SAN DIEGO, Calif.— In My Mother’s Kitchen is a wonderfully warm collection of personal stories by 26 well known individuals connected by one common bond; the memories and experiences of earlier generations, as reflected and expressed in the world of food.  

We know most of the authors primarily for their contributions to the ever-growing mass of new cookbooks and restaurants.  I already knew a few of these persons.  For example, Walter Staib is the highly acclaimed chef and owner of the historic City Tavern restaurant in Philadelphia , an eatery so well known that Staib, who was born in Germany , has been named the “Culinary Ambassador to the City of Philadelphia ."   I had the pleasure of dining there once, and it was truly superb.  

Another person with a strong name identity is Lega Nargi, an author and freelance journalist who writes extensively about food, travel and knitting.  Her essays and memoirs appear in numerous journals, magazines and anthologies.  I think the names of Jacques Pepin and Maya Angelou (listed as the author of this book) need no introduction. I especially enjoyed Ms. Angelou’s story “The Assurance of Caramel Cake," in which she relates how southern black women always looked forward to the quilting bees; their only non-labor, non-religious social gathering, at which they could  pass on ‘information’ about friends. Each participant in the bee gained entrance by bringing their favorite dessert.

The three stories I found  particularly interesting were those of Ruth Reichl, M.F.K. Fisher and Harriet Rocklin.   Reichl became editor-in-chief of Gourmet magazine in 1999. Prior to that date she was restaurant critic for The New York Times; I always looked forward to her column.  Reichl has received many honors and awards over the years, among them are three James Beard Awards (two for restaurant criticism, and one for journalism).  For me, however, one of her most important works was published in 2000, The Measure of Her Powers: An M.F.K. Fisher Reader.  

Mary Frances Kennedy Fisher, usually called MF by close friends and husbands (all three), led a life worthy of a movie.  The outlines of Fisher’s life are well known, both from her own writings, (Serve it forth from 1937 and Last House, published posthumously in 1995), as well as from the memoirs of others.  She was thought of as a socialite and free spirit, who traveled the globe and resided in various ideal settings in four countries.  

Fisher came from a very literate family and was married three times to very intellectual and creative men.  They were drawn by her beauty and then catered to her needs.  Her first husband was Alfred Young Fisher, a well-regarded poet and professor, who referred to his separation from MF in a Sonnet:  “Those who once loved, by mutation…come to find themselves unrecognizable."  Dillwyn Parrish was husband number two, Timmy, as he was called, left his wife Gigi in 1939 and married MF. He considered himself an artist, but his real claim to fame, other than being married to Fisher, was being a close relative to Maxfield Parrish, one of the great illustrators at the turn of the twentieth century.  (Think of: The Arabian Nights, Eugene Field’s Poems of Childhood (1904) and Frank Baum’s Mother Goose in Prose (1897).  His illustrations are now part of many fine art collections and are prized by collectors.  The last  husband was Donald Friede, who wrote “On Being Married to M.F.K. Fisher”.  MF finally left him as well, and moved out on her own.

I found the story by Harriet Rocklin to be the most compelling; and one, which I identified with in a strange way.  Rocklin, as some of you may recall, has written extensively on Jewish Pioneers of the Early West.  In her story, she relates her own experiences upon visiting “My Mother-in-Law’s Kitchen” located in a small town along the Mexican border called Ambos Nogales.  From the opening Rocklin describes the setting in a manner that I could almost sense, even identity with, the “smells, tastes sights and sounds” of the kitchen.  

My senses absorbed the cultural mix of American, Jewish and Mexican cuisine, but in a different way. The experience was similar to our own family’s move to Southern California in 1947.  The American-Jewish component was always there form the start due to my mother’s eastern European background in food. We, however, had to learn to integrate the Mexican flavors and dishes—foods, that I fell in love with instantly and still do today.  Rocklin describes a Mexican meal at her mother-in-law’s table with the infusion of such traditional Jewish dishes as: chopped herring and chopped liver,  chicken soup, blintzes, knishes and holiskes (cabbage rolls). 

Unfortunately for them, there was no Luckshen Kugel? For my family, this is the dish which is tradition laden from past generations.  Not only the recipe has been passed on for four generations but the stories as well.  My mother was a fine cook.  Her mother, however, was a great chef  given the standards of the early twentieth century in Minneapolis , Minnesota . She had a following throughout the city and was justly proud.  The messenger was the telephone, which also kept her abreast of community news. Mom’s kitchen was neat and tidy,  Grandma Silver’s was shlumberdik.  Strong aromas wafted up from an old four legged stove and no two pans were alike;  there were little tchotchkies  everywhere. 

Rachel's and my daughter Kelly invited me out to lunch yesterday and took an interest in this article. After we sat down, she commenced to relate some of her own food memories from childhood. She later sent them to me in an e-mail:

“Dad, for me the smells wafting outside and through our home held a special significance; I was always welcomed simply by the scent of your cooking, the wonderful family recipes from your mother’s side of the family and stories which often accompanied them.  In a funny way, it’s like a secret code, which welcomes certain family and friends to partake of our family food traditions. When you started to teach me, I jumped right in.  You were welcoming me to your family’s traditions with food. Now it takes only a slight whiff to create great memories; I love it. I remember when I was younger and helped you with the cooking for large affairs. Cooking our Luckshen Kugel was a special experience. We used very large pots and I had to stand on a stool to get my hands and arms up to my elbows, just to mix it up; you always made me wash like a surgeon, both before and after.  Preparing this Kugel became a sort of bond between us, a story I will pass on to my children.  Thank you."

If you'd care to enjoy similar memories from some wonderful writers, I highly recommend this wonderful book.