Reflections on My Beloved Grandmothers: A Journey Through Love, Cooking and Legacy

I fondly remember my grandmother, who played a crucial role in shaping me as a young child. When I think of her, I am overwhelmed with memories of those Sundays where we enjoyed a delicious meal, particularly fried chicken, at her table.

She was a half-German and half-Czech woman, and while I appreciated her strictness, it was her culinary prowess that truly captivated me. Every Sunday, we looked forward to her cooking, and the delicious fare was a constant reminder of her love and care. However, as a child, I was more interested in exploring different neighborhoods rather than staying indoors to listen to the conversations about the past. It wasn't until later that I appreciated the depth of her wisdom and the values she imparted.

Novelly, I am about to become a grandmother for the first time, nearly at the age of 70, and I find it hard to describe the profound impact of my maternal grandmother, my wonderful Bubbie. In Yiddish, a term for grandmother, she was the epitome of love, wrapped in her chubby body, a bundle of love and joy.

My Bubbie was an archetypal Jewish grandmother, living in her household from the age of 3 until just past 13. During this time, she not only raised me but also served as the essential model and ideal for being a woman. My mother, though loving, was not always able to fulfill these roles due to her mental illness. From my grandmother, I learned crucial life skills, including cooking, albeit in a more traditional and conventional manner. However, her chicken soup remains a cherished recipe that I still prepare to this day.

One of my fondest memories is sitting with my grandmother and her cooking. Her chicken soup was a delicious blend of flavors, and it was always a highlight of our gatherings. As I now approach motherhood, I reflect on the lessons and the legacy my grandmother left behind, aiming to carry forward her loving, generous, and caring spirit to my own children.

While my paternal grandmother did not speak much English, our relationship was spontaneous and delightful. We visited each other most Sundays, and despite her chicken soup not quite matching Bubbie's, it was still a cherished part of our family traditions.

Thanks for taking me on this lovely trip down memory lane, Bubala! As I continue to move forward, I carry the memory and teachings of both my grandmothers with me, ensuring that the legacy of love and family traditions continues to thrive.