takes To Make Authentic Pierogi Grace Hamilton ‘24

Paige Buller ‘24

Spaghetti for House and Home Gia Magnoni ‘24

Cbarlotte Ko ‘24

Asli Kocak ‘24

Stir Fried Napa Cabbage and Yuba

New Year, More Seaweed Chelsea Wong ‘23

I never realized how lucky I was to have a gourmet chef cook all of almost every night about the horrendous dining conditions I had to enut in the dining hall it was the only way to eat vegetables. I would call my grandmother sobbing, telling her how I couldn’t take another salad and how desperate her stir fried napa cabbage mom o b hen s he p p t o the school in her rental car, the last thing I expected was my elementary school container in me it a gift grandmother and that I should refrigerate it and have it for dinner. That night, it in the micro the scents of pepper and the ime s ince a n t o a m he t estament t s for me no bounds and hat a he napa cabbage a dish, to me, no longer holds just the memories of my childhood appetite. It now also reminds me that when I felt the most alone in my life she heard me and made it known to me that I was not alone and that she believed in me. no longer cook by herself, she taught me all the dishes she’s developed and the techniques she’s mastered over the de-cades of her

CHARLOTTE KO ‘24

My grandmother was denied the opportunity to get an education, and because of that, she doesn’t bes a c aster a age of the occupied recounted learned to cook: standing on a little step-stool over an outdoor clay stove roaring he m ade b nd d inner f or h in order to contribute to her s when she ran out for the day there were always groans and moans from late comers. Instead of taking clients on fancy dinners, my dad would bring them back to my house and let my grandmother impress them instead with her cooking. One of my dad’s friends even gifted her a piece of calligraphy that said “ ”, which roughly transto four and the of all nine combinations to turn water into delicious chicken broth.

S tir Fried Napa C a b b a g e and Yu b a

no longer cook by herself, she taught me all the dishes she’s developed and the techniques she’s mastered over the de-cades of her

CHARLOTTE KO ‘24

鸡

he smell of white pepper and garlic coupled with the sizzle of my grandmother ’s wok was the greeting I received every afternoon when I snuck into the kitchen for a pre-dinner snack growing up. While my grandmother hated having people sneak a taste of her food before it was ready, she always made an exception for me with this dish. Maybe it was because she knew it was my favorite dish or maybe it was because I am her favorite granddaughter,

S tir Fried Napa C a b b a g e and Yu b a

My grandmother was denied the opportunity to get an education, and because of that, she doesn’t bes a c aster a nd h as b een s ince the age of the occupied recounted to me she learned to cook: standing on a little step-stool over an outdoor clay stove above a roaring he m ade b nd d inner f or h in order to contribute to her s that when she ran out for the day there were always groans and moans from late comers. Instead of taking clients on fancy dinners, my dad would bring them back to my house and let my grandmother impress them instead with her cooking. One of my dad’s friends even gifted her a piece of calligraphy that said “ ”, which roughly transto four and the of all nine combinations to turn water into delicious chicken broth.

鸡

I never realized how lucky I was to have a gourmet chef cook all of almost every night about the horrendous dining conditions I had to enut in the dining hall it was the only way to eat vegetables. I would call my grandmother sobbing, telling her how I couldn’t take another salad and how desperate her stir fried napa cabbage mom o b hen s he p p t o the school in her rental car, the last thing I expected was my elementary school lunchcontainer in me it a gift from grandmother and that I should refrigerate it and have it for dinner. That night, I reheated it in the micro the scents of pepper and he common the ime s ince a n t o a m he t estament t s for me no bounds and hat a he napa cabbage a dish, to me, no longer holds just the memories of my childhood appetite. It now also reminds me that when I felt the most alone in my life she heard me and made it known to me that I was not alone and that she believed in me.

1 head of napa cabbage

off the butt of the napa cabbage (the stem part or the base) and discard it; the cabbage

tbsptbsptsp

1 pinch of sugar 5 1 2

Preheat the wok or the large skillet on high heat and add 2 tablespoons of the neutral oil. Dip one of the long wooden chopsticks into the oil. If bubbles form around it then the oil is ready. Turn the heat down to medium-high and place the yuba in the wok to shallow fry. It’s best to do this in four batches, because the yuba pieces should not overlap in the pan and they burn quite quickly Once the

cloves of garlic

threeRinse the cabbage under cold water and make sure all the black gunk is washed away. If there are still some unclean areas, cut those parts off or discard that piece of cabbage.

Prep Time: 30 mins

Ingredients

1 5

10 tbsp of any neutral oil (I recommend peanut or canola)

off the butt of the napa cabbage (the stem part or the base) and discard it; the cabbage

Rinse each yuba sheet under warm water. It should be very brittle before the water and soften slightly under the water. Once rinsed, pat dry with paper towels.Cut the yuba sheets into strips approximately the same size as the napa cabbage. Make sure each piece is bone dry and then place on the baking tray

1 pinch of sugar 1 2

tongs to take the yuba out of the pan when it turns golden brown, usually taking around 30 seconds. Repeat this step until all yuba pieces are perfectly golden brown. same wok, add in the remaining 2 tablespoons of neutral oil and the minced garlic. chopsticks or wooden spatula. Add in the napa cabbage and be careful not to get splashed the cabbage is wilting, in a small bowl add the 5 tablespoons of warm water and the tablespoon of chicken ture to the cabbage. the up and arrange the cabbage to the entire bottom of the or Add the crispy yuba pieces on top of the cabbage. Do not stir! Make sure the yuba isn’t touching the bot tom of the wok or skillet so it won’t burn. Then take the lid and cover for 3 minutes or until very fragrant.

Makes: 4 Servings Instructions

1 head of napa cabbage

Makes: 4 Servings

chopsticks or wooden spatula. Add in the napa cabbage and be careful not to get splashed the cabbage is wilting, in a small bowl add the 5 tablespoons of warm water and the tablespoon of chicken ture to the cabbage.

Instructions

Cooking Time: 45 mins

the up and arrange the cabbage to the entire bottom of the or Add the crispy yuba pieces on top of the cabbage. Do not stir! Make sure the yuba isn’t touching the bot tom of the wok or skillet so it won’t burn. Then take the lid and cover for 3 minutes or until very fragrant.

Ingredients

10 tbsp of any neutral oil (I recommend peanut or canola) cloves of garlic

Prep Time: 30 mins

Cooking Time: 45 mins

tbsptbsptsp

It wasn’t until high school that I realized that skipping my daily bowl of soup meant more to my grandmother than missing out on the health benefits. Yes, she cooked soup for my well-being, but I re alized that it was more symbolic than that. Soup was her way of communicating love. She didn’t feel confident in her English skills to hold a full conversation; yet, she was always very adamant about the fact that I shouldn’t learn Cantonese, saying that, ultimate ly, that it wasn’t useful in Amer ica. I came to understand that she had been trying to stay connected to me and have me stay rooted in my Chinese heritage--in a small,

Growing up, my grandmother would serve me soup for breakfast every morning. The type of soup always differed: soups to help with illness, period cramps, clear skin, remedy stomach aches, lengthen hair. There was no ail ment that her soup couldn’t cure. She also made soup based on the season, such as melon soup or lotus root soup in the fall. My grand mother took regular trips to the herbal shops of San Francisco’s Chinatown to purchase ingredients such as fish maw and ginseng. Even after that, it took hours upon hours to simmer the various ingredients that would eventually become a hearty broth. She called every type of soup by a simple English nick name because she didn’t know the translation of the Cantonese words. My favorite was “crunchy” soup, which was made with chicken and a firm, white mushroom-like fungus known as snow fungus. It was aptly named after the faint ly crunchy sound made from bit ing into a piece of the fungus.

