Post #2 – Women’s Memoirs, ScrapMoir – Matilda Butler and Kendra Bonnett
By Tracy Kauffman Wood
My grandmother, Ida Kravitz, was one of the early hot dog vendors in Philadelphia. During the Great Depression, she was known as Mom, selling hot dogs with the works-mustard, onions, sauerkraut and her own recipe of pepper hash (she couldn’t afford the pickle relish) from a pushcart on the corner of Fourth and South Streets. She charged five cents and included a complimentary orange soda. Mom supported a family of thirteen through her efforts.
In the late forties, Ida handed the business down to her son Lenny, who created a chain of hot dog stands lasting through the seventies in Philadelphia and Margate.
My much adored Aunt Jean, shown in the photo in the black vest, often worked for Uncle Lenny. She stuffed hot dogs, fish cakes, mustard, chopped onions, sauerkraut and homemade pepper hash into warm buns, handed them over the counter to customers she addressed as “Baby” and “Doll.”
The economy has changed. It’s harder now for mom and pop to succeed in the free market. Hot dogs have changed for better or worse depending on whom you talk to. One thing remains the same. The recipe for life that Mom carried across an ocean from Mother Russia is still contained in a forkful of pepper hash. Life can be sweet as well as sour. If you respect, honor and make something beautiful of it, while it may bite, it will never lose its appeal.
Chose life. If it turns sour, make hot dogs with pepper hash. My mom* still does. She serves them to her friends and family while the spirit of her mother looks on. Here is her mother’s recipe:
Mom’s Pepper Hash
One head of cabbage, minced
Two large green peppers, minced
Two large carrots, minced
One cup sugar
One cup distilled white vinegar
One half cup water -or more if vinegar taste is strong
Salt to taste
Prepare vegetables. Add dry and liquid ingredients. Mix and taste as you go. Smother your hot dogs with this and the other toppings.
* My mother has died since I wrote this vignette and to my knowledge no longer cooks hot dogs. But I do, while the spirit of my grandmother looks on.
