The Food of Memory

In the nine months since its publication, “In Memory’s Kitchen: A Legacy of the Women of Terezin”--a “found” cookbook assembled from the scrawled notes of prisoners in a German-run Czech concentration camp--has sold more than 50,000 copies and stirred forgotten images of the past for many American Jews. For author Charlotte Innes, the book brought to mind her grandfather, Bernhard Einzig, who died at Terezin.

*

One woman remembers her grandmother by the movement of the sinews in her hands as she cooked.

A man recalls that his mother, shortly before she died, made a nourishing soup that more than anything else kept the family going, physically and emotionally, through a difficult time.

Another speaks of the last occasion her grandmother made pirogen for her, just three days before she died. Fifteen years later, the pirogen are still in the woman’s freezer. She can’t bear to throw out or to eat this reminder of her beloved grandmother.

These memories of food and family, of food as spiritual sustenance and honored tradition, are just a few of the stories people have told Cara De Silva, editor of an unusual cookbook called “In Memory’s Kitchen: A Legacy From the Women of Terezin” (Jason Aronson Inc., $25). The book consists of 82 recipes written down by a group of women incarcerated in a Czech concentration camp (then known as Theresienstadt) during World War II; the recipes were translated from Czech and German by Bianca Steiner Brown (herself a Terezin survivor).

“People are realizing the importance of their own traditions, their bonds to their parents, their aunts and uncles,” De Silva says. “It’s a way to reinforce who they are.”

Given that 35 publishers initially turned down the manuscript, the response to the book in the nine months after the publication has been overwhelming, De Silva says. Not only has “In Memory’s Kitchen” sold 50,000 copies so far, but whenever De Silva speaks, at synagogues and cultural centers, hundreds of people show up.

I was one of the 250 who turned up when De Silva spoke recently at the Skirball Cultural Center in West L.A. But my interest was not solely journalistic. My grandfather, Bernhard Einzig, died in Theresienstadt.

After reading “In Memory’s Kitchen,” I felt a touch shaken, so I hauled out one of my favorite children’s books, illustrated by my artist aunt, Susan Einzig. The final picture is of a little girl happily eating tea with her beaming father, who is almost the spitting image of Bernhard. It’s a picture that always makes me feel strangely content. And as I think about that, I begin to understand what those other readers of “In Memory’s Kitchen” are going through when they use food to sustain them through their losses. This in turn sends me delving into my ambivalent feelings about my own Jewish heritage.

Until nine years ago, I had no idea what had happened to my grandfather. My father and his sister, Susan, escaped Germany for England shortly before the war, while my grandparents, Bernhard and Eugenia Einzig, after hiding out in Berlin, boarded a train to Switzerland. At the border, he was detained; she was not. That was all we knew.

Only by writing to Yad Vashem, the Holocaust archive in Israel, did I learn that in December 1943, Bernhard was sent to Theresienstadt, a little fortress town not far from Prague that was used as a way station to the death camps in the east. Dirty, over-crowded, disease-ridden, it was nevertheless presented by Hitler to the world as a “model ghetto,” a “rest home” for Jewish Prominenten, artists, writers, musicians, thinkers, as well as Czech citizens and decorated old soldiers like my grandfather. (It was an outrageous lie, since hundreds of people starved to death every day.)

A few years ago, my father visited Terezin and discovered my grandfather’s memorial stone. The date of his death was May 8, 1945--the very day the camp was liberated by the Russians. He was 70 years old.

Although these stories make me sad, I’ve always felt estranged from my Jewish heritage since my father was not religious and we celebrated none of the Jewish holidays. I am aware only of my ignorance and a sense of Jewishness defined by oppression rather than tradition. I’ve tended increasingly to see myself as a citizen of the world, belonging nowhere, savoring traditions as I encounter them.

But, as De Silva points out, some people, who may not relate to written history, let their imaginations open up to a cookbook. Reading “In Memory’s Kitchen,” looking at my aunt’s picture, turning over the few photographs I have of my grandparents, I am jolted sideways into a review of my own food traditions and an oddly sweet communion with the past.

My grandfather was an Austro-Hungarian cavalry officer in World War I, a Czech-born, assimilated Jew who felt at home in his adopted country. He was also a coat manufacturer who read British philosophy and invited chamber orchestras for after-dinner musical evenings at his house in Berlin. As a child, I visited that house--it’s now a university building--and the little Czech town of Liptovsky Mikulas where my grandfather was born.

