Food Blog

The Hitz We Miss


Eva’s Grandmother “Jocie” circa 1944.


Gertz Girlz Lisa and Eva have been ramping up college campus visits these days, while Lisa and Dee scratch their heads, wondering how we got to Eva’s senior year so fast. Rites of passage are part and parcel of a child’s journey into adulthood, and while for teens it’s all about tomorrow, we adults find ourselves yearning for yesterday. With little birdie Eva preparing to fly the nest and meet her future, Lisa and Dee have been reflecting on past family meals. For example, how many times have you heard someone say, I tried a recipe and it was a big hit. Those hit recipes often go on to become legendary, highly anticipated year after year, and ideally preserved in the family archives. So much of what is placed on the family table ends up more in our hearts than in our stomachs.

Gertz Girl LisaLisa Sez:

My mother, born Marie-Jocelyne Francoise Cardinal, is affectionately known by one and all (including her grandchildren) as Jocie. She has a 100% French-Canadian family and culinary background and is a wonderful cook. So my three siblings and I, and my father, were pretty lucky. It wasn’t till my young world opened up a bit though, and I started to venture outside my own family table, that I began to realize and appreciate her cooking skills. A mother of the 1960’s and 70’s, with a large family to feed three times a day, Jocie stuck to the basics like most women of that era. She cooked the middle-class favorites, but she cooked them really well. Her homemade (everything was homemade back then) spaghetti and meatballs were so good, I remember a neighbor boy who had eaten them once, and then tried to wrangle a dinner invitation when I told him that’s what we were having!

Gertz Girl DeeDee Sez:

When I was 14, my mother went to work full time. Luckily her job was only a five minute drive away so she was able to keep close tabs on her latchkey daughter, now responsible for watching out for two younger brothers (and not very well, but that’s another story). Weekly food shopping was always on Thursdays after work, and dinner was always a Swanson aluminum tray with turkey, stuffing, wrinkly mixed vegetables, and a spongy (i.e., strange) cherry cobbler. I didn’t mind at first, but she became dependent on these meals and who can blame her? If we all loved to make a home cooked meal night after night, after eight hours of work day after day, there wouldn’t be a need for Blue Apron and the like.

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Yep, this is the one. Yuck! And all for just 99 cents!

Frozen dinners are not something I miss, but at some point, and perhaps to assuage her guilt, my mother began making special birthday meals and we got to choose whatever we wanted. My brother Stu always chose Veal or Chicken Parm, and both were wonderful (I have since stopped eating veal for ethical reasons). My go-to was roast beef with mushroom gravy, mashed potatoes, creamed corn and pita bread, sliced in halves lengthwise, and generously buttered and broiled until bubbly and slightly browned around the edges. All bow to the Carb Queen!

Gertz Girl LisaLisa Sez:

Even though my siblings and I are all in our 50’s now, we can all easily recall what our favorite “Jocie” dinners were when we were kids. I sent a poll via text for the purpose of this blog post, and literally got a reply within minutes from all of them. Mike was all over her American Chop Suey. For Jim, it was her Chicken Cordon Blue. But there’s always a Fussy One in every family…in this case it was my sister Lynn, who wryly informed me she was never a member of The Clean Plate Club. Apparently she only liked roast pork and only if it was well done! No wonder she was the skinny one!  My dad who passed away almost twenty years ago, made no secret of the fact that he loved his wife’s New England Boiled Dinner (always served on a Sunday).

As for me, I adored my mother’s French-Canadian version of Irish Stew…ground beef, tiny diced potatoes and carrots, and peas in a fragrant beef broth. I remember spending an entire summer day playing outside, and coming in to eat dinner (which was only ever called “Supper”). The stew was already ladled into the light green, small bowls that we children ate out of…four of them lined up on the windowsill to cool, the steam visible to our hungry little eyes. And always, always, always…. there was bread and butter on the table. Because if it has gravy, you need to SOP it up!

Josie’s version of French-Canadian Irish Stew, courtesy of Lisa Gertz.

Gertz Girl DeeDee Sez:

In addition to the gravy aspect (agree with you Lisa on the sopping with bread!) I loved the roast beef meal because it reminded me of the Sunday afternoon dinners at Nanny and Pop’s house when we lived in Maryland. They were my maternal grandparents and lived in a row house in Baltimore. I loved being in that urban environment, loved the smells, loved playing with my cousins in the small back yard, adjacent to the alley where we would kick a can around. Really! It was fun! And I loved the food. Unadorned, savory, hearty. After dinner I would sneak upstairs to tap out bad poetry on Pop’s typewriter, which now sits on the filing cabinet in my office.

Many a bad poem was tapped out on this machine!

