My pal Ivan sent me a long story about nostalgia. Contrary to what some of you may believe, nostalgia is not curable with alka seltzer and I won’t copy the story here. If you want it you have to ask for it, and I will email you a copy. I have complaints from one of my few readers that they have seen and heard everything, so only original nostalgia will be posted here:
You know, the things I miss most are Kishke and Petcha. I never liked the chicken feet but my Grandma, when she could no longer get a cow’s foot, made her Petcha with chicken feet. Apparently they contained enough gelatin to firm up the dish after a day in the fridge. She always served the Petcha as a hot, yellow soup that contained enough garlic to create healthy hearts for a city full of cardiac patients. It was accompanied by warm twist Challah, and in summer you could smell the Petcha cooking a half a block away because she left the window open to take the heat out of the kitchen.
As Grandma grew older, she stopped worrying about cleaning the garlic and would just separate the cloves and smash them with a jelly jar. The glass on jelly jars was so thick that it was stronger than steel and perfect for smashing garlic. I think there were occasions when she forgot that she had already added garlic, so you got a double dose or even 3X the normal two buds per person. After the first spoonful it did not matter, because your taste buds were so anesthetized that you could chew Thai Chili Peppers and not notice the burn.