Now, leafing through “In Memory’s Kitchen,” the grainy past gains a little color. I wonder if my grandfather in his Czech childhood ate Goose Neck stuffed with Farina or Onion Kuchen or the Chicken Galantine described by the anonymous recipe writer in the book as “plentiful and pretty.” Did he savor any Rose Hip Kisses rich in jam and hazelnuts, or warm up on a cold winter’s day with Cherry-Plum Dumplings, perhaps with a sip of Rye Schnaps?

How the past creeps into the present. My own food history is mixed. Lunch when I was a child was undeniably English: bangers and mash, Shepherd’s Pie, pork with Yorkshire Pudding, accompanied by years of overcooked Brussels sprouts. Supper was part-German, salami and pumpernickel--purchased at Hodgkinson’s, the one shop in my home town of Derby that sold “Continental food”--with English flourishes, jam, cakes, and, of course, lashings of strong tea.

There was also the warping influence of the Holocaust, my family’s refugee-itis in connection with food. Like the woman who told De Silva that her survivor grandmother ate oranges whole, that is, skin, pips and all--you never waste any food--my father filled the larder weekly with endless cans, as if preparing for a siege. On vacation (always camping, often three-week tours across Europe), the car turned into a little floating island of English safety, loaded with cans of beef stew, oxtail soup, peas, fruit, as well as bags of potatoes and apples.

Nor am I immune. I get anxious if Tristan, my cat, has fewer than four cans of Nine Lives at his disposal. And only if I’m stocked up on what I consider to be essentials (milk, tea, bread, eggs, cereal, fruit and cookies), do I feel secure.

The beauty of “In Memory’s Kitchen” is that it reflects many ways of being Jewish. I have to admit to a sneaking relief when I learn that some of the recipes are not kosher, a telling clue to the assimilated nature of Czech Jews--my heritage!--while one recipe, for War Dessert, reflects the influence of the times and a tradition that is always evolving.

Indeed, I now understand that this is a culture in which oppression and ritual are inextricably entwined. What is Passover but a celebration of the survival of the oppressed Jews of ancient Egypt? And Jewish cooking is surely one of the most global cuisines--”The Book of Jewish Food” by Claudia Roden even has a section on Chinese Jews--validating my urge to be a citizen of the world. Clearly, my fractured heritage is as much a part of the beleaguered yet exuberantly thriving Jewish tradition as gefilte fish and bitter herbs.

That the original fragile, hand-sewn manuscript of “In Memory’s Kitchen” should not only have been written but survived is quite remarkable. After the war, it traveled from Europe to Israel, carried by survivors, until it reached New York and fell into the hands of Anny Stern, the daughter of Mina Pachter, one of the book’s recipe writers, almost 30 years after Pachter’s death from starvation in Terezin. The document lay in a drawer for years until Stern showed it to a friend, Dalia Carmel, who in turn gave it to De Silva, then a feature writer for Newsday. De Silva wrote an article and wound up editing the book.

As she and others continue to speak about “In Memory’s Kitchen,” further pieces of the past emerge. Stern’s son, David, a physicist for NASA in Greenbelt, Md., heard from the daughter of Vally Grabscheid, another of the book’s contributors. Now living in Israel, the daughter, who was also in the camp, wrote Stern that she remembered his grandmother, Mina Pachter, as a kind woman who once gave her a piece of margarine “the size of a nut” for repairing a dress, and who wrote a poem for her wedding day in the camp.

My equivocal heart warmed to Stern when he said, “It’s the kind of thing you don’t know how to take. We get a lot of things handed to us. All you can do is remember, and hand them on.”

Nothing can lessen the horror of Terezin. I shudder at the thought of my 70-year-old grandfather rooting about in camp garbage for dirty potato peelings--the elderly were given the lowest rations at Theresienstadt and it turned them into desperate scavengers. Still, I can’t help but feel that those brave women who “cooked with the mouth,” as they called it, contributed something of tremendous value, not simply a historical document but a lesson in humanity. I can only hope that my culturally minded grandfather gained some peace from the women’s creativity and from all the other truth-telling artists of Theresienstadt who, as Mina Pachter put it so poignantly in her recipe for Stuffed Eggs, “let fantasy run free.”

Innes writes about books for many publications including the Los Angeles Times, the Nation and L.A. Weekly.

Platters from Montana Country Antiques & Decorative Arts, Santa Monica.

