Mouth-watering, Marvelous, MATZO BREI!

After devouring a plate of homemade matzo brei this morning, my husband of 63 years, declared: “The world would be a better place if everyone ate matzo brei.” We laughed and I agreed and thought about the role of matzo brei in my family and others.

Matzo Brei is a favorite amongst, but not limited to, Jewish people, almost in a category with French toast. Although I will say that one-third of my family, down to the great-grandchildren, favor matzo brei, one-third prefer French toast, and the last third, eat whatever’s put in front of them.

Matzo brei is identified with Passover, but is enjoyed all year round. It’s usually served for breakfast, but is great at other meals. I like the simplicity of serving matzo brei because it doesn’t require putting a lot of things on the table. The eggs and bread are combined in one dish.

To make matzo brei, I use one matzo for each serving. The recipe, which can be found in my cookbook, A Glub, Glub & A Shake Shake, instructs to break the matzo into pieces and cover with water for a minute or two. Then drain the matzo and add beat up eggs and a little milk for another couple of minutes, and then fry in butter or margarine, scrambling the mixture to cook it evenly and prevent it from sticking to the pan. There are many variations where people add vegetables or even meat but we like it plain. Marty adds strawberry jam; I like salt and pepper and my son uses tamari sauce to season his plate.

My grandsons used to consume mountains of matzo brei and I would use five matzos and five eggs for the two of them. My oldest grandson had the idea that we open a matzo brei restaurant together. He’s become a social worker instead, but still loves matzo brei.

I can think of many reasons why the world would be a better place if everyone ate matzo brei. Can you?

 

 

 

 

 

SONGS I LEARNED FROM MY MOTHER AND FATHER

 

“Take me out to the Ball Game, take me out to the crowd…”I can still hear my granddaughter, Ruby, now nineteen, sing that song, years ago.

Does anyone over 4 sing anymore? Do we spend too much time texting or in front of a computer screen? Or do we not hear music that makes us want to sing?

I remember the broken heart love songs my mother used to sing like, “The Isle Of Capri” and “Whistling in the Dark.” My dad’s preferred whacky ditties and ballads, such as “The Old Carnarsie Line” and “Grandpa’s Old Brown Pants.” We serenaded my parents at their 50h anniversary party with, ”How do I Know My Youth is All Spent,” the song memorialized by Pete Seeger. You can just imagine my father’s joy upon hearing his grandchildren bellow his old favorite, “Grandpa’ Old Brown Pants.”

l-r: My cousin Stephen, Lisa, David, Naomi, Madeline, niece Debbie and nephew Mark, 1979

I know that I am no Barbra Streisand but I did sing with the choir in college and performed as a member of the chorus with the Gilbert and Sullivan Society. Regina Resnick, the opera star, gave guest concerts for Hillel, at Hunter College and I was part of the chorus that provided accompaniment. Yet if I attempted to sing, when my children were growing up, I was greeted with nothing but scowls. Recently I was singing “On the Old Carnarsie Line” and my daughter couldn’t understand why she hadn’t heard that song before.

I always enjoyed reading to my children, grandchildren, and now to my great-grandchildren. When I am with my great-grandchildren we enjoy singing together, regardless of who’s listening. One of our favorites is “If All the Raindrops Were Lemon Drops and Gumdrops.” 

 

“Grandpa’s Old Brown Pants”

Oh, my grandfather he, at the age of 83
Thought one Sunday morning he was going to die.
And when he was dead, why they took him from his bed.
And hung him on the clothesline to dry.

To my brother it was found, he had left 1000 pounds,
The same to “Eobaimer”, they called Ned.
But when it came to me, the lawyer said I see.
He’s left to you his old brown pants.

Chorus:
How they tittered, how they laughed, how my brother and sister yelled
How they goad me whenever they got the chance,
Cause my grandfather left to me his old brown pants.

One bright summer’s day Isabella chanced to stray
By the river and she thought she’d take a swim.
And the billy goat showed his nose and he ate up all her clothes,
Being summer, her garments they were thin.

I had business there the day and I also chanced to stray
By the river and I saw her situation at a glance
I went over to sister Belle, and I started in to yell,
How’d you like to have the old brown pants?

