Post #101 – Women’s Memoir Writing, ScrapMoir – Matilda Butler and Kendra Bonnett
Scrapbooking Our Memories, One Story at a Time
Stories get started in such interesting ways. This one traces its history back to a magazine photograph and recipe. Debbie Weiss’s memoir vignette draws us back to a special time and lets us consider traditions we’ve started that have ended. Sometimes we don’t knows why.
Memoir Contest Award Winner, Finalist
The Sixth Night of Hanukkah
Debbie Weiss
I kept licking my lips as I inhaled the delicious smells coming from the kitchen. Of course, I was not the one doing the cooking.
It was the sixth night of Hanukkah and we were preparing for our 3rd Annual Hanukkah/Christmas party. I loved to entertain. I was (and am) an amazing party planner.
Here’s how it all began, three years earlier. I happened to be looking through a cooking magazine, a rare thing for me to do, but the dessert on the cover looked so enticing. This was a holiday issue and as I thumbed through the pages, I found a picture of the most beautiful brisket I had ever seen. The color photo showed a lovely silver platter with probably a ten pound brisket on it. Cooked to a dark brown, you could even see how crispy the edges were. I was salivating just looking at the juices that ran down the cranberry-lined piece of meat. Carrots and browned onions formed a bed underneath. As I was eying the picture, a flood of ideas entered my brain. My husband, being a great cook, could probably make this brisket and I was sure it would look as good as it did in this photo and taste even better. As the wheels in my head kept turning, a Hanukkah party idea was born.
I made a guest list. I created a poem and designed my own invitations. I put together a menu. I was having so much fun. We would invite friends, family and my kids friends and parents from the elementary school they attended. There were not that many Jewish families in our community, so we thought it would be nice to share Hanukkah with children that may not celebrate the holiday. As the list grew longer so did my husband’s curiosity. “Who is doing the cooking for this party of yours?” He would ask me. He knew I was good at decorating and setting an amazing table. He knew quite well that turning on the stove was not my forte. I just smiled.
As he was off at several markets looking for the ingredients to make my party come alive, I was at the party stores looking for decorations. Just about everyone we invited was coming and our guest list was now at about sixty. He was not very pleased. But I kept smiling and not saying a word until party time, which was so hard for me. Although resistant, he was getting things together, I think he secretly liked having this party as much as I did but would not ever admit to it.
Fast forward three years. It was a beautiful night, crisp and clear, no rain in sight. White shiny stars adorned the black skies. It was early December and our party night had finally arrived. I’d spread a lovely white lace cloth on our large dining room table. On top lay shiny blue and gold mini Menorahs, gold foil chocolate gelt (chocolate coins), dreidels (spinning tops) of every color, shape and size. Banners across the walls said Happy Hanukkah, blue and white balloons with long ribbons of royal blue decorated the tables and hang down from the ceiling. It all looked so pretty. A huge variety of Menorahs (the candle holder that holds the nine candles you light each night at Hanukkah) was on another table. I like collecting Menorahs and have them in various colors, materials including wood and ceramic and shapes such as a dinosaur, dancers, and one that looks like a big wrapped present.
The brisket was still cooking as our friends arrived. We had two huge frying pans ablaze on the stove for the latkes (potato pancakes). Grandma was grating the potatoes and onions by hand. No mixer for her. She happily worked on the old metal hand-held grater she had for years and years. She usually cut her fingers as she grated those potatoes to the very tip. Luckily no bleeding fingers that evening. She put the mixture into a huge round bowl and added the seasonings. She didn’t ever measure anything; she just knew and they always came out perfect.
We had each family bring a wrapped present so the kids could have a gift exchange. One of the kids teachers came and played the piano that sits in the living room that no one ever plays. The house was alive with sounds of the music and happy voices. I had a mini hot-pink two-foot Christmas tree with purple tinsel sitting by the fire place. I happened to see it at a book store and it was too cute to resist. Some people brought food and dessert to share and the smells coming from the kitchen with everyone cooking together was just wonderful.
When the brisket was taken from the oven, it was truly a sight to see. Everyone standing near by applauded. The taste was unbelievable. Moist and juicy, crispy edges, dried cranberries. My husband who did not want to cook that brisket certainly outdid himself that evening. Everyone sat and ate and talked and laughed. Even though, this was the third year we were having the party with usually the same people and even the same brisket, it was still so much fun. Before having dessert we liked to light the candles. Some of our guests were now bringing their own Menorahs. We sang songs for a while, then lowered the lights and gathered together in front of the many Menorahs. We said the Prayers and lit the candles. The candles were aglow and you could feel such warmth and peace in the room. It truly felt like the Festival of Lights.
We turned the lights back on. The kids opened their presents and were joyfully playing. We had emptied the garage of cars and junk and even though there were 20 kids, no one got hurt that night, not even a fist fight over a toy. The adults sippied on hot coffee, ate chocolate and jelly doughnuts. I sat back on the couch and just observed. I loved having everyone over and seeing everyone enjoy themselves. I loved that we were able to have this party once again. I loved the taste of that brisket.
But it felt different this time when people were getting ready to leave. I still cannot explain it so many years later. My husband and children went to bed. I stayed up late to clean. As I walked around in the now silent house, I felt change coming, like this would be the last of our annual parties. After being so happy, I sudently felt so sad. It was a year away, I tried to reassure myself. Who knows what can happen in the year. New friends, new opportunities, but something kept gnawing at my stomach and it didn’t feel good.
I guess the vibe I felt that night was correct.
Unfortunately, that was the last Hanukkah/Christmas party we threw. I don’t really know why for sure. Maybe some of us drifted apart, the kids went to different schools for junior high. I guess I have to chalk it up to change and I don’t really like change. It’s hard for me. I miss those days.
I have since lost the cooking magazine that started it all. I’m sorry to say that yummy brisket has not ever been made since. But I’m delighted to share my grandmother’s Latke Recipe.
Latkes
2 pounds of potatoes
2 eggs
1 large onion
2 T flour
salt/pepper
oil, for frying
Peel potatoes
Finely grate the potatoes and onions
Beat the eggs and add to the potato and egg mixture
Season with salt and pepper, add 2 T flour and mix all together.
Heat oil in fry pan (very hot)
Take a tablespoon size helping of the mixture and drop into the oil.
Flatten a little
Cook until one side is sizzling and brown and crispy then turn over and do the same to the other side.
Serve hot
Can be served with applesauce, sour cream and strawberry jam or with ketchup, the way I like it.
Enjoy.
We hope you enjoyed Debbie’s memoir contest winning entry. Be sure to leave her a comment below.
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