We would also have broiled pita as an accompaniment to beef fondue, which may have been my brother Richie’s birthday meal. It was also an occasional weekend dinner treat (this was the 70s, and fondue was all the rage). The pita was easy to replicate, but over the years I have tried to make a gravy that comes close to the savory stuff I would pour to pool into the well of my mashed potatoes. I’ve made the occasional roast, but my attempt at gravy, well, let’s just say I’m no Gravy Master. Another favorite involving gravy was her Salisbury steak. Recently, in an effort to find something else to do with hamburgers, I came across a recipe online and guess what? It was just like my mother used to make. I’ve made it twice in two weeks and will be ballooning to a new pant size soon 😉

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Salisbury Steak and an attempt at healthy eating.

Gertz Girl EvaEva Sez:

I love to hear about my mother’s childhood memories and one of my favorites is of when my grandmother Jocie was making meatballs and she let her kids help her. My Uncle Mike was about 6 and he decided to throw a meatball into the air to catch it…apparently he never caught it because it STUCK TO THE CEILING!! I can imagine how funny that would be and my mom said it resulted in a fit of giggles!

Gertz Girl LisaLisa Sez:

And a permanent round grease spot on the ceiling as a souvenir of that moment! As time goes on we try to replicate some of the Hitz We Miss, and we add to them too, creating an ever-evolving list of favorite dishes, some of which get passed down to become current “Hitz.”

Gertz Girl EvaEva Sez:

One of my favorites is my mother’s No Fail Chicken Casserole.



Gertz Girl LisaLisa Sez:

Which was one of MY mother’s recipes and it is loved by all who ate it. Credit goes to our family friend Cheryl Menino who I believe first gave it to my mom in the early 80’s. How can you go wrong with chicken, cheese, wine, and a can of good ol’ Campbells condensed Cream of Whatever soup? It’s easy and delicious and it feeds a crowd. This is one where you need to keep copies of the recipe around because you just know a friend is going to ask for it during dinner.

Gertz Girl EvaEva Sez:

I just thought of two more favorites. My mother’s Chicken & Red Sauce over Couscous is amazing. I also loved my Papa’s Meatloaf…nobody could make meatloaf like Papa.


Papa’s Veggie Meatloaf (ketchup is a vegetable!).

Gertz Girl LisaLisa Sez:

Except now we have his recipe and you will get it on a regular basis (at least until you go off to college!)

Gertz Girl DeeDee Sez:

Growing up, my father (Eva’s Papa) didn’t cook, but in our teens, he developed an interest in trying his hand at the stove. The big fail of family legend was his idea to save time by mashing potatoes in the blender. The result was an inedible grayish goo and a lot of laughs and ribbing. But his Chicken Cacciatore over linguine was a huge hit. Richie would sneak downstairs in the middle of the night to steal leftovers, which would inspire huge fights the next day. Dad’s other signature dish was chili con carne, but it’s the cacciatore that will live on in my memories. Jerry Gertz’s Chicken Cacciatore

There are so many dishes that I miss, but mostly I miss the days of youth and the dinners that brought us together and defined us as a family.

Gertz Girlz Final Dish:

It’s another wonderful rite of passage that one of the things you look forward to when you come home during college breaks are…The Hitz You Missed! Here’s to keeping the good ones in the rotation and creating new Hitz for future generations!


Food Blog, Uncategorized

A Bittersweet Passover

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Rachel, Jerry, Sonia and Bubbie Rose, circa 1940


The Passover Seder, a ritual feast celebrating the liberation of Hebrew slaves from Egyptian bondage, includes a seder plate with symbolic elements of the bitter and the sweet, such as bitter herbs and sweet charoses. For the Gertz family, Passover 2018 was bittersweet because it marked two years since our final Passover with matriarch and patriarch Fran and Jerry.

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Seder Plate from our Passover Haggadah

In the spring of 2016, Fran was at the final stage of a 20 year devastating struggle with Alzheimer’s, and by the end of that summer a seizure would put her into the Salem Haven long term care facility, specifically on the third and final floor, where the next level up is heaven (she passed in January 2017). Passover was less ritual and more family get together by now, the seder having been reduced to the Four Questions and a couple of quick prayers. But the wine flowed and the food was plentiful, as was the case with every Gertz gathering.

Fran and Jerry, 2009

Whereas past dinners were strictly Fran’s dominion, the meal was now prepared potluck. Jerry got non-traditional with barbecued brisket, tenderized into submission in a slow cooker; he also contributed matzoh kugel, courtesy of his sister Sonia’s recipe; Lisa added her panache to Sonia’s gefilte fish casserole; Dee made sure her matzoh balls were as light and fluffy as Fran’s. We filled in the rest with easy veggie sides and finished with chocolate macaroons and fresh fruit.

