WHERE LOVE IS MADE TANGIBLE
2/2010

GirlCook, my husband and my Dad, all in the kitchen...

At the moment of this photo, I didn’t even realize its magic, it all seemed so very fluid to me, so very natural, something you’ve done your whole life like breathing. A cook in her kitchen and the buzzing that happens all about her. My sister sets about to making her great salad dressing. My husband tests the tortellini and knows just what to do. My Dad takes the bread knife and carefully slices each slice. My nephew runs about here and there all light and sound and joy–no longer eager to drag out the stepstool, strap on one of my aprons and join right in, because, Aunt Linnie, ‘I’m a big boy now.’

We sip Prosecco and move as if in an intricate group dance that we’ve all practiced so long that it is no longer very complicated at all. We anticipate the results, a bountiful table, sitting elbow-to-elbow, commenting on our favorites, on our day, on memories of meals past and the fact that little Quinnie who used to be able to run under my kitchen counter, fitting perfectly underneath, now out-measures it by many inches. We will laugh, we always do. We will sit for a long time, we always do. We will not want it to end, we never do.

And every now and then someone will stop the dance and say, “turn around so I can take your picture” and the snapshot that comes will remind you that this dance that is so natural, so second nature, is a gift.

GALUMPKIS, SPAETZLE AND GRANDMA JULIE’S HANDS

There are seminal moments in a cook’s life and cooking with Grandma Julie on one cool fall day when she deemed I was ready to help her make stuffed cabbage or “galumpkis” was, for me, one of them. She lived out in the country where, yes, the tire hung from the tree; the woods surrounding the house were in a constant state of colorful disarray; a hunting dog ran, ran, ran; a tired car rested on the gravel drive; and a delicious smell was usually coming from that kitchen. Breads, pastries, roasts, pies and, my favorite, stuffed cabbage. In the Polish communities in our town, they’re known as “galumpkis” and this is what Grandma Julie called them.

I sometimes think it was the sweet meat and rice bundled in the savory cabbage with the piquant broth that I loved the most. But this is not really what I think of. I think of her hands. She had the hands of a cook. A gardener. A cleaner. A child rearer. A seamstress. They were a working woman’s hands and I loved watching them. They could darn, hem and stitch without her even looking down; hoe land to create a sea of gladioli in a summer garden; knead bread for 10 minutes as if it were effortless; pick a salad or an herbal remedy out of a field; and wrap a galumpki like nobody’s business.

Cooking in our large suburban kitchen, all clean, stainless and flocked gave me my first taste of cooking, but it was in her messy, hot, small, worn GirlCook haven that I learned what cooking was all about. There was nothing tidy, predictable or orderly about this process. It was all about a dash, a pinch, a taste, a stir, another taste, a reach into the cupboard for a tin of this and that. It was about feeling it as much as planning it. It was about notes jotted down on paper and, occasionally, an old red gingham covered Better Homes & Gardens cookbook used more as a weight than a recipe book. It was about that dance a cook does that I never tire of. And she let me help with the patience and the kindness of a GirlCook who had long ago in her own Grandmother’s kitchen learned to do what I was now doing; blanch the big veined leaves, wrap the tight transparent bundles, add a pinch of sugar to sweeten the brew; all with those hands that I loved to watch.

This week my Mom told me that it would have been Grandma Julie’s birthday. So my stepfather, Bobby, made galumpkis to mark the occasion. And we sopped up the sauce with spaetzle that I made at Bobby’s stove with Mom watching over the proceedings and my sister assisting (and taking blog photos!).

Grandma Julie would have loved it and when I think of her, I often wish I could have cooked for her. She left this world too soon. I imagine this meal in my head so often. We would all prepare it for her— together, Patti, our Mom and me.

She would sit at a summer table that my Mom would set for her as only she could. The window would be open so she could see Mom’s beautiful garden and the table would have tiny pink roses, Grandma Julie’s favorites. There would be plates with colors to match, candles, adornments, napkin holders in the shapes of tree branches, tea in the tiny china cups. She would wear a beautiful dress, the kind she never got to wear as she raised her own kids and then the next generation when her own son couldn’t. We would have her hair done, a dab of lipstick, soft green eyeshadow to sparkle like her eyes. Her hands would be uncertain, not knowing how to be a bystander, a guest, the one to be taken care of. We would make lobster for her and she’d have wine and tiny perfect cakes. And I would tell her about the time she let me cook with her and how I think of her every time I tie an apron around my waist.

I winced when I thought this thought and then looked into my Mom’s eyes, those twinkling, kind eyes, the soft hair framing her face, her broad shoulders, her hands so familiar…and I knew Grandma Julie was not far from us.

Galumpkis:

1 Small head of cabbage, cored, leaves separated and washed
1 Lb. ground beef
1 Small onion, chopped
1 Cup cooked white rice
1 Egg
1 Can crushed tomatoes
Salt and Pepper to Taste
1 TBS. white vinegar
1 TBS. sugar
1 TBS caraway seeds

1. Blance the cabbage leaves until wilted, approximately 10 minutes in boiling water
2. Saute the onion and beef until beef is just cooked. Add salt and pepper.
2. Combine beef mixture, cooked rice and egg until well mixed (vintage GirlCooks use their hands!)
3. Place cabbage leaves curve side down and place enough meat mixture in middle of each leaf so that they can be folded.

4. Fold like a burrito: two side first, then roll to close the envelopes tightly. Repeat with all cabbage leaves and meat.
5. Place all cabbages in a large pot with fitted lid. Add tomatoes, white vinegar, sugar, caraway seeds, salt and pepper and water to cover the cabbage rolls.
6. Cook for 2 hours with lid on and low/medium heat on the stovetop.

Bobby usually serves his with mashed potatoes, spaetzle, those little tiny pasta dumplings are terrific and so easy to make:

Spaetzle

2 Cups sifted flour
2/3 Cup milk
3 Eggs, slightly beaten
1/8 tsp. freshly grated nutmeg
Salt to taste

Prepare a large pot of boiling water

1. Combine flour and beaten eggs in a medium bowl, beating with hand mixer or wire whisk (I prefer the electric hand mixer or stand mixer for a super smooth batter done quickly)
2. Slowly add the milk, whisking or beating constantly until the mixture is smooth. Add nutmeg and salt.
The texture of this mixture should be slightly thicker than pancake batter so that it is thin enough to flow through your colander, but thick enough to hold their shape.
3. Put a colander or spaetzle maker over the boiling water and add the batter letting the batter fall into the boiling water.

4. The spaetzle are done when they float and this happens very quickly.

Done when they float

Be sure to make them with people you love, they taste better that way. Can you tell cooking with my girls was my favorite part?

Carla & Riana in the kitchen

We don’t do it enough…get our kids in the kitchen and cook together.

Cook with our Grandma or Grandpa.

Cook with our Moms or our Dads.

This page will celebrate those great cooking experiences…where we all gather in the kitchen!!

This past Christmas, Carla, Riana and I made homemade marshmallows together…we had a blast, I love when GirlCooks bond in the kitchen. Here are some stories…

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