Pachter Torte

15 dkg Zucker, 15 dkg Butter, 15 dkg ger. Haselnusse, 10 dkg erweichte Schokolade, oder 2 Essloffel Cakau, Zitronenschale, 3 Essloffel starken schwarzen Kaffee, 2 ganze Eier, 2 Dotter, werden 1/4 Stunde lang fest geruhrt, dann den Schnee von den 2 Eiweiss, 20 dkg Mehl.

Pachter’s Cake

Whisk 150 grams sugar, 150 grams unsalted butter, 150 grams ground hazelnuts, 100 grams softened chocolate or 2 tablespoons cocoa, lemon peel, 3 tablespoons strong black coffee, 2 eggs, 2 egg yolks for 15 minutes, add 2 egg whites, stiffly beaten, 200 grams flour. (The recipe, incomplete, stopped here.)

PACHTER’S CAKE

(Pachter Torte)

3 1/2 ounces semisweet chocolate

1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened, plus extra for greasing pan

3/4 cup sugar

4 eggs

3 tablespoons strong coffee

1 1/4 cups ground hazelnuts (about 1/4 pound whole)

1 1/3 cups flour, plus extra for dusting pan

1/2 teaspoon grated lemon peel

This is one of the recipes that was incomplete, ending after the cake was baked and cooled. Bianca Steiner Brown suggests finishing the cake by spreading it with strained apricot preserves, glazing it with chocolate icing or sprinkling it with powdered sugar and serving with sweetened whipped cream.

Melt chocolate over simmering water in double-boiler, about 5 minutes. Set aside to cool.

Cream butter and sugar in large bowl by beating with electric mixer until pale and fluffy, 2 to 3 minutes.

Separate whites and yolks of 2 eggs. Set aside.

Add remaining whole eggs, 1 at a time, to butter-sugar mixture, beating well after each addition. Add yolks, beating well.

Beat in melted chocolate, then 1 tablespoon coffee, half of ground hazelnuts, additional tablespoon coffee, half of flour, remaining tablespoon coffee, then grated lemon peel.

Beat whites in separate bowl until stiff, 2 to 3 minutes. Gently fold into batter alternately with remaining ground hazelnuts and flour.

Pour batter into lightly greased and floured 8-inch cake pan, smoothing top. Rap pan twice on hard surface to expel air bubbles. Bake at 350 degrees until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean, 35 to 40 minutes.

Let cake layer cool in pan on rack 10 minutes. Invert on rack and let cool completely.

8 to 12 servings. Each of 12 servings:

308 calories; 23 mg sodium; 97 mg cholesterol; 21 grams fat; 29 grams carbohydrates; 5 grams protein; 0.49 gram fiber.

Makove Rezy

3 vajicka, 14 dkg cukru, 7 dkg masla, 7 dkg mleteho maku, 7 dkg orechu, citronova st’ava a kura, snih. Na plech namazat. Upeceny, marmeladou plnit, povrch glasura.

Poppy Seed Slices

3 eggs, 140 grams sugar, 70 grams butter, 70 grams ground poppy seeds, 70 grams walnuts, lemon juice and lemon rind, stiffly beaten egg whites. Grease baking sheet. When baked, fill with jam, top with icing.

*

POPPY SEED SLICES

(Makove Rezy)

5 tablespoons butter, softened, plus extra for greasing pan

2/3 cup sugar

3 eggs, separated

3/4 cup ground poppy seeds

1/2 cup ground walnuts

1 tablespoon lemon juice

1/2 teaspoon grated lemon zest

1/3 cup apricot or raspberry preserves

Powdered sugar, optional

Lemon glaze, optional

Most people are used to eating poppy seeds as a filling. These dense slices, however, are all poppy seeds, with an intense flavor unmitigated by cake or pastry or cookie. It’s also very difficult to slice. One variation suggested by The Times Test Kitchen was to use the poppy seed cake as the filling in a layer cake, perhaps with a bit of custard between the layers as well. Note that 1 (2.6-ounce) jar of poppy seeds makes about 1/2 cup ground seeds. If you don’t have a poppy-seed grinder, use a coffee bean grinder for the poppy seeds and the walnuts.

Cream butter and sugar in large bowl by beating with electric mixer until light and fluffy, 2 to 3 minutes. Add egg yolks, 1 at a time, beating well after each addition.

Beat in poppy seeds and walnuts. Add lemon juice and lemon zest.

Beat egg whites in separate bowl until stiff but not dry. Stir 1/3 egg whites into batter to lighten. Fold rest of egg whites into batter.

Pour batter into lightly greased and floured 8-inch-square pan lined with parchment paper, smoothing top. Bake at 350 degrees until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean, 30 to 35 minutes.

