I was often served kugel at my
friend Vivien's house when we went
there after school.
Her mom made it faintly sweet,
with cinnamon. Very dry and crisp-
baked, so I had to gnaw through the
outer layer of baked potato shreds.
Her mom was a Polish survivor,
hidden as a child in a Catholic
convent in France, a la "Au Revoir
As an Irish Catholic, I found the
food served in their house strange,
yet blandly familiar, especially
kugel. I got blintzes when luck was
What a great family. So many fond