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Matzoh Ball Soup, one of the last times it was made by Fran. Passover 2006

By the time Passover rolled around last year, Jerry had become rapidly weak from a cancer that had come on unexpectedly and strong. He was certainly too sick to host a seder, let alone contribute to the meal, but he had also lost interest: when the offer was made to hold the seder at Dee’s house, Jerry turned it down. So the holiday passed over the Gertz family without food or fanfare, and Jerry passed away on Memorial Day.

Gertz Girl DeeDee Sez:

I’m what you might call a bad Jew. Having grown up in Baltimore with a Jewish father and shiksa mother, I tended to gravitate toward the side that offered Easter baskets and Christmas trees. My father’s mother Rachel was Orthodox, and every Friday evening the family gathered at her house for the Shabbat dinner, always kosher of course (dairy and meat were offered as either/or, and at a tender age it baffled me). After dinner I was occasionally left behind to spend the night in order to accompany her to shul the next morning. Thinking back, this may have been an intervention.

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Rachel, Dee (future Bad Jew) and Fran.                               What girl could resist this bling?

Growing up, Passover seders were also held at Rachel’s and were reverential and full-blown. My memories are an amalgam of mostly yawning tedium, but one day it was finally my turn to read the Four Questions, an honor bestowed upon the youngest member of the tribe. I remember feeling happy that I had something to do besides sit, fidget and starve, but also proud because I could show off my newly acquired reading skills. Unfortunately, that was the extent of my interest in the seder; afterward I went back to daydreaming about the Easter egg hunt with my shiksa clan while Hebrew prayers droned in the background. Bad little Jew.

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Dee in her Easter dress with bunny, circa 1966.

When I was nine, we moved from Baltimore to Burlington, MA and, freed from my grandmother’s orthodoxy, I have, over the years, participated in our family seders with joking irreverence. This had to drive my father crazy but he never said so, which I attribute to the calming resignation that comes after a few glasses of Concord Grape Manischewitz, a super sweet wine with dubious consequences, as shown below.

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Stu Gertz after a few too many glasses of the sweet stuff. Passover 2006

Having said this, I always read the Four Questions, in Hebrew, with respect. And every Passover, just like sitting to my father’s left at the dinner table, that particular reading was understood to be mine.

So here it is 2018, I have ascended to matriarch, and the perspective, the vantage point, is suddenly loftier. All I can think, as I watch The Ten Commandments for the umpteenth time, is that I now have an important job to do. Something as sacred as a bad Jew with years of questionable religious karma can muster: I must pay homage to the past with a modicum of reverence.

Hosting this year’s seder at my home is a given, the rest is a journey of faith, less religion than rediscovery; a test to see how much Judaism actually sank in over the years. I start with my grandmother’s sabbath candelabra, willed to me many years before and relegated to a big Filene’s bag, tarnished and dusty in my father’s garage. Given that Rachel kept it proudly displayed and protected in plastic, its sad state is a testament to my transgression and the first step toward redemption: I must restore it to its rightful glory.

Before and After: Rachel’s Candelabra. A labor of love with the help of TarnX and metal polish.

Next, I must locate Rachel’s Crest Wood china, handed down to my parents, then to me. At this point I have lost track of these dishes after several moves forced me to stash things hither and yon, but pray they miraculously made it to my basement after we cleaned out and moved boxes from my parent’s house for the final time last summer.

From a mountain of boxes I miraculously locate them quickly, transporting them up to the kitchen for a wash and dry. I then locate my mother’s delicate crystal stemware, to be gently removed from newsprint and oh-so-carefully cleaned. The last cleaning task is to shine up my parent’s flatware, a wedding gift from 1957.

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Fran’s Passover table circa 1993. Rachel’s candelabra can be see in the background.

The biggest hurdle toward redemption is the hardest: the seder itself. Jerry always took us through the Haggadah, and I’m not sure it was the same year after year (drinking was going on after all). So I decide to actually read the book, design a seder based on its relevance to us as a family and where everyone had a part to play.

Dee holding the family Haggadah, Passover 2018.

Stu read the Kiddush, a prayer over the wine; Eva, our youngest member read the Four Questions; and in true Bad Jew fashion I can’t remember what the rest of us read; my design notes have since disappeared. But I will say that the past was with us that day, it was a longer seder than Jerry’s ever was (though not as long as Rachel’s), and I shed a few tears along the way. Hopefully that counts.