The pandemic has truly been a blessing in disguise as I attempt to make up for the time that I failed to appreciate her displays of love as well as my own culture. I pick up fresh soup from my grand ma weekly, now exchanging it for homemade dishes that I make as an offering of love to her. As I write this, I’m sipping on a bowl of soup and reminiscing about how my grandmother never gave up hope of building a relationship or instilling traditional Chinese culture. All those years, despite my lack of reciprocity of her love, there was not one week that went by where she didn’t ask what kind of soup I wanted the next day…

Soup as a Love Language

of the sugary breakfast cereals and iced toaster strudels that my class mates got to eat in the morning. I began to decline the morning soup; “I’ll drink it after school,” I’d say, as an excuse to eat my American breakfast. Yet, when I got home, I would either forget to drink my soup or I would purposely avoid it so I could eat snacks that would inevitably result in stomach pain and pimples—ironically, exactly what drinking my grandmother’s soup was meant to prevent.

Madison Wong ‘23

yet invaluable way--through food.

I gladly gulped down every drop especially so if there was rice mixed in. As I entered middle school, however, I grew envious

However, by denying her warm, homemade soup in favor of pack aged and processed American snack foods, I was blocking one of the very few modes of communication that I could maintain with my grand mother. Regardless of how many times I vocally said “I love you,” it would never mean as much to her as me enjoying the soup that she took so much time and effort to prepare.

Fast forward a year to 2021: did my life really im prove because I ate a few sardines and black beans? Probably not. But I did, fortunately, continue to stay healthy (along with my friends and family), survive my first year of college (even if half of it was over Zoom), and find happiness in spending more time with my fam ily while keeping up with my college friends over group Facetimes. Although my initial motive to eat osechi ryori stemmed from a per sonal superstition (that my health and grades would deteriorate if I didn’t eat these foods), I’ve come to appreciate the foods’ cultural and ritual significance as well. Now, when I join my extended fami ly members in this Japanese New Year tradition, I acknowledge the holiday’s impact on me beyond the copious amounts of delicious food. Sharing these moments of eating and learning about these traditional dishes with my fam ily bonds me closer to them and my background. While we were not able to do our usual New Year celebration this year, hopefully, I will be able to eat lots of osechi ryori in 2022 to prepare myself for a year full of happi ness, good fortune, good health, and new experiences.

Then it was January 1, 2020; a new decade and a very new chapter in my life. I just finished my first semester of college, I was about to enter my last year as a teen, and of course–– little did I know–– I was about to spend the next two years living in a pandemic. So when the good health beans, longevity shrimp, and scholarship

seaweed were passed to me, I readily added a little of each to my plate and prepared myself for the year ahead. To my surprise, they were actually quite tolerable and tasted pretty good. The seaweed scrolls were satisfyingly chewy and salty, and the beans had a subtle sweet flavor. In fact, I ate a couple more for good measure.

“One of the many reasons I love this holiday is that it revolves almost entirelyfood...”around

Osechi Ryori: Traditional Japanese New Year Foods

Chelsea Wong ‘23

Every year on New Year’s Day, my family goes to my 100-year-old great aunt’s house to celebrate Japa nese New Year with my mom’s side of the family. One of the many reasons I love this holiday is that it revolves almost entirely around food––endless amounts of delicious, homemade, comforting Japanese food. Our day-long eating marathon commences when we sit around the long table covered with platters piled high with gyoza, onigiri, sashimi, and grilled meats–– there is barely enough room for our own plates of food. Midway through our meal, my grandmother and aunts pass around osechi ryori (o-setchee ree-or-lee), a collection of tra ditional Japanese New Year foods that each denote a special meaning and wish for the upcoming year.

Up until a few years ago, I would politely decline my grand mother’s offering of Kuromame (sweet black beans) and Tazakuri (sardines), passing the dishes to the next person. Why would I want to fill my stomach with these small, cold foods when I could eat more sushi? “Because this will bring you good luck in the new year,” my grandmother would respond. “And this will grant you good for tune,” my great aunt would inform me. As a generally healthy teenager, I would look at the pile of beans and the glassy eyes of the sardines and say, “I don’t think I need them, I can have a good year without them.”

New Year, More Seaweed

Vicki Tran ‘23

Cooking Lessons

My parents were Vietnam War refugees and growing up they didn’t have the food security that our family so happily enjoys today. From their past, they learned how

The past is always nice to think back on. To relive the times in the kitchen when I taste-tested my mom’s specialty dishes before a dinner party. To reminisce about the enticing smells of seafoods from a soup that has been cooking for hours. To retrace opening up the oven door and having the caramel and vanilla scent of a freshly made flan enveloping you. But, we should also remember how our past has led to where we are now, to who we are now. Our identities are composed of the things we love about the cultures we come from and the people we love. Vietnamese culture and my parents have been the key ingredients in my identity and life!

on our kitchen floor and begin pulling off uniform pieces from the warm, already-kneaded, white ball of dough (this applies to my mom more than me). The first few times I helped during the dumpling-making process, I was only capable of pulling off pieces of the dough and rounding them into balls. As I rolled the dough around in my starched-up hands, I watched my mom and her technique. She was like a machine, always flattening them into the perfect thickness and spooning in the same amount of filling each time. But it wasn’t the actual dumpling-making that I learned a lot from; it was how my mom used up any of the leftovers. If there was extra filling, we could simply turn it into a side dish to eat with rice. If there was extra dough, my mom would save it for hand-cut noodles for bánh canh, a thick crab-based noodle soup. It was this resourcefulness paired with contempt towards the act of wasting food that impacted me.

and my dad had to adjust to a whole new environment and culture. Boston was an entirely different city from Hue (my mom’s hometown) and Phú Xuân (my dad’s hometown). They learned a new language on top of working many jobs and attending school. It was undeniably difficult, yet they were still able to thrive and succeed. Their success was a result of their determination, adaptability, and desire to build their own community within a new country.

Many of my memories are from the kitchen (my own or someone else’s), surrounded by family. To me, the kitchen is like school. Yes, I know that does not sound exciting, but I don’t mean what school actually is; rather, what school was supposed to be. The kitchen was where pure learning happened, in a variety of ways. It was where mistakes were made, but instead of thinking about how you were going to make up for them, you focused on learning from them. I learned how to adapt and examine a problem from more than one angle. A meal was more than the food on the table; it was the physical product of our love for those we were cooking with and for. From watching and helping my family cook, I saw how food brought everyone together and encouraged our growth as people. Now, you may be wondering how food even does that; is it really that deep? For many, food is just substance. But for my family, it has led us to become resourceful and appreciative people. One of the staples in my childhood (and now) is bánh bột lọc. Bánh bột lọc is Vietnamese tapioca starch dumplings, filled with savory shrimp and pork belly.