No more they titter, no more they laugh, no more my brother and sister yell.
No more they goad me whenever they get the chance,
Cause my grandfather left to me his old brown pants.

 

The Road to Recovery

Two months out of surgery and I’m reflecting on my achievements during recuperation.

First of all, I’ve contributed to the economy by providing employment for an army of health care professionals.

Since I was semi -house bound for three weeks, and didn’t do the grocery shopping, I managed to clean out the refrigerator. Marty remarked that he could actually see the back wall of the fridge.

As for personal accomplishments: I read two books. I knitted two animal hats for two of my great -grandsons, a hippopotamus for Uri and a Koala bear for Nakshone. I even wrote two blogs. 

With the help and encouragement of my loving family, I am walking straighter than I did before surgery, and with little pain. I have to confess that I was beginning to enjoy being pampered and catered to. However, too much of a good thing is too much. Now I‘m happy to drive and do my own shopping and some cooking.

I’ve resumed participation in the water exercise program at the Y. It’s much better than “4 in 1 Motor Oil” for lubricating joints and strengthening muscles.

About two weeks ago I even traveled to New Jersey, as a passenger, for a holiday dinner with my great- grandchildren.

I can’t ask for much better than that, can I? As my father would say, “Every day is a bonus.”

 

 

 

 

Achoo!

Recently, our children helped Marty and I celebrate our 60^th   wedding anniversary, with assistance from practically all the grandchildren and great grandchildren.

The Klein Sibling Quartet

 

Our children cooked a delicious lunch and Madeline; the family pastry chef supplied two scrumptious cakes that were devoured. They roasted and toasted us. They put on a multi-vintage slide show and ran a black and white silent film of our wedding.

Although the cast of characters has changed, believe me, some things never change. On the day of our anniversary celebration, Marty and I were fighting fierce colds and I refrained from kissing the guests, especially the little ones. April 4^th, 1954 was a blustery, cold day. After running around with bare shoulders I was coughing and sneezing in tune with the band.

On the first day of our honeymoon we drove to Macon, Georgia and visited old friends of Marty’s, Bunnie and Vera Godfrey.

After 60 years Vera reminds me of the beautiful onyx tray that I sent them from Mexico. After 60 years I’m still grateful for Vera’s gift of the box of cough drops that saved my life.

 

 

 

Don’t Forget the Ladies! Books for Boys AND Girls!

While looking for books for my great- grandchildren, I discovered  Goodnight, Goodnight, Construction Site and knew immediately that it was perfect for my 3-year- old great- grandson. When I read the story to him we had great fun imitating the sounds that each vehicle made. He taught me how each piece of equipment worked. This delightful story not only introduces children to heavy construction equipment, but is a reminder that everything, (and everyone) has to take a rest. The book is dedicated to all little boys who love trucks.  

My three daughters, and my son, had books about trucks, toy trucks, and could identify every kind of truck. We had a farm, and when they were older, they all had the unique “privilege” of using the truck to deliver eggs, as well as the “privilege” of cutting the lawn with the tractor. My oldest daughter, when she was about two or three, had an obsession with bulldozers, which she called “boogozers.” She would tell her sister, who was about one or two, “See Naomi, that’s a boogozer,” if we passed one on the road. My father-law exclaimed that Naomi would be very smart, because her big sister was teaching her everything. We hired a bulldozer operator to do the site preparation for construction on the farm.  My daughter would stand on her bed and watch the bulldozer from the  window for hours. She was totally devastated when the job was completed, and couldn’t understand why her father wouldn’t buy her a  “boogozer.”

The author of Goodnight, Goodnight, Construction Site, Sherri Disker Rinker has two sons. If she had a daughter as well, she’d have realized that girls also love construction sites. I remember how enamored I was as a child with moving vehicles. As a teenager, though, I didn’t have the “privilege” of driving a tractor,but used a hand pushed mower.

Singing Rainbows

“If all the raindrops were lemon drops and gum drops,” a song that kept running through my  head, was sung by my 17 -year- old granddaughter when she was 3. I thought I would teach my 3 year old great grandson that song, but wouldn’t you know he’s way ahead of me. My daughter sent a video of him singing the song. I’ll ask him to teach it to  me  when I see him.