Gertz Girl LisaLisa Sez:

So the gig is up and now you know… the Gertz Girlz are part Jewish and part shiksa. I grew up in a Catholic family (half French-half Irish). And of all the holidays, Easter was my least favorite. Perhaps it was the lightweight cotton dresses and our bare legs only covered by thin lace ankle socks with Mary Janes, when the temps were still in the 40’s. Perhaps it was the long church homily and the incense that made me nauseous. It could have been that the traditional Easter dinner of ham, potatoes, etcetera, was something we ate every few weeks anyway. It wasn’t my mother’s fault that’s for sure. She went all-out playing the Easter Bunny with treat-loaded baskets, and even made her own chocolates one year. I was just “meh” about Easter.

So when Easter and Passover fell on the same Sunday this year, it was a no-brainer which one I would choose to celebrate. Some of my fondest memories of “becoming a Gertz” were the beautiful Seders that my in-laws put on. They are warm family memories, with food and ritual that was unique to Passover and therefore very special. It helped that they were delicious meals, too.

I looked forward to this Passover for many reasons. We needed to be together as a family, having lost both the matriarch and the patriarch Fran and Jerry in the last year. We needed to heal with food. And we needed to know that tradition would continue. There was only one person who could pull that off and it was Dee. And she did it with STYLE!

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Dee’s Passover table, April 2018

I got the head’s up phone call weeks before Passover. She was going to create a beautiful Passover and she gave me my assignments: The Charoset. The Gefilte Fish Casserole. The Matzoh Toffee. I was tickled Manischewitz pink.

I used Sonia’s recipe to make the Gefilte Fish Casserole. This was one of my favorite dishes of our Passover dinners, and I had begged Franny for the recipe 18 years ago. She had always served it as an appetizer, cut into small, delicate quiche-like squares. I’m always so happy cooking this dish, and I actually hope for leftovers so I can enjoy it all week long.

Lisa’s version of Sonia’s Gefilte Fish Casserole.

The matzoh toffee is something I’ve been making for the past 15 years at Hannukah, and I decided to create a real variety of toppings for this special Seder. It was fun and made a pretty snazzy presentation plate!

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Lisa’s Matzoh Toffee in a variety of flavors!

I was most intrigued with the making of Charoset. I couldn’t recall If we had it during past Seders…perhaps it had appeared at table in a very small plate and only as a symbolic gesture. So I decided to research and create a real side dish of Charoset. Because “Jewish food” essentially exists in almost every corner of the earth…this was where some creativity was allowed.

Lisa’s Charoset, Passover 2018

The Charoset’s color and texture are meant to represent mortar or mud used to make adobe bricks which the Israelites used as slaves in Egypt. Depending on what part of the world it’s being made, the fruit and nuts can obviously differ. Since we are in New England, I went with the locally sourced choice and created a dish with apples from a local farm, chopped walnuts, New Hampshire maple syrup and apple cider, and cinnamon.

I was almost speechless when we arrived for Seder. I had never dreamed we would again see a replica of what Fran and Jerry Gertz had created for their family at Passover. But Dee had commanded the helm, and boy did she bring the ship into port. It was a beautiful sight to behold – the polished silver, the crystal glasses, the heirloom dishes, the ironed cloth napkins and tablecloth, the aromas.

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The past is present in Rachel’s china and Fran and Jerry’s crystal and flatware.

The brisket, the matzoh ball soup in a tureen, the kugel, the salad, the flowers.  It was an incredible amount of effort and such a colossal show of love to her family, both deceased and living, that I will never forget it. We will always be grateful to this incredible Gertz Girl for what she gave us that day.

Potato Kugel, Gefilte Fish Casserole, Charoset. Eva and Matzoh Ball Soup

Gertz Girl DeeDee Sez:

Did I mention I got kicked out of Hebrew School?!

Gertz Girl EvaEva Sez:

Haha! After this last Passover Auntie Dee, I think you’re forgiven!

What I remember most about going to my Gaga and Papa’s house was that it always smelled good there. Even if nothing was cooking, it just smelled so good there. And as the only grandchild, the best part of Passover was that I was the only one who got to hunt for the Afikomen!

Eva finds the Afikomen and gets the gelt, Passover 2006

Papa was always busy in the kitchen with his trademark cook’s apron on. But he would always stop what he was doing and remind me to look for the treasure.  After a couple of years, I realized that Papa always hid it in the same place – under the center cushion of the sofa.  I caught on but still tried to pretend to look for it in different places first. This makes all of us laugh. We never did find out if he realized he did that…was it his own quirky brand of humor or just a 10 year coincidence? We will never know but it’s a fun memory. Eventually, like Aunt Dee, I also enjoyed getting to read the Four Questions as the youngest of the tribe.

Eva with her mom Lisa and her dad Stu.

Losing Papa and Gaga has taught me the importance of family and I love my Aunt Dee for bringing us all together.

Gertz Girlz Final Dish:

In the end, we have to agree with Tevye ….”Traditions, Traditions. Without our traditions our lives would be as shaky as, as….as a fiddler on the roof!”