My mom and I would make ourselves comfortable

to be creative with food and appreciate its value. They taught me to be grateful for what you have. Why wait until something is lost to realize its significance in your life? My parents emphasized that question a lot in the way they lived and raised my younger brother and me. Another dish that taught me a lesson I continue to carry with me in life is com chien, Vietnamese fried rice. For me, my mom’s com chien is of course delicious, but its simple yet profound taste is what shines. In my opinion, a lot of Vietnamese dishes aren’t made with complicated ingredients or methods; instead, we focus on making available ingredients taste better together. Whenever we had a lot of extra rice (a good problem to have), a rice dish would show up on our dining room table. The key ingredients my mom usually added were green peas, corn, carrots, eggs, and lạp xưởng, and Chinese sausage; however, the “recipe” (my mom never uses recipes) was extremely flexible. If we had run out of an ingredient or if we had too much of something, my mom would adapt and add different meats or vegetables. This flexibility wasn’t only exemplified in her cooking, but also in her life. As immigrants, both my mom

“It was this resourcefulness paired with contempt towards the act of wasting food that impacted me.”

“As children, as immigrants, and as parents, we are all connected through food.”

The Open Door To My Heritage

My other grandmother, whom I call Nani, moved to America from Ahmedabad with my grandfather in

Ariana Mehrotra ‘23

My dad’s mother, whom I call Dadi, is the only member of my family that still lives in India. When I interviewed her, she talked a lot about how food was always linked with tradition when she was a kid. She

My dad and his brother learned to cook while watch ing the khansama (the main cook) work in the hotel that their family owned. My dad had a deep love of food from an early age; I always laugh at the story of my dad hosting a multi-course dinner party for my grand mother’s friends at age eight. He would also try and teach his grandmother different recipes when he was only three. He would later move to America to go to school at Tufts when he was 17. As a college student that had previously been at boarding school, my dad suddenly had unlimited food and brand new friends to form connections with. My uncle, whom I call Taoji,

Americanized partly because of events like Thanks giving and Christmas, but mostly the available spices and ingredients. In fact, my grandparents were vege tarian when they moved, but later had to start eating meat because it was so difficult. Changing her cook ing and eating styles was also a symbol of adapting to contemporary life and connecting to her three children.

Growing up in an Indian family in Kentucky, it was often easy to feel detached from my culture. For me, the easiest way to access my heritage has always been through food -- and I’m not alone. While inter viewing five of the most important people in my life (my two grandmothers, my mom and dad, and my un cle), I realized that food has been an access point for al most every member of my family to connect with their family, cultures, and selves. As children, as immigrants, and as parents, we are all connected through food.

the 1960s. They were a part of the first big wave of Indian immigrants in Boston. There were no Indian grocery stores or restaurants or really anything that evoked her culture. During our interview, I learned that Nani had never really cooked before moving to America, which was a total shock given the number of tupperwares of homemade Indian food I have in my dorm fridge straight from her house in New Hamp shire. Learning to cook was obviously a necessity for her, but it also allowed her to bridge two very differ ent cultures and create a life in a foreign country. Nani learned how to cook alongside her new friends, wom en just like her in their 20s who had recently finished college and gotten married. Her cooking style became

remarked that she would always look forward to fes tivals for different foods: gujiyas were only eaten at Holi; haluwa and poori were only eaten at Navratri; mithai were only eaten at Janmashtami. My dad and his brother also both attested to the pure joy of wait ing all year for specific foods. These traditions made eating and cooking a celebration and connected dif ferent aspects of being Indian. But as our family has evolved, so has my Dadi. Dadi’s adaptation to different cuisines, ingredients, and traditions has allowed her to stay in touch with her sons and her grandkids. Even in India, homes have started adopting the cuisines of different Indian regions, such as Kashmiri food, and cuisine from around the world, such as Chinese chili chicken, one of my Dadi’s favorites. This expansion of the traditional palette has allowed for us all to try new things and continue to reconnect to each other.

During the interview, my uncle shared a story about him, my dad, their cousin, and another college friend being literally kicked out of an unlimited buffet, and how ridiculous that prospect was. My dad laughed at the memory of out-eating the football players in the dining hall, and having to eat the exact same five-dol lar meal from Nick’s Pizza for an entire week before his meal plan kicked in. Taoji even had a story about a time when he and his friend traded some fresh aba lone for free sushi rolls (honestly, I have no clue how they pulled that off). These stories and memories are ones that they will hold onto for the rest of their lives. As my uncle put it, these connections made through food “made it feel like you had a home, because home was always about food, togetherness, and warmth.”

Making food an event has been a theme within both of these brothers’ lives, whether that was making a pretend cooking show when my sister and I were kids, driving five hours for sushi to celebrate getting into college, or hosting dinner parties after the kids had gone to bed. As I have grown up, my parents have made a point of making our home the centerpoint of bringing people together.

For my mom, food is not the way she most deep ly connects with her heritage. Rather, she feels par ticularly connected with her past through the arts and

dance, which were very present in her life growing up. Food instead represents her new family with my dad, myself, and my sister. My parents have adapted many Indian recipes together based on techniques they have learned and meals they have eaten. One of my dad’s most famous recipes is for a truly phenomenal pork carnitas which melds together elements of Indian and Mexican cooking. My mom’s relationship with food is symbolic of the way our family has become American ized and how we have melded two cultures together.

As a second-generation Indian-American, it is now my responsibility to pass on my Indian culture to my future family members. This task is often daunting, but when I feel isolated by my monolingualism or my lack of knowledge of Indian history, I can rely on food. For me, food is the open door to my culture. Sometimes I wonder if we had lived somewhere with a more popu lous Indian community if I would feel more connected to my heritage, but I think in some ways it could cause me to want to distance myself from it. My fear of being disconnected actually offers an amazing op portunity for me to build my own relationship with my culture. My parents have given me the perfect starting point for me to want to learn about my heritage at my own pace. My love for my Indian heritage manifests whenever I cook or have a particularly good meal.

would visit his younger brother at Tufts, and as a re sult had many shared experiences with college friends.

