Food is such a marvelous memory trigger. Don’t you agree? Beef stew makes me think of my Mom. Hard-boiled eggs make me think of my Dad. Anything pickled reminds me of my brother Zack. Spicy chicken wings make me think of my brother Nick. Boiled carrots and red potatoes make me think of my Grandma. The person I seem to have the most food memories tied to is my Dziadzia (pronounced jah-jah). Grandpa in Polish. When we had Sunday dinners at his house, there would be whole roasted chickens, or what us kids so fondly refer to as “butter chicken.” There was sauerkraut, lazy pierogies, regular pierogies, cabbage rolls, smashed potatoes, and of course his famous cucumber sour cream salad. On the days that he didn’t cook dinner, we went to this old school neighborhood family-style Polish restaurant, where we would pretty much order all the same things. The only difference was our meals came with soup and salad and big slices of rye bread. Oh gosh, does this Polish girl looooove her rye bread! For dessert, a big plate of kolaczki, danishes, and strudel. I always made a beeline towards anything with apricot or cream cheese filling. Even today, that …

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