Mothers

The most consistent regret I've heard from my older family members is that they wish they had learned their ancestors' recipes before they were lost forever. I worry about this too, especially because I've moved away from home and can't pop into my grandma's room on a whim to ask about her spinach pie.

To pass these recipes along to the next generation of cooks in our family, I've compiled the most exciting ones into a cookbook. And by exciting, I mean the recipes that make people show up to a family dinner they might have otherwise skipped or make children say "OH! is Aunt Shirley making her famous broccoli tonight?!"

I've included the chicken recipe my sister cooked for her first big Rosh Ashanna dinner as an adult. She risked it all, trying a new recipe to serve to 30 people - but it paid off and now it's a staple! I've also told the story of the pavlova my mom made and ate so much of, that it triggered my birth. And the carbonara that burns her hands every time she makes it because she has to mix in the egg when it's just hot enough to cook but not curdle it. It's a highlight reel of the traditional, festive, but also dinner-should-have-been-ready-15-minutes-ago recipes, made by mothers at home.

This cookbook has been a blessing. I've had the honor of spending time learning each recipe from the cooks themselves, making notes as I watched them work their magic. When possible, I compared them to the illegible instructions in their disintegrating notebooks (and painstakingly translated and transcribed hundreds of pages). I have measured the immeasurable quantities, like "as much as it takes" or "until it looks right" that come from the experience of cooking every day for 70 years. I've also added in anecdotes, memories and cooking tricks that arise when you're in the kitchen, shoulder to shoulder with the cook. It's not a substitute for the real experience, but it's the next best thing.