A True Ethnic Blend

My parents immigrated to the United States from In dia when they were in their 20s. Having grown up in India, much of their life in the states has been influenced by their Indian culture, including the way they chose to parent my siblings and me. From eating Indian food almost every night, to listening to Indian music in the car, to my parents talking to us in Hindi even when we responded in English, our home life has always had an Indian touch. Because of our upbringing, my siblings and I love every aspect of our Indian culture, but attending predominantly white private schools created a stark contrast between our school and home lives. We knew these differences would always exist, but my parents never wanted us to feel like outcasts in American culture and made endless efforts to integrate American traditions into our Indian household. From celebrating quintessential American holidays such as Thanksgiving to learning how to make classic Ameri can dishes such as baked potatoes, our parents ensured that our two cultures could mesh seamlessly. As I think about all of the American traditions that my family puts an Indian twist to and vice versa, there is one dish

that comes to mind as a perfect example: our famous cauliflower turkey. Since no one in my fami ly eats turkey, Thanksgiving always used to feel like an ordinary dinner just with slightly more food than normal. My mom, however, was determined to change that and make sure that our Thanksgiving traditions were somewhat connected to the American tradition of having a large turkey as the table’s centerpiece. My mom and I brainstormed various ideas and settled on making a vegetarian dish that truly resembled a turkey—a live turkey. At the grocery store, we picked cauliflower for the body, blueberries for the eyes, red leaf lettuce for the feathers, and celery for the feet. We decided to make a stuffing for the turkey, and that’s where our Indian twist comes in. We made a mixture with paneer, an Indian version of cottage cheese, and various Indi an spices. After filling the cauliflower with the paneer stuffing, we baked it and then began to decorate. Building the cauliflower turkey has become an annu al tradition for our family and is a clear example of my family’s blend of American and Indian culture. While my peers might still be hesitant to try Indian food, my parents’ willingness to adapt has taught me to be out wardly proud of who I am and where I come from. Being Indian or being American doesn’t have to be mutually exclusive. When cultures come together, we are able to experience the best of all worlds (especially the best of all culinary worlds!), and I believe that is truly special.

My siblings and I have shared countless stories of go ing to school and being made fun of for what we were eating at the lunch table. From “green goop” to “throw up,” our classmates and friends have looked at the food we love with disgust, making us feel self-conscious about ex pressing our culture outside of the comfort of our home.

Aditi Mehndiratta ‘24

1. Heat up sunflower oil in a pan until it covers the surface (put a small bread piece in the oil. If it’s making small bubbles on the oil it means that the oil is at the right tem perature).

Ekmek Tatlısı (Bread Dessert) Recipe

Small pinch of salt

4. Put the bread into the room temperature syrup (otherwise, the bread will not stay crunchy). Wait 30 to 60 seconds for it to expand.

Sunflower oil or any cook ing oil

Toppings: Kaymak (Turkish Clotted Cream) or whipped cream

America wastes about 40% of its food. Food waste refers to the portion of food that is edible yet is thrown away due to factors such as color or texture. This is a portion that is not negligible, especially considering the amount of people who lack food security as well as the contribution this makes to climate change.Itisimpossible to ignore the effect of the industrial food culture on food waste in the US. Of course, most of the food waste is made by manufacturers and restaurants, and I have nothing to say about this. However, especially as an international student from Turkey, when I first arrived at Tufts, I was taken aback by the food wasted in day-to-day life. This is, I am sure, also a byproduct of the abundance of meal swipes first year students have, which is the limited group I have been able to observe due to COVID-19. This is very different from my experience in Turkey, where the portions of food are smaller and, consequently, produce less waste.

1. On low heat in a medium-sized steel pot, caramelize the sugar. When it turns into a brownish caramel color, add in the water. Wait for it to come to a boil. When it starts boiling, take it off the stove.

2. Coat the bread in egg.

To Throw Away Food?

For the Syrup:

InstructionsIngredients

For the Bread:

5. Take the bread out and serve it with a very generous amount of your toppings!

A glass of water

Crushed walnuts

3. Fry bread on both sides.

2. Wait for it to cool down to room temperature. You can also save this for later.

Asli Kocak ‘24

Prep time: 10 mins

Cook time: 20 mins

Makes: 2 servings

30 mL milk

However, in Turkey, I think bread has a special position in the food chain. It is a sin to throw away bread or step on it if it has fallen on the ground. As a result of this, many solutions have emerged: creating bread dish es, saving leftover bread for seagulls or stray animals to eat, and baking “Ekmek Tatlısı,” a dessert made from stale bread. My dad makes this dessert from time to time when there is stale sourdough bread available. He excit edly tells me of the times when white bread did not exist. There is a taste he is looking for, searching for the perfect yeast. When I ask him why sourdough, he tells me that this recipe would not be the same with any other bread because of the texture. Sourdough bread is more elastic and has bigger bubbles which allow the egg mixture to combine with every part of the bread. And when the bread went stale, he would make this desert. Here, I thought I would share this beautiful recipe, although I’m afraid not all ingredients will be available. Due to its nature, it is a very easy dessert, somewhat similar to French Toast.

Stale sourdough bread, 3-4 1/2slicescup sugar

mouth. Patlican oturtma, literally translated as “eggplant sitting,” is eggplant “sat” in a dish and covered with a tomato and beef sauce and cooked in the oven. My grandfather was sometimes so concerned about remembering to prepare the dish that he would make it the week before I arrived and have to eat it for two weeks in a row. Over the years, my love for eggplant has grown so much that I am now the “eggplant girl” not only in my own family, but also with my friends’ families. I’ve even written about eggplant for class assignments. My love for eggplant not only grew because of its taste but also through the associations I have made with it. It’s now not only my favorite dish, but my link to home. While I cook a lot of Turkish food at Tufts since moving off-campus, nothing makes me more nostalgic than fresh patlican oturtma out of the oven. Turkish grandmas usually don’t give precise measurements, so as I’ve made it, I’ve added to the recipe (included below). I especially recommend try ing if you previously have not enjoyed eggplant!

Growing up in Turkey, Turkish food has always been a large part of my cultural identity. When I left Turkey for High School, I began to miss the flavors I was used to, almost as much as I missed my friends and family. Since then, eating a meal that reminds me of home is my ultimate comfort, especial ly when I have a bad day. One large part of Turkish culture is always having a big meal when you come back home. As I left for highschool early, my family thought it was important for me to have the foods I missed, and even made sure to call me a week before I came home to ask me what I wanted to eat. My answer was the same every time: patlican oturtma. To most people, having such a love for eggplant may seem odd. This may be because in countries that don’t incorpo rate as much eggplant in their cuisines, their versions of eggplant always fall short. Many times, they’re impossible to chew, not cooked through enough, and have a bitter flavor when they should have a buttery, umami flavor with a soft texture that melts in your

Patlican Oturtma

Isabella Gurel ‘22

6. Bake at 400°F until evenly browned for approximately 40 minutes. It is okay if some pieces of beef have slightly charred, this only adds to flavor!

2. Peel eggplant in stripes and slice about ½ inch thick. Fill a large bowl with water and salt, 2-3 tablespoons. Add eggplant slices and soak for 15 minutes, until the water has darkened. Drain water out and pat eggplant dry with paper towels.

2 cloves of garlic, minced

Patlican Oturtma Makes: 6 servings

1. Preheat the oven to 400°F.

4. Meanwhile, heat a large pan over medium heat with olive oil. Add ground beef to the pan and break up into pieces. Saute until cooked through and dark brown. Add the diced onion, pepper (to taste), and garlic. Saute until slightly softened. Then, add the to mato paste and cook until the raw tomato taste has left and the color has slightly dark ened. Add the diced tomatoes and bring to a simmer, lower heat and simmer. Season with salt and pepper and add herbs and spices.

