Mommy's Boy Learns to Cook

By Joel Chorny
George Washington University

We all have a favorite dish our mothers and our grandmothers made for us as children, and we all have had the potentially heated debates over whose mother makes the best matzah ball soup/brisket/latkes/knishes/goulash ... The list seems endless. This article is not about how my mother and grandmother make the best food in the world, but rather this article is about a sad realization we all have to make at some point and that I have come to accept after just one semester of living away from my parents: Our mothers and grandmothers are not always going to be around to make our favorite dishes for us.

Before I go into the details of how I finally came to grips with this harsh fact, let me give you some background. I can EAT. People who know me know that when I like a dish, I will eat a lot of it. However, I am not the only person in my family with this trait; my brother and sister are good eaters as well. My mother, in all her wisdom, is quite aware of this fact and makes sure to cook plenty of the good stuff for us. Any time I go to visit my parents, my mother cooks up a storm. Of all the excellent dishes she makes, my unequivocal favorite is her kugel – which, by the way, is salty, the way kugel was always meant to be. The other thing you should know is that throughout college, I only lived about an hour away from my parents, so the craving for home cooking never got too far out of hand. I would come home almost on a weekly basis and I would praise my mother's cooking (as all good Jewish boys should do) and my mother would tell me that someday I would have to learn to make her food for myself. In response to what I thought was nothing more than a suggestion, I would look at her with an expression meant to convey, "Come on, why ruin a good thing? It's better if I don't know how to make it myself and I come visit you … I love you, Mom." My mother would look at my face, smile and be happy that I enjoyed coming home so much.

Now I am in graduate school and significantly farther from my parents. I go many, many, many … (sorry, a little self pity) … months without having my mother's cooking. Ok, so now I have drawn the picture.

This year, I spent my winter break with my girlfriend and her parents. My girlfriend's mother is an excellent cook, but as you probably can guess, not as good as MY mother. Anyway, while I was visiting, she made a kugel. I was very excited. It had been at least six months since I had eaten my favorite dish and finally, I was going to have it. It looked great. My mouth was watering, my eyes were wide and the anticipation was high. I took a bite … and … it was SWEET! Growing up, I learned from experience that kugel is a savory dish; it isn't supposed to be sweet!!! Fortunately I am very comfortable with my girlfriend's parents, so I voiced my concerns. Looking back, I wonder how good of an idea that was. I told them, "Your kugel is great, but it's sweet. It's supposed to be salty, like MY mother makes." What was I thinking? Everyone knows that it's okay to defend your mother's cooking, but you don't go and attack someone else's mother's cooking. The debate can be heated, but it is always polite. I was being quite the shmendrik, but my girlfriend's mother handled the situation very astutely. She basically said, "Well then, show us." As the expression goes, "If you want something done right, do it yourself." I was taken aback. I didn't know how to make my mother's kugel. My MOTHER is the one who makes my mother's kugel, not me!

However, I was committed. I couldn't back out now. I called my mother and I said to her in a voice attempting to recreate childhood innocence, a difficult task for a 6-foot-3-inch, 300-pound bearded man, "Mom, you know how you've always said I should learn to cook the kugel for myself?" "Yes … " she said in that tone that means get to the point, which mothers so avidly use, "Well, I think I should learn that now." My mother laughed, sort of saying, "Oh really?" and gave me the recipe, which was all estimates from memory. (Note to mothers: write your measurements down! Not everyone knows what you mean by "5-8 eggs depending on the size.")

I went ahead and made the kugel with the help of my girlfriend and her mother. It came out really well and I had made plenty. Why didn't I ever think of it before? If I can make it myself I can make as much of it as I want! It was great, but of course my girlfriend would not admit it was better than her mom's.

So take my word for it. We all have to leave the nest at some point, but that doesn't mean we cannot keep eating the food we grew up on. I guess part of growing up is learning to make your mom's best dishes. Perhaps someday my kids will call me up and ask ME for the recipe.

Joel Chorny is currently a first-year law student at the George Washington University Law School. He received a bachelor's degree in economics from Penn State University and is an alumnus of KOACH's 2006 Taglit-birthright israel program.

[Posted 3/6/08]