Back in November, The Chocolate Lady http://inmolaraan.blogspot.com/2008/11/jacob-topers-yeast-cake.html, posted a fascinating photo accompaning her blog. The photo was of a double tombstone in a cemetery on a kibbutz in Israel. The names Jacob Toper and Mina Toper are inscribed, along with their date of birth and death on the headstones. Nothing out of the ordinary there you say, but if you look at the bottom of the photo, something very out of the ordinary is present. There, inscribed in stone is a recipe for yeast buns. What, I began to wonder, was so important about those buns that these people would want the recipe inscribed on a tombstone? And what was so special about that recipe in the first place? Did it so define the Topers that it could only be shared upon their death? Indeed, is a recipe powerful enough to define a person? And if so, should a person be defined by the food he or she prepares?
I grew up in a town where the women in my mother's circle prided themselves on their baking. Each one of them had a cake that 'belonged' to them. The cakes, the flavours and textures were associated with these women. The recipes were coveted and never shared, lest two of the same cake were to, Heaven forbid, show up at the same party. It didn't take too long for me to know which cake was the mastery of which woman. To be fair, each was a work of art and a delight to the taste buds.
Alas, there was always intrigue surrounding the recipes. My mother tells the story of how one woman tried to weasel a recipe out of another. The conversation went thusly: I use 3/4 of a cup of such and such in my cake. Do you use that amount in yours? Or the dreaded, I leave my oven door open when I bake the cheese cake. Do you do that with yours? It may have taken years to acquire a secret recipe, but when it was done, it was as if someone had found the holy grail.
The whole thing always appeared quite childish to me, until I began thinking about the way my children talk about their mom's chicken soup. To them, my chicken soup is better than anyone else's. And although I know it to be correct, I also am cognizant that every child thinks his or her mother's or father's something or another is the best in the world.
I'm also reminded at how my dad used to tell my mother that by all means, she could try other chicken recipes, but he couldn't understand why she simply didn't make anything other than her Southern Fried (baked) chicken for dinner every Friday night. And I admit that I had to chuckle when my daughter said those exact words to me last Friday night as she noshed on the chicken crumbs. I think it would be neat if, one hundred years from now, my descendants might still be enjoying the recipes that had made their grandparents happy.
With all that said, I'm not quite sure that even famous chefs would want their entire life to be defined merely by one recipe a la the Topers. But food creates powerful emotions, and Mr. and Mrs. Toper must have known that. They kept that recipe theirs until their dying day. And they were smart enough not to take it with them. Now thanks to thee internet, they have kept their legacy alive for generations to come.
And speaking of yeast, stay tuned for my next posting, where I face my demons.....
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