Cook Time: 1.5-2 hours

5. Arrange the browned eggplant on the bottom of a 9x13 baking dish. If you end up with too many slices of eggplant, layer them or try to squeeze them into an even layer. Cover the eggplant with the ground beef mixture in an even layer. Garnish with peppers and tomato slices, if you please.

The Gurel Family Recipe

2-3 medium sized eggplants

Enjoy alone or with rice or pasta.

1 medium red pepper, diced

1 14.5 oz can of diced tomatoes

1 tbsp olive oil

1parsleytspof dried oregano Chili flakes (to taste)

Prep Time: 15 mins

1 large yellow onion, diced

InstructionsIngredients

1 tbsp tomato paste

3. Place baking paper on baking sheets and arrange the eggplant on the sheet in an even layer. Brush each slice with vegetable oil on both sides. Bake in the oven until softened and browned (~20-40 minutes depending on your oven). Flip them halfway through.

1PepperSaltbunch

Vegetable oil (to coat)

Tomato and pepper slices for garnish (op tional)

1 lb ground beef

of fresh parsley or 2 tbsp of dried

My family fled the Ottoman Empire due to the genocide. Before 1915, my great-great grandfather’s parents were aware that the culture was becoming increasingly anti-Armenian and, for fear of his safety, sent my great-great grandfather to the United States alone. He was fourteen years old. Upon reaching the shores of America, he was faced with a dilemma: one of his cousins had been turned away due to a hered itary health condition. Concerned that his last name would jeopardize his chances of being accepted, my great-great grandfather changed his last name from Alexanderian to Techmejian. Later, my great-grandfa ther switched his last name back to Alexanderian but Ingredients

½ cup olive oil

Instructions

1 tsp salt ½ tsp pepper

Beginning in 1915, the Ottoman Empire committed genocide against the Armenian people, taking more than one million innocent lives. Often referred to as the first genocide of the twentieth century, the atroci ties and methods of the Armenian Genocide are said to have inspired Hitler. However, this genocide is rarely discussed or even taught in schools, and the United States has been reluctant to formally recognize the events as genocide for fear of angering Turkey.

Eech

Hailey Swett ‘24

Through these stories, I have come to realize where my grandfather is coming from when he says, “We must stick together.” For a people who experienced genocide and the intentional attempted erasure of their culture, it becomes increasingly important to stand in solidarity and preserve what remains. But how can I -- as someone who has lived in the United States my whole life -- remain connected to these essential parts of my Beyondheritage?theshort comments and lengthy stories my grandfather tells about Armenia, the primary way my family remains connected to our heritage is through food. Though my grandmother is not Armenian her self, she is a skilled chef and took it upon herself to learn to cook traditional Armenian recipes. Now, when my sisters, cousins, and I arrive at her house, we are often met with bowls piled high with pilaf, the smells of eech cooking on the stove, and sweet pak lava lining trays for dessert. Then my relatives and I gather around the table to enjoy the food as a family and settle in for the inevitable stories. In this way, food plays two essential roles in understanding our history: it provides us with the tastes of Armenia and gives my grandfather the opportunity to relay all that he knows. While stories and foods are wonderful and essen tial, someday I hope to travel to Armenia and eat the real paklava with my grandfather by my side. I’m sure he’ll remind everyone that, “We are Armenian.”

My grandfather tells practically everyone he meets that he’s Armenian. “I have to tell everyone I’m Arme nian so us Armenians can stick together,” he explains. I used to be somewhat confused by this -- and slightly annoyed by the constant mentions of such a far off country -- but as I’ve grown older, I’ve come to under stand what he means.

1 cup water

⅛ tsp cayenne pepper

Hailey Swett ‘24

Large onion, diced Green bell pepper, diced 4 cloves garlic, minced 15 oz can tomatoes

½ cup parsley chopped fine

Heat oil. Cook onions and green peppers until onions are soft, about 8 minutes. Add garlic. Cook for 1 minute. Add chopped tomatoes, salt, pepper, and cayenne and cook covered for 10 minutes. Add water and bulgur. Cover and cook on low heat for 10 minutes. Remove from heat, (if bulgur is sticky, add more water) and stir. Cover the pan and let it sit for another ten minutes. Add lemon juice, green onions, and parsley, and stir. Can be served hot or cold.

dropped the -ian because he was unable to find a job with an Armenian last name.

2 cups bulgar wheat Juice of one lemon

4 to 5 greens onions

Armenian Ancestry Anecdotes

2 tbsp olive oil

1 large shallot or ¼ cup dried shallots

Chloe Nia ‘24

Instructions:

Mast O Musir

½ tbsp salt

2 medium tomatoes

This recipe feels like a classic to me. The Persian cu cumbers in combination with lemon and mint bring so much joy and flavor to my world. I remember chopping cucumbers as a kid to add to the massive-sized Shirazi salad that my mom was making. As one of the only Persian salads, this recipe is super simple. Bring to gether a few classic ingredients in a bowl and you have the perfect appetizer or snack to keep in the fridge for everyday use!

1-2 large limes

1. Peel and finely chop the shallot. If using dried shallots, boil water and pour it over them.

3. Cover and let sit in the fridge for at least 3 hours, preferably overnight.

Instructions:

¼ onion

3 tbsp herbs (combination of parsley, cilantro, and dill)

Prep time: 10 minutes

Drain and pat dry.

3. Place the chopped ingredients into a bowl with the herbs, lime juice, and olive oil. Toss to combine.

Ingredients:

2 cups greek yogurt

1 tbsp mint

Prep time: 5-10 minutes

4 Persian cucumbers

Chloe Nia ‘24

Ingredients:

Salt and pepper to taste

Makes: 1 serving

Cook time: 3 hours

Mast o musir is one of my favorite Persian side dishes—it’s reminiscent of many memories from my childhood. As something that was always on the table, this yogurt and shallot dip can literally go with any dish. From kabob to tahdig (crispy rice), mast o musir brings a certain tanginess and intense flavor that balances everything I put in my mouth. One of my favorite ways to eat it is with salt and vinegar chips, as a perfect everyday yogurt dip. Plus, it’s one of the easiest things to make, even if you’re in a dorm. I hope this recipe brings to you what it did to every family meal I had growing up!

2. In a small bowl, mix all of the ingredients together until combined.

Makes: 1 serving

Salad e Shirazi

1. Dice up the cucumbers, tomatoes, and onion into small pieces. Finely chop the herbs and mint.

2. Juice the limes.

4. Add salt and pepper to taste. For best flavor, place the bowl in the fridge for an hour and then serve.

Instructions

11. Enjoy!

1 tsp water

1Glaze:tbsp maple syrup

Fluffy Vegan Challah

One of the hardest parts about going vegan for me is missing out on all my old favorites. I skip out on buttery cookies from the bakery on my block, beautifully iced cake at birthday parties, and rich mac n’ cheese at my favorite diners. However, some of the trickiest places to be vegan are at synagogue and family holiday parties. From kugel to egg-washed challah to gefilte fish, I find myself merely snacking on celery and hummus and sip ping grape juice, and so it became a mission of mine to find the perfect vegan challah recipe. I made too-dense challahs, weird-tasting challahs, challahs that felt more like sliced bread than brioche. After lots of trial and error, I perfected this recipe: challah that’s moist, that tears apart smoothly, that tastes delicious, and that—most importantly—no one would be able to tell is vegan! Enjoy!

