From a new site called “I Love Jewish Food”. I was fascinated by the subject and title. Wrote this in no time.
Knish, Knish
Oh, knish, knish, dish so delic…’!
Remembrances from Pitkin Avenue.
Youthful scraps of memory I use
To fuse my Jewishness
To teenage walks those years ago.
Potato, kasha – such a taste!
Textures laced forever in the senses.
To only trace in recollection,
The impression baked ‘into the spine’
As Swedes might say
(The place I live today).
I miss the blintzes, matzoh brei
I can make blintzes, try
But they don’t taste the same.
As mommy’s cottage cheese /potato blintz of fame.
I must renew the recipe.
I loved, just loved gefilte fish –
The one my grandma made.
Sweet on tongue, dark in shade;
Pickled herring from the barrel;
Any pickled pickle – categorically un-quarreöed;
Butter bought by weight and bulk,
The bottled milk with wired cap
Mom’s fish, dry, over-baked.
My task to buy the rye and cake.
Jewish food.
Most good, but some
My youthful gums
Were not mature enough to brook:
Borscht, sour cream and buttermilk
Not yet my thing.
And yet they ring of Jewishness
Whose cling made Arlene
What and who she is.
Knisih, Kinish 4.25.2022 Circling Round Experience; Arlene Nover Corwin
Arlene Corwin Poetry 