Easter season sparks memories of Polish traditions from childhood

[media-credit id=3 align=”aligncenter” width=”300″][/media-credit]As Easter draws closer, thoughts drift back to childhood and my maternal Polish grandmother’s kitchen in Westfield, Mass.

Brilliantly white curtains, starched and ironed, hung from sparkling clean windows. The curtains had red and white crocheted edging, part of my grandmother’s handiwork.

Easter was synonymous with cleaning, so before any baking or cooing began, the house had to be scoured to a state of spotlessness.

My grandmother has been gone for several years now, but in my mind’s eye, I can see her still. In those imagines, she’s up to her elbows in flour, kneading a large wad of bread dough.

Babka, Polish sweet bread

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It’s soft, sweet and studded with yellow currants. After the bread rises in a warm oven several times, it will bake and fill the house with luscious fragrance. It’s called “babka,”and its golden brown top shines from an egg wash applied before baking.

Oh, wow, just to think about biting into a slice of warm babka, spread with sweet butter, makes my mouth water.

Also at Easter, there was always ham covered with pineapple rings and bright red maraschino cherries, kielbasa and pierogies. The latter are little turnovers of dough with different fillings.

Grandma’s hamburger, onion, sauerkraut and cabbage filling was our favorite.

She’d roll out the pierogi dough, cut circles, add the filling and then press the edges together with the tines of a fork.

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Pierogies are boiled, then fried in butter

Then the pierogies would be boiled. At first they’d sink in the big pot of boiling water. When they floated to the top, they were cooked.

Then Grandma would lift them out of the water with a slotted spoon and fry them in butter and onions.

Try as I may, I’ve never ever been able to duplicate those pierogies made by Grandma’s expert hands. So many times when I’ve placed them in the boiling water, they’ve opened up, and a big fat mess resulted.

Grandma was probably tsk-tsking from her spot in heaven.

Palm Sunday and then Easter were very holy days. Our entire family went to church to honor Christ, who had been crucified and then rose from the dead.

Meat on Fridays was a no-no

We never touched meat to our lips on Fridays in those days. Even today, Fridays during lent usually bring fish meals. Traditions die hard.

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My grandmother crocheted and sewed beautifully. She had amazing talent in her fingers and created beautiful dresser scarves, table runners, and so forth. A pineapple design is one that sticks clearly in my mind.

There were always numerous children at my grandparents’ house on the holiday, since they had 16 grandchildren. After eating, all the cousins would run outside and play in the backyard on a wooden glider swing we loved.

My grandfather also grew concord grapes, and it was fun to hide inside the shady recesses of the arch from which they hung.

Hoosier cabinet stood in kitchen

In her kitchen, my grandmother had a white Hoosier cabinet, where she kept spices, flour and so forth. If I close my eyes, I can see it as clear as day.

They command big prices nowadays. I’d love to have one, but they are way out of my price range. Grandma would get a kick out of that.

She also had a pantry with shelves where plates, cups and so forth were stored.

Isn’t it funny how decades of life can pass but images from childhood still remain so clear? It’s as if there is a video camera in our minds, recording even the tiniest details of our lives.

Whenever I drive through Westfield, my grandparents come to mind. There have been times when I’ve driven past the house where they lived, but it really makes me too sad to do it often.

Who’s the grandma now?

They are gone now, as are my parents. These days, I’m the grandmother, and that really blows my mind.

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Those formative years left their impression though. Easter is still a very spiritual holiday for me and I like going to church to honor the risen Lord.

In a very short time, I’ll also be looking in the supermarket for currants and almond slivers to add to the babka that will fill my own house with wonderful smells.

There will be a few tears of remembrance as I set the table and wait for guests which, this year, will include my first and very precious granddaughter. She’s already six months old.

My parents and grandparents and all the other relatives who have already gone to the other side will be there in spirit as new Easter memories are made for future generations.

Posted by Susan M. Wicker Guerrero on March 28, 2013. Filed under Columns,From the Heart,Opinion. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. You can leave a response or trackback to this entry