Prep Time: 4 hours

2 ½ teaspoons instant yeast

6. Follow the braid pattern of your choice. This recipe makes 2 small/medium 3-strand challahs, 1 big 3-strand challah, and 1 me dium 4-strand round challah.

5. Once risen, punch dough down. Then, braid the challah.

over the challah either with an egg brush or your fingers. Take care to make sure that as little glaze as possible collects on the bottom of the loaf to prevent the bottom from burning.

1. In a large bowl, mix flour, yeast, and sugar.

Makes 1 large challah

10. Bake for 30-35 minutes, remov ing once to add another coat of maple syrup mixture.

Cook Time: 35 min

Dough: 4 cups all-purpose flour or bread flour

⅓ cup sugar

⅓ cup canola or olive oil

2. Slowly add oil and water, mix ing to form a dough.

8. When the challah is almost done rising, preheat the oven to 350F.

• For best results, allow the dough to first rise for up to 14 hours in the fridge -- prepare dough the night before baking.

Violet Kopp ‘24

4. Place dough in a lightly oiled bowl, cover, and let rise for 2 hours or until the dough has at least doubled in size. Ris ing time may vary due to the temperature in your kitchen, so keep an eye on the dough so it doesn’t overproof.

7. Place on a greased baking sheet and let rise for 1 to 1 ½ hours (again the rising time may vary due to temperature and climate).

9. Mix the maple syrup and water. Once risen, brush the mixture

Ingredients

smooth, elastic, and should slowly spring back when poked.

1 cup lukewarm water

Notes

3. Once mixed in the bowl, knead the dough for about 7-10 min utes. The dough should be

• If using active dry yeast, com bine 2 ½ teaspoons of active dry yeast with 1 teaspoon sugar and ¼ cup warm water (about 105110F). Let sit for about 10 min utes until bubbly, then combine with dry ingredients. Proceed to add in 3 ¾ cups of water so that total water is 4 cups.

3 ½ cups all-purpose flour

6. Cut into 1” slices.

Maddie Katz ‘24

chocolate chips, dried cranber ries, or any other mix-ins you would want

Ingredientshours

Makes 5 loaves

1. Combine eggs, oil, and sugar.

7. Place the slices back into the oven without heat for 5 more minutes until dry and crisp.

3 eggs

2 tsp vanilla

5. Place the loaves into a 350375 degree oven (depending on how crispy you want them) for 20-30 minutes until a toothpick comes out clean and the loaves are lightly browned.

Now with this super simple recipe, you can enjoy it with your family, too!

4. Shape into five “loaves” on greased cookie sheets, using a fork and knife to spread.

Try with some hot coffee, which is my favorite way to enjoy them!

Time: 2

1 cup oil

1 cup sugar

Great Grandma Claire’s Mandel Bread

3. Let the mixture stand for at least one hour to make the dough easier to handle.

Apologies to my roommate, for the freezer in our dorm room is filled to the brim with my grandmother’s chocolate chip Mandel bread, still wrapped in the tinfoil in which she gave it to me before I left for school. Like a typical Jewish grandmother, she doubled the recipe, and while I have been eating it as quickly as I can, she has already assured me that more will be on the way soon.

2. Mix in remaining ingredients using a spoon or a whisk.

Instructions

2 tsp baking powder

½ tsp salt

Mandel bread (or mandelbrot in the traditional Yiddish) are Ash kenazi Jewish cookies similar to a biscotti. While usually crunchy, my grandmother skips the second bake and leaves them softer, like a cookie. Mandel bread, especially my grandmother’s, is a cookie close to my heart. The recipe she uses, all tattered and stained, is still in the handwriting of my great-grandmother. The slanted cursive has been photocopied to fit into my recipe book, but I know that when I get my next delivery of Mandel bread, it will be made from looking at the exact copy that my great-grandmother had written down. As a family, we don’t make many traditional Jewish recipes anymore, so knowing that this is a cookie that my great-grandmother made, and most likely her mother before her, is special and connects me to my family. This cookie is a piece of my eastern-European Jewish heritage, a gift from my great-grandmother, and a labor of love from my grandmother.

I can never imagine experiencing a Thanksgiving dinner without my filling appetizer of matzo balls in pea soup. When my friends and I celebrated Friendsgiving in 2019, I chose to bring my family’s famous matzo balls in pea soup. And, just like Thanksgiving day with my family when I was a little girl, I inevitably burned my fingers while serving the dish. Although they seemed confused at first, my friends soon understood why I speak so highly of Ruth’s cooking. Just like my family, my friends finished every last drop of soup, and all called my great-grandmother at the end of the meal to thank her.

This dish represents my family and culture as a whole because it blends two parts of my identity into a savory comfort food that I look forward to devouring every year. It is both wholeheartedly American, with its ar tery-clogging abilities, and conventionally Jewish with its traditional matzo balls. The combination of the two began when my great-great-grandparents moved to the United States and attempted to assimilate into “Ameri can culture” by celebrating Thanksgiving. This is a com mon trope of immigrant families and for good reason, as it protects the sanctity of their cultural identities while

including the non-religious ones. The recipe has been passed down through multiple generations and for as long as she can remember her family had made the dish. The majority of the time it is as plain and traditional as can be, of course in the best and most delicious way possible. In Ruth’s words, “simple is always better.”. How ever, for Thanksgiving, a holiday known for excess, she truly goes all in by putting her matzo balls in pea soup. A strange combination to some, but for my family and me, it is a staple of our Thanksgiving day celebrations.

A Jewish Twist On Thanksgiving

them. But, it also evokes memories of when I was little and my grandmother would call my cousin and me her little helpers. We would stand on step stools and watch the pot boil, then serve the soup to the rest of the family, burning our small little fingers on the bowls while carrying them out to our parents and siblings. Making food is truly a family affair; recipes are passed down from one generation to the next, and the memories created while cooking or having large dinners last a lifetime.

