Anyu

07/15/2022

This is about food, love and Anyu.

Growing up in the home of Holocaust Survivors, Bob and I always understood that food was the center stage of our growing up lives.

In my house, the food was mostly okay, and mealtimes for two working parents was mostly haphazard. A steak was cooked until it was dead, and most of everything else was an interesting brown color; it was always plentiful. My parents worked long tiring hours so we rarely had guests at our table.

My mom made the best potato kugel, a recipe still used by every single one of our children and grandchildren. Her chicken cookies(fried chicken cutlets) were deliciously hot and crispy; close friends called her Baba Chicken Cookie.

This was not the case with my mother in law, Edith, Anyu, Deutsch. ע״ה. She loved to cook and entertain; it became her passion and her joy.

My mother in law would share stories of going to the fruit store after the war and being in awe of the plenty to be found. She especially loved the bright colored oranges. She never got over the fact that you could buy whatever your heart desired; there were so many choices.

In Israel the joy of having every kosher possibility wherever you go, makes for very interesting comparisons and conversations. With so many options, notwithstanding the kashrut labels now complicated by shmitta(the 7 year resting of the land), it is no wonder that most meetings, parties and visits are held in restaurants with food of every color and flavor.

For the past several summers, we have been staying in an apartment in what was once a luxury Jerusalem hotel. We get the amenities of having a hotel room but no breakfasts. It’s not a bad deal and we love the fun of living a life without household chores.

This year, the management messed with our reservation and in an effort to make it right, they offered us 12 breakfasts for two people.

Breakfast is my favorite meal but the smorgasbord of offerings, waffles, any kind of eggs and breads, fruits, vegetables, cakes can sometimes be too much and overwhelming.

After a few days, one begins to take it for granted, too much and unappreciated; a ‘no no’ in my family.

We were never permitted to take food for granted.

The other morning while minding my business and not really enjoying my sunny side up eggs, Betza Ayin, a woman with a thick Australian accent approached me and demanded to know where I got “ those kinds of eggs”? “I just want a plain egg like you are eating”, she lamented. “I can’t eat this fancy food another day!”

It had become too much.

This coming shabbos is Edith ‘Anyu’ Deutsch’s, first yahrzeit. It is still so hard for anyone in our family, actually anyone who knew her and by definition loved her, to believe that this powerful force of nature is gone. Because this is a leap year, her yahrzeit is marked 13 months after her passing.

We needed that extra month to mourn and process that she is not at our smaichot or available for a quick phone call.

How does one mark a family milestone? Anyu’s yahrzeit falls on 17 Tammuz, a fast day, and for a person who never got over her starvation in the camps, spent her whole life feeding people and savoring the food shopping experience, this is an oxymoron.

From the time I was introduced to the Deutsch family, this is how I was always greeted by Anyu: a warm smiling hello, a bear hug, and a table filled with every kind of specially purchased food for each person eating at her table.

If that person was a diabetic or gluten free, she would have “ sugar free muffins for Moish” and shkepoing “wheat free options” to Toronto for Meredith.

“I’m so excited that you are here; come see what I have prepared for you.” I do not recall a time, be it when she was well or feeling low, that a scrumptious feast would not be waiting for any one of us or someone she thought was hungry.

Of course during the entirety of the meal, the food intake would be monitored to ensure that enough of the choices were on your plate, tasted and enjoyed with gusto. Food was Anyu’s language of love; she spread that love to every single person she ever met and especially to her precious family.

”Eat mamale/tatale eat!” Anyu grew up in Hungary, did not speak a word of Yiddish, but these were the words she always used to encourage someone to enjoy her lovingly prepared meal.

After any Anyu feast, if there were any leftovers and of course there always were, she would pack them up and distribute them to the widows and maintenance men in the building where she lived; “they could use a good meal and to be remembered,” she would say.

Anyu had designated containers with random people’s names written on them for repurposing leftover food. “Don’t mix those up,” she would say, “who knows what they used to clean them.”

Young and old alike were invited to join her table; when she met someone she knew or had just been introduced to, five minutes into the conversation they would be invited for a meal. There was always enough food to feed an army at her table.

People would sometimes meet her in the street or even knock at her door; she would often turn to us in confusion. “Who are they?” They had been her guest, eaten at her table or were friends of her grandchildren or great grandchildren. They were stopping by to say hello.

It did not matter to her that she had no clue who they were. Anyu was happy in the knowledge that she was remembered and that they had a good time eating at her table; her mission and her joy.

It’s ironic that her first Yahrzeit is a fast day; reflecting about it, I realize how much sense that made. Thinking about past conversations I’ve had waiting for a fast to be over, I realize that all the talk centers on food. Planning our post fast meal consumes us; the food that we will eat, feeling thirsty and a shared longing for what we would eat right now!

In our family when we talk about food, we remember Anyu and her larger than life personality, love of people(especially her grandchildren, great grandchildren and great great grandchild), and appreciation for a second post Holocaust chance at life.

Most of all, we remember her delicious food and the beautiful table filled with love and laughter.

Walking in the ‘familiar Friday’ shuck today, I could not help but think how much pleasure she would enjoy in the abundance of offerings: nuts, spices, candies, cakes, breads, and the vibrant and colorful fruits and vegetables. Her shopping cart would be spilling over with the ingredients that she would turn into yet another sumptuous feast for family, friends, maintenance workers, widows and strangers.

Yes, that’s the way it would be!

Sometimes you need to have famine before feast in order to better appreciate what you have lost. We miss you our beloved Anyu; may her neshama have an alyah.

Wishing all who are fasting an easy fast Betza Ayin, sunny side up!

Shabbat Shalom from Israel.