Flavor and fragrance both have the power to bring the fondest memories to the forefront of our minds. With delight, we present our readers’ recollections of the most mouthwatering recipes to ever grace their tables, whether presented from the inspiration of a favorite chef or the pages of a family cookbook.
Although I adore preparing food for friends and family, and do so often, my signature dish is not fancy or labor-intensive. It is simply a Caesar salad.
When I was young, my parents, who were also avid home chefs, set me to the task of preparing the salad dressing. They had a specific recipe, written out on a food-stained card, and I followed it religiously. Our Caesar salads were legendary.
Today, I follow the same recipe, now engraved in my brain, and my three daughters have always clamored for it. Guests and extended family also rave about the simple but tasty salad we prepare. One by one, my girls are setting up their own lives and kitchens, and when they leave the nest, I present them with a copy of Irma S. Rombauer’s The Joy of Cooking—with a little handwritten recipe card tucked in the front. Our “famous” Caesar salad dressing recipe is now a family heirloom.
LISHA VAN NIEUWENHOVE
Uxbridge, Ontario, Canada
Years ago, when my grandmother used to visit us, she would bring her homemade Greek cookie called kourabiedes: somewhat similar to a Russian tea cake. Drenched in cloves and dusted with powdered sugar, these delicate little balls of butter and flour melt in one’s mouth and always accompany coffee time and a bit of gossip—the kindly sort. My grandmother came from a little Aegean island called Ikaria, where people had to walk miles to buy cloves, made butter from their cows, and grew their own wheat, which my grandmother used to grind by hand with the old hand-operated millstone. Her community lived the same way from the reign of Queen Victoria until the 1990s, when roads were finally cut into the craggy mountain range. Even then, the delicacies of the island never changed. The kourabiedes recipe is a testimony to that. I’ve baked this cookie every Christmas and Easter for my family, and now my daughters carry on the tradition. There are some things civilization simply cannot improve upon: One is love; the other is a great cookie recipe.
DIANNA LEFAS
Cairo, New York
Years ago, while living in Lansdale, Pennsylvania, I had the pleasure of living in a neighborhood populated with many frequently relocating corporate and military families. The clever wives were experts in making home and friends in a new place. From creating social events and swapping recipes to watching one another’s children in an emergency, these organized, kind women were helpful and quick to bond.
When I was laid low from a surgery and struggling to care for my two active little boys, it was my turn to need aid. A “meal train” was organized, with food delivered to us every night for a month. Although all were delicious and lovingly prepared, the dish that stands out was the Get Well Creamy Chicken Noodle Soup. Made with milk and the dumpling style noodles popular in Pennsylvania, it was rich, thick, and healthy with chopped vegetables and chicken.
In the years since, I still bless those women for their grace and kindness, thinking of them warmly whenever I make that soup and share the recipe, which I have continued to do for friends and neighbors anytime there is need.
JANET GRAY
Denver, Colorado
When I was nine, my family moved from landlocked Indianapolis, Indiana, to live with my grandparents in Baltimore, Maryland. A culinary ingredient that had once been an occasional treat during my summer visits with them became a regular addition to my new life just north of the Chesapeake Bay: the Maryland blue crab.
After I married, I began to explore new uses for this favorite seafood. One December, my new husband and I attended an office holiday party. A waiter brought out an ornamental silver chafing dish full of a beautifully creamy, golden-tinted concoction. Picking up a small plate and crostini, I scooped up a small mound of the mystery dish and took a bite. Ambrosia—otherwise known as Cream of Crab Dip.
Only a lifetime of training in good manners prevented me from dipping out a soup bowl of the delight and making it my appetizer, entrée, and dessert. When I returned home that night, I was determined to learn how to replicate the dip.
Now, this was before the Internet, and outside of calling the kitchen of the establishment that served it, my only recourse was to look through my small library of cookbooks. To no avail. But the cooking section of The Baltimore Sun had a wonderful feature called “Recipe Finder.” Of course, I asked them to find me a recipe for that crab dip!
Several weeks later, I was thrilled to see a response to my plea. I was blessed with not one but four different recipes from which to choose. After experimenting with my favorite ingredients from each, I developed what has become my signature Cream of Crab Dip. I’ve taken the dish to office parties, family gatherings, and church potlucks. My recipe was even included in a local cookbook published by Maryland Public Television.
Nowadays I only serve the dip on holidays and special occasions—one of those being an intimate family gathering we call “appetizer night.” My one rule is that it must always, always use Maryland crabmeat.
SIERRA VEALE
Baltimore, Maryland
Two generations ago, my relatives emigrated from Eastern Europe. Our heritage was a focal part of holiday celebrations, and each year my paternal grandmother made the traditional Slovak Easter meatloaf: a dish served cold along with an array of breads, pastries, ham, and kielbasa. After her passing, my father asked my mother if she could continue the tradition, but we lacked a written recipe. As he and his sisters recalled, the process involved slowly braising cuts of veal and pork with an array of aromatics until the meat was very tender. Then it was hand-cranked through a meat grinder, combined with eggs, butter, and crushed saltines to a pâté-like consistency. The mixture was then pressed into loaf pans, baked, cooled, and served sliced like a terrine on Easter morning. Within only two attempts, my father happily declared that my mother had nailed it! Witnessing this as a 12-year-old girl gave me a deep respect for tradition, and I insisted my mother write down the recipe so it would never be lost. Every Easter, I still proudly reach for the treasured recipe, lovingly penned in her handwriting. Never to be lost again, this recipe and others are now preserved in a cookbook I created for my children. And, like me, they look forward to savoring it every Easter. I am confident it will be passed on to the next generation.
JANET TAMBURRO
New Holland, Pennsylvania
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