SOPHIE DORST ‘24

To some, chrusciki may appear as nothing more than a tongue-twisting des sert occasionally encoun tered at an international market or festival. After all, Polish gastronomy has rarely permeated the selective palette of the American populace. To me, however, these sugary samples of heaven act as the solitary nexus between myself and my Polish heritage. Throughout my childhood, I felt largely disconnected from my Polish origins. I have never visited the country, I don’t speak a lick of its language (aside from the occasional jak się masz), and have never met any relatives who actual ly lived there. These cultural barriers often left me at

“Your bond with your backgroundculturaliswhat you make of it.”

he smell of sizzling oil floats throughout the house. A thin layer of flour completely coats the floor as I wait eagerly for my mother to call me over to help. It’s chrusciki day, an experience of Polish pastry per fection that would come to define my connection to my heritage. After my mother had deftly crafted the hand made dough into elegant bows, it was time for my contribution to the project. I slowly lower each pastry into the oil, and gaze in awe as the raw dough transforms. Minutes later, my younger sis ter and I haphazardly douse the fried creations with pow dered sugar. The chrusci ki had arrived, and to the chagrin of my stomach, they were all I would eat for the next few days.

a difficult identity crossroads growing up: “How can I identify as Polish when I am so far removed from the culture?”. It turns out, I had a static perception of what cultural attunement looked like. I thought that I had to grow up, act, and think a certain way to opti mize my Polish roots. However, as I grew older (and made more chrusciki), I came to realize that your heritage is what you make of it. I realized that I could forge my own cultural identity, in my case, through food! By making chrusciki with my mother, who maintains a gener ations-old family recipe, my connection to my heritage has been rebirthed. Know ing that I am kneading the same dough in the same way that my ancestors did fosters an unbreakable bond that is entirely proprietary to food. A bond that does not require linguistic ability or dual citizenship with Poland, but a passion for its rich culture, as well as a love of chrusciki, of course. Your bond with your cultur al background is what you make of it. There are no rules or require ments to be in touch with your heritage. For me, food is the unifier between myself and my roots. It might sound a bit ambitious, but I wholeheart edly believe that food yields the potential to wed people with their heritage, one chrusciki at a time.

Powerful Polish Pastries: Discovering iDentity through fooD

PEYTON KRINSKY ‘24 19

The recipe I follow at home was developed over fifty years ago by my dad’s mother, my grandma. In our opinion, the best way to enjoy pierogi is by sau téing them with onions and butter. We all know that the pairing of sweetly caramelized onion and warm, salty butter can do no wrong. There is nothing like the intensely creamy interior enveloped by a chewy crispy dough. It’s the perfect balance of flavor and texture in every bite. Not to mention how decadent the classic pairing of freshly cooked pierogi with applesauce and sour cream is.

With Polish ancestry on both sides of my fam ily, pierogi have always been a staple in our household. These soft pockets of unleavened dough are stuffed with savory and sweet fillings, cooked in boiling water, and then pan fried to crispiness. The term pierogi is used interchangeably with vareniki to describe this vegetarian dumpling. While vareniki is more commonly used in Russia, pierogi is the term used in Poland, Ukraine, and Slovenia.

The next three hours consist of my mom and me rolling out the dough, cutting out circles, and scoop ing filling. Sometimes my younger brother will pop in to help me fold and crimp the edges of the dough pockets, but he mostly sticks around just long enough to taste a few freshly cooked pierogi. And don’t let me forget about my dad and older brother—this family

effort is not complete without them devouring plate fuls of the final product. I struggle to freeze enough pierogi by the time I’m done cooking because only a few dozen will be left!

When we do make it at home, it usually starts with my mom going to the market in search of the authentic farmer’s cheese filling, while I begin making and chill ing the sour cream dough at home. For the filling, we use three whole pounds of farmer’s cheese, eggs, and raw white onion. While similar in consistency to ri cotta, farmer’s cheese is drier and firmer. It’s a type of pressed cottage cheese that is slightly acidic and has a low moisture content, which bodes well when stuffing soft, fragile dough. The cheese is typically made from cows; however, there are sheep and goat varieties. Depending on what flavor profile you are looking for in your pierogi, you can go with the creamy, standard cow milk cheese or the nuttier, umami flavored sheep and goat milks. The filling is easily customizable, so feel free to tailor the type of filling and mix-ins to your liking and make the pierogi your own!

What it Takes to Make Authentic Pierogi

And let me tell you, this recipe can feed an army! It makes well over 100 pierogi! Luckily, the pierogi can be saved for later because they freeze quite easily when stored properly. Something really special about making such a big batch is that novice pierogi makers have plenty of opportunities to refine their scooping and dough folding technique. Even after years of mak ing pierogi, I notice myself taking ten or so pierogi to “get in the groove” of the process.

Making homemade pierogi in my household is a family effort. I typically make pierogi only once or twice a year because the task is laborious and time consuming. Often when my family is craving this comforting dish, we turn to our local Ukrainian Church where two dozen women gather to make over 180 dozen potato pierogi a week. And get this… they are fresh to order! Some of the workers are even church members. Most are just volunteers who have come by and are interested to learn.

Grace Hamilton ‘24

Prep time: 3-5 mins

Pierogi Dough:

Pierogi filling:

3 pounds of farmer’s cheese (you will need 3, 1-pound bricks or containers) **

To cook pierogi:

Marion’s Famous Pierogi Recipe

1. Melt ¼ cup butter (or 1 stick) in a large skillet and add 1 medium, finely diced onion. Sauté onions and butter until onions are soft. Add 12 pierogi (1/10 of the batch) to the skillet and fry until they are light golden brown. Serves 4. Serve with applesauce and sour cream.

Ingredients and Preparation

1 tsp garlic powder

1. Once cold, wrap 12 pierogi in plastic wrap (2 times) and place in a gallon size freezer bag. Label and date the bags. The pierogi hold up to 6 months in the freezer.

3. Add pierogi one by one to boiling water. Pierogi are done when they float to the top. Remove them with a slotted spoon to drain excess water and place on a clean terry cloth towel.

2. Wegmans

You will need: a rolling pin, a 4-inch circle-shaped, metal cookie cutter, a small bowl of warm water, and approximate ly 1 cup of flour

8 oz of sour cream

1 large onion, finely chopped

**This cheese is a specialty item. There are a couple of different types of “farmer’s cheese.” The type you will need for the pierogi filling is a curd cheese similar in consistency to ricotta but firmer and drier. Go to www. friendshipdiaries.com to see what it looks like. This cheese can be purchased a few ways:

3 eggs

Cook time: 4 hours

1 tsp parsley flakes

3. Add a little extra flour or extra water by the ¼ cup full as needed to obtain a slightly sticky, round ball dough.

2. Lightly dust rolling surface with flour. Roll some dough out (1/8 inch thick), and cut out as many circles as pos sible. Put about 1 tablespoon of filling in the middle of each cut out shape. Wet outer edges of circle with a little water. Then fold in half and pinch edges together with your fingers. Next, dip your fork in a small bowl of wa ter and help make fork imprints around the rounded edge of half circle. (HINT: Dipping the fork in a little water first will help the dough stay together).

2 eggs, lightly beaten

4-5 cups of unbleached flour

Makes: approximately 120 pierogies

1. Whole Foods Market

Instructions

1. Add lightly beaten eggs to a liquid measuring cup and fill the rest with water to make 1 full cup. Stir egg and water mixture together.