Let cake layer cool in pan for 10 minutes. Invert on rack and let cool completely.

Cut cake into quarters and split each quarter in half horizontally. Spread cut side of each half with 2 teaspoons preserves and put halves back together. Sprinkle top with powdered sugar or spread with lemon glaze if desired. When glaze is dry, cut into 3/4-inch-wide strips.

16 slices. Each slice:

155 calories; 51 mg sodium; 50 mg cholesterol; 10 grams fat; 15 grams carbohydrates; 3 grams protein; 0.65 gram fiber.

LEMON GLAZE

2 1/2 tablespoons butter

1 cup powdered sugar

2 tablespoons lemon juice

1/2 teaspoon finely chopped lemon peel zest

Brown did not include a lemon glaze recipe, so we used this simple recipe on the Poppy Seed Slices we made in The Times Test Kitchen.

Heat butter in saucepan over medium-low heat until melted, about 2 minutes. Whisk in powdered sugar, lemon juice and lemon zest.

1/2 cup. Each tablespoon:

91 calories; 37 mg sodium; 10 mg cholesterol; 4 grams fat; 15 grams carbohydrates; 0 protein; 0 fiber.

*

Mazeloksch

Mache einen Pleweteig aus 8 Dotter, 20 Deca Zucker, Zitronenschale, den Schnee von den Eiweiss (ohne Mehl). Jetzt schmiere ein Casseroll mit Gansfett, befeuchte dunne Mazen mit Wein oder Wasser, lege eine Lage Mazes in die Form, betropfe es tuchtig mit heissem Gansfett, bestreue es mit grossgehackten Mandeln, Zimt, u. giesse darauf von dem Pleweteig & wieder verfahre mit den Mazen so oft es geht immer mit heissem Gansfett betropfen. So viel als man den Pleweteig hat. Es sollen ungef. 8-9 Lagen sein und backe es in heisser Rohre.

Matzo Pudding

Make a batter from 8 egg yolks, 200 grams sugar, grated lemon peel and the egg whites, stiffly beaten (without flour). Grease a baking dish with goose fat, dampen thin matzos with wine or water. In a baking dish, make a layer of matzos, sprinkle them generously with hot goose fat, coarsely chopped almonds, cinnamon, pour some of the batter and continue making layers with matzos, almonds and cinnamon and always sprinkle with hot goose fat, until all the batter is used; there should be 8-9 layers. Bake in a hot oven.

*

MATZO PUDDING

(Mazeloksch)

8 eggs, separated

1 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar

1 tablespoon grated lemon peel

Pinch salt

8 (1-ounce) pieces unsalted matzos

1 cup Kosher for Passover white wine or water

1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon

1 (7 1/2-ounce) jar rendered goose or chicken fat, or 1 cup melted butter

1 1/4 cups coarsely chopped almonds (about 6 ounces)

Beat egg yolks and 2/3 cup sugar with electric mixer until mixture forms ribbons, 3 to 4 minutes. Beat in lemon peel. Set aside.

Beat egg whites with pinch salt in separate bowl until frothy, 1 to 2 minutes. Continue beating and gradually add additional 1/3 cup sugar, beating until stiff, 2 to 3 more minutes.

Gently fold 1/4 of beaten egg whites into yolk mixture. Then fold yolk mixture into remaining egg whites.

Sprinkle matzos with wine and let stand 2 to 3 minutes. They should still be crisp.

Combine cinnamon and remaining 2 tablespoons sugar to make cinnamon sugar. Set aside.

Grease 13x9-inch baking dish with fat. Break 2 matzos into pieces and put in bottom of dish to make 1 layer. Spread layer with 1/4 cup fat. Spoon 3 cups batter over matzos to make 1/2-inch layer, then sprinkle with 1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon sugar and 1/4 cup almonds.

Repeat with layer of 2 matzos, 1/4 cup fat, 2 cups batter, 1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon sugar and 1/4 cup almonds. Repeat again to make 3rd layer. For 4th layer, use 2 matzos, 1/4 cup fat, 2 cups batter, 3 teaspoons cinnamon sugar and 1/2 cup almonds.

Bake at 350 degrees until puffy and browned, about 45 minutes. (Note: If using glass baking dish, reduce oven temperature to 325 degrees.) Cut into squares and serve immediately.

8 to 12 servings. Each of 12 servings:

403 calories; 71 mg sodium; 152 mg cholesterol; 23 grams fat; 39 grams carbohydrates; 9 grams protein; 0.76 gram fiber.