For as long as I can remember, my father has been making noodle kugel – for holidays, celebrations and even just because I love it so much. Be it break the fast for Yom Kippur, Rosh Hashanah, the sweet new year, Hanukkah, the celebration of lights, or Sukkot, noodle kugel has a guaranteed place at the Packer table. Leftovers (if there are any) are not dished out to relatives, but saved to be eaten for breakfast the next day – “Katie Cakes” gets it all.
As a Jewish young woman, much of my identity stems from my interactions in and around Jewish holidays with my family. Because we aren’t highly religious, my family’s pride in our religion stems from our culture and our tight-knit family, which comes together over the dinner table. Food is the fiber of our family. So excited over pending meals, my mother and grandmother set our Jewish table for the celebration of holidays at least a week in advance. During meals, my grandparents tell stories about our ancestors, inevitably someone bickers and food, which every family member wants to contribute, is abounding. Growing up, I considered myself lucky that the majority of my family lived within a 15-minute drive. Our holiday celebrations during the year include staple dishes like matzo for Passover, honey and apples for Rosh Hashanah, and latkes for Hanukkah, but brisket, chopped liver, matzo ball soup and the kugel are always around.
The word “kugel” means pudding, not like a Jell-O, more like a bread pudding. A noodle kugel done right encompasses many different foods and the relationship between them is difficult to define, which, ironically, is reminiscent of my family. The soaked noodles are intertwined when baked, reminding me of my own family’s closeness and reliance on one another. Of Ashkenazi heritage, kugel recipes are age-old, and my family, from Eastern Europe, makes food in this style.
Noodle kugel never seemed special to me until I began attending Jewish holiday meals with friends. While some parents and grandparents make kugel with raisins and cinnamon, my father makes his with cheese. It’s sweet and dense with a crunchy top and just about the most fattening thing you could consume. Other noodle kugels don’t dare vie with my dad’s, and this is when I realized that my family is different than most. The kugel we rejoice over is unique, just like my family. I am proud to call myself a Packer and identify so intimately with my heritage. My family’s connection with food and my positive memories around the table cultivated such a passion for diverse cuisines that it shaped my collegiate career. I studied journalism and specialized in food writing. Even in my 20s, I still look forward to going home for holidays, knowing that kugel will probably be on the table.
My cultural identity, of course, is not with a kugel. It’s about what the kugel represents – family dinners around oversized tables with folding chairs to fit everyone in. Laughter and love foster joyous mealtimes. Coming together over kugel allows the current empty nests of my family and my relatives to be filled once again to celebrate Jewish holidays as well as our family. It’s a plus that the noodle kugel is out of this world!
NOODLE PUDDING SUPREME
(Dad’s Noodle Kugel)
1 lb broad noodles
4 eggs
1 lb cottage cheese
1 ½ cups sugar
½ lb Velveeta, cut in small pieces
1 ¾ cup milk
1 cup sour cream
1 tsp. Vanilla
¼ cup melted butter
A cinnamon and sugar mix
Grease 11 x 14 pan. Mix first 5 ingredients together plus ¾ cup sugar. Pour into pan. Beat eggs well, add remaining sugar, milk, and vanilla and pour over top of noodle mixture. Sprinkle top with cinnamon and sugar. Bake at 350 degrees for 1 ½ hours.
Just for laughs, my family celebrating in the late 1980's. We still celebrate like this today.
Our table today - so much food we have a buffet.
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