To freeze pierogi:

3. Order online at: www.bluesealkiel@basa.com

1. Fill a large sauce pot with water, add a dash of salt, boil.

1 tsp pepper

2. Mix all ingredients together in a mixer to form a round ball. Knead by hand if necessary.

1. Mix all the filling ingredients and set aside.

Paige Buller ‘24

Although Polenta is no longer a staple dish in my family, we still gather in our kitchen once a year for our “polenta party,” during which we prepare a substantial batch of it, lathered in our homemade toppings. Once the boiling polenta is thick enough, we omit dishes and pour it on tabletops, spread it out evenly, and eat it directly off the tables with just our silverware. Within this tradition are many smaller yet significant traditions. It is my Uncle Bob who always prepares the polenta with the help of his son, son-in-laws and nephews. While they are responsible for stirring the polenta pot with a stout wooden pole, my mother and aunts help prepare the sauces and meats. Once the polenta has thickened to the point where the wooden pole can stand up in the center of the pot without tipping over, my uncle and cousins take turns pouring it on tables and leveling it out with the pole. My mother and aunts then top off the hardened polenta with their sauces, meats and cheeses while cousins and I spectate and hungrily await our time to devour.

Polenta Party

Although the meal is indisputably delicious, what’s most gratifying is gathering around the table, shoulder to shoulder with my relatives and enjoying everyone’s presence. There is something about polenta, some humble yet deep-rooted quality, that draws us all in, allowing us to indulge in both food and conversation. Over this dish we laugh, reflect, celebrate and honor where our families came from and where we are now. Everyone leaves the meal fuller, not only physically, (as the condensed grains expand in our stomachs throughout the night), but also emotionally. We leave with a greater sense of gratitude and endearment. Just as the cornmeal grains converge and hold onto each other as the polenta is prepared, so do the members of my family as we prepare and savour this dish with one another.

On my mother’s side, I come from a boisterous, tightknit, Italian American family who loves food. When most people think of Italian food, they think of elaborately prepared pastas, pizzas, gelatos, and more. But generations ago, the dish most essential to our lower working class ancestors was polenta. Polenta, which is simply boiled cornmeal topped with sauces or meats, is the pinnacle of a cheap, hearty meal. Once the cornmeal boils and thickens to polenta’s consistency, it is ready to be plated. The dense, soupy grain congeals as it cools down and releases steam. Then, the nourishing polenta is topped with whatever is available. Aromatic tomato sauces, meatballs, sausages, ribs, cheeses, and herbs cover the grains to provide flavor and piquancy.

Prep Time: 10 mins Cook Time: 1 hour and 20 mins Makes: 6-10 Servings

3. Return the pot to heat and stir in all remaining 4.ingredients.Coverthe pot with the lid and let simmer for one hour.

for House and Home

5. Serve over a bed of al dente pasta and enjoy!

1. In a large pot, brown the beef, onions, and garlic over low heat, stirring occasionally.

Gia Magnoni ‘24

3 pounds ground beef

Note: The original recipe calls for just 2 pounds of ground beef with another 1 pound of ground Italian sausage, but my mother has always just used 3 pounds of ground

Spaghetti Sauce inspired by The Big House

2. Remove from heat and, using the lid as a filter, drain the fatty liquid into a disposable coffee cup over the sink (always remember to protect your pipes!).

2 30 oz cans of tomato sauce

Spaghettibeef.

12 oz can of tomato paste ½ cup water

2 cloves garlic, crushed

1 tsp Italian seasoning Salt and Pepper to taste

1 cup chopped onion, about 1 large onion

Ingredients

Instructions

Being part of an Italian-American family means keeping track of all the cousins, feasting late into the night, the occasional “ciao” greeting, and, of course, a tried-and-true spaghetti recipe. My father’s family came to America through Ellis Island and landed in the Italian immigrant town of Spring Valley, Illinois. Here, Italian culture is reminisced about and celebrated. Every restaurant in town caters to the cravings of its inhabitants, and one stands out among the rest: The Big House. For nearly a century, The Big House has been a hub of family gatherings and big meals, sporting the many (many) staple foods of Italy, including their one and only spaghetti sauce. This recipe became commonplace in the Magnoni household once my grandmother successfully recreated it in her own kitchen (with a few personal

touches), and is used on a regular basis in my own kitchen

Whentoday.wethink of classic Italian foods, we imagine pastas covered in flavor, chickens soaked in sauces, and desserts layered with accessible ingredients. All these meals have one thing in common: they are all made with love, not money. The ground beef in this recipe may not be the best cut of meat from the butcher but it embodies the true heart of the culture, and that’s what gives it the best possible flavor. This sauce holds the power to warm the body and soul after a long day of work or school, and it transports me back to the copper table in my kitchen with the whole family gathered around, breaking bread and discussing the latest piece of good news.

24 Abigail Vixama ‘24

between coming down from the highs of the holiday season as well as the hopefully anticipated resolutions of the new year lie the days in which the preparation for Soup Joumou—Haitian pumpkin soup—is done.

Some of my earliest memories involve my Mother foraging through Boston neighborhoods in search of the perfect winter squash that will serve as the bright, rich orange base of Soup Joumou. It usually takes two or three stores before finding a pumpkin promising enough to set the stage for the customary soup made by Haitians all across the globe.

to be served, my Mother opens the china cabinet and carefully takes out our antique white ironstone tureen, a deep covered dish that she reserves specifically for Soup Joumou each year.

After the Revolution in 1804, it became tradition for newly free Haitian people to reclaim the food previously excluded to them and the tradition has sustained more than two centuries, acting as a symbol of Haitian liberation and newfound independence.

Wedged

Next comes gathering the ingredients that not only accompany the star of the dish but act as equally important constituents of Soup Joumou. Beef chuck. Goat meat if we’re feeling fancy. Plantains, of course. Butternut squash, for added depth to the soup’s base. Flour and water to form doumbrey, a simple Haitian boiled dumpling often found in variety soups or stews. Epis, a spice blend consisting of Scotch Bonnet pep per, scallions, garlic, and other herbs which will aro matize the soup and add a robust flavor to the boiling pot in which all the ingredients will slowly simmer to perfection. These are just a handful of ingredients that will add richness and layers to the final dish.

We’ve been eating Soup Joumou for as long as I can remember. I don’t think there’s ever been a year in which it hasn’t been made for my family to enjoy together around the dining room table on January 1st, Haitian Independence Day. Once the soup is ready

It was only a couple years ago when I had become enlightened about the origins of the soup that we as Haitians cling to so dearly. Looking back now, there is a clear link between the annual preparation of one particular soup on a day as important as Haitian Inde pendence Day. During Haiti’s colonial occupation by France, before the Caribbean island’s first-of-its-kind revolt, enslaved Haitians were barred from eating the pumpkin soup which they were often found preparing; it was reserved only for the French enslavers who kept them from being free.

The Taste of Freedom

My Mother immigrated to the United States at the tender age of 19, my current age, and after about a decade started her family, my sister and me. I am beyond grateful for the way she adhered to traditions as important as these and carried them over from her small seaside commune in Haiti all the way to Boston. As I reflect on the historical and cultural significance of Soup Joumou to Haitians, I feel called now more than ever to maintain these traditions and share these stories for years to come.

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