When I was a child, my Greek grandmother (“Yiayia”) would work tirelessly to care for my blind grandfather (“Papou”), keep house in their humble cottage, tend to fellow parishioners in their Greek Orthodox church, and prepare delicious but simple meals for family and friends. She did everything with few if any if our modern day conveniences, and got satisfyingly results without their benefit. In place of appliances, tools, utensils… she used her hands.
There
is a Greek expression which phonetically sounds like “Yah-sta-kheria-soo,” and
its translation in this context is “God Bless Your Hands.” For a generation
whose hands were their God-given tools… strong and durable, easily washable, and
always available… that compliment was both meaningful and appreciated. Because we must always remember what was
channeled through those hands was always an outpouring of love.
I
have found great satisfaction in using my hands for my Yiayia’s recipes. The process begins with carefully thumbing
through recipes born in her kitchen and calibrated with added measurements in
the kitchens of my mother, aunt and cousin.
Next I craft a hand-written grocery list, careful to specify brands and
characteristics of ingredients. As I
shop I handle each item with care, noting its freshness. Once home I coordinate
each item according to its place in the process, and choose appropriate pots
and pans for the final step of cooking/baking.
It’s all a very hands-on
procedure, and as a consequence it creates a certain intimacy with the
ingredients, their preparation, and the end result. Of course, as Yiayia would say, the hidden
(but most important) ingredient is always love… driving a definite intentionality
and mindfulness of the family and friends who will enjoy the meal being
prepared.
Lest
we assume this slow, deliberate process to be so anachronistic as to be headed
for the memory heap, I recently welcomed my great-niece Sydney into my kitchen
to make a favorite Greek delicacy, Baklava.
Our
hands worked together in happy harmony as I layered sheets of phyllo dough
which she basted with butter. She scooped
toasted nut mix onto the phyllo then
spread it with her hands, careful not to tear the delicate dough. The gesture was so matter-of-fact and
practical to her, yet so poignant to me.
For just a moment, in my imagination, those were my Yiayia’s hands. The wooden-handled pastry brush, the
oversized baking pan, and even the gas oven heating up behind us were Yiayia’s.
When
the finished product was ready for packaging, Sydney thought first of family
and friends. It was then that I knew the intergenerational link had been forged. Because Sydney is precisely the baker that my
Yiayia was, and her first tasters are always family and friends. Beyond my kitchen
her hands explore new recipes and interesting ingredients. They execute involved cake decorating schemes.
And they deliver blessings of kindness and taste sensation to so many grateful recipients.
To
you, Sydney, I say Yastakheriasoo! Or I
can use a more shortened version by removing the inside letters to create a
universally-known Greek affirmation… YASOO!
What a beautiful blog!!!! I am sure that no matter what Sydney makes from now on she will always think of you!!!!!
ReplyDeleteBeautifully written but you forgot to mention using your hands to deliver all those goodies to your fans (us). ��
ReplyDeleteVery nice Alexis! Didn’t actually know you were Greek. T
ReplyDeleteYou continue to shine and share your beautiful memories and family traditions.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing. You have embraced cooking and baking with all your love. Blessed to taste your special treats. Sydney is indeed carrying on the family tradition because of your handiwork. God Bless You.
Alexis, this is very nice.
ReplyDeleteOh my goodness! I wish I could just grab one. I watched my mom make them, but she never let me do the work. How wonderful to see the younger generation taking an interest. I have a hard time realizing how the years have flown by and the young ones are growing up. Bravo!
ReplyDeleteNice story….
ReplyDeleteBeautiful tribute to your grandmother......and to her granddaughter who always inspires me!❤
ReplyDeleteThank you....beautiful!
ReplyDeleteYASOO indeed!!
ReplyDeleteI loved this, I’ll be forwarding this to many others to enjoy and think about time spent cooking/baking with their loved ones.
Thanks as always for sharing.
Aww... that is so sweet !! I loved every sentence!! What memories. I hope she keeps this blog !!!
ReplyDeleteYou're the best Auntie ever!!
Gorgeous
ReplyDeleteI can taste that Baklava now and especially the sweet love that it is filled with
Thank you for sharing that heart warming lovely story of true love
Thank you for sharing your memories!
ReplyDeletePerfect and as always, beautifully written. You’ve capture the “food is love” concept, which was/is so second nature when cooking for self and others. Thank you and congratulations to Sydney, but more to you! “Yah-sta-kheria-soo!”
ReplyDeleteAlexis - What a wonderful legacy! Lovely to carry on the family traditions. And as usual you have written it so well. And I guess Sydney will be doing a lot of deliveries to friends and family just like you. So great.
ReplyDeleteGreat story. How do you pronounce your grandmother’s name? And my friend from Lebanon brought me back some baklava or something like it. I didn’t know that baklava was a specialty other than in Greece
ReplyDeleteThis is so beautiful and I can relate to it from the many hours I spent with my grandmother while she made goodies for her family. I watched her make fresh pasta and pizza (she did not call it pizza as kids that is what we called it but it was nothing like the pizza you see today) and dough for special sweets. Sometimes she would give me a piece of dough to work with and have fun while she crafted the most wonderful pasta in so many forms. She never used a recipe it was all in her head and in her hands. She worked on a wooden board with three raised sides that were about 6 inches high and one side was open and flat with the table. This was so the flour and whatever she was rolling would not fly off the work area. She also used a thin type rolling pin. My grandfather made both those things for her. My mother said the so called rolling pin was probably made from a broom handle. Long after my grandmother died I found out that my aunt had the board as we called it and the rolling pin. I asked if I could have it and she gave it to me. Unfortunately the wood had warped and had a musty odor since my aunt kept it in her garage. After trying to dry it out I knew I had to discard it but the rolling pin was fine. I still have it. And I wear my grandmother’s wedding ring every day. It is a thin gold band and I can barely see where my grandparent’s names are inscribed with the date of 1914. My grandmother was very special to me.
ReplyDeleteHow wonderful that you can recreate that tradition of preparing special Greek foods with your great niece. And there is nothing better than a dessert of baklava. Sidney must be a very special young woman and she is very fortunate to have you as her teacher.
Great to hear from you. Where has the time gone.
ReplyDeleteYou continue to shine and share your beautiful memories and family traditions.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing. You have embraced cooking and baking with all your love. Blessed to taste your special treats. Sydney is indeed carrying on the family tradition because of your handiwork. God Bless You.
Thank you for the glimpse into your special day with your great-niece. She looks lovely and has great hair. And the baklava makes my mouth water. There are two desserts that are on the top of my list; one is a really good Napoleon and the other is real baklava. Getting good versions of both are not easy.
ReplyDeleteSydney’s a lucky girl to have you as her Auntie, it’s not every day that you have the opportunity to make such a special family recipe together. This will be a lasting memory, one she will pass on to her niece or nephew in the future.
ReplyDeleteSuch a lovely story luckie. YiaYia would have loved knowing her great grandchildren. She certainly was looking over Sydney’s shoulders with much love and direction. What a wonderful memory for you as well.....
ReplyDeleteLove it! Yasoo!
ReplyDeleteXoxoox M
Alexis, I loved this! It reminded me of a similar expression in Arabic: "Se lem di athic," " God save your hands." It was always said to the "chef," after a wonderful home made meal.
ReplyDeleteThis was great Auntie thank you! ❤️
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing. I love the inter generational connection made by your family’s loving hands.
ReplyDeleteYou can feel the love when using your hands. It makes everything better
ReplyDelete