Kitchen Stories

My brother Paul has been gone 8 years today.  I think about him every day, but on this day every year I tend to get a bit more melancholy.  About a week and a half ago, I was baking a cake for our family Hanukkah get-together.  The cake was our mother's famous sour cream coffee cake.  Always a hit.  As I remember this recipe, and all the times that mom made it, I was thinking about Paul and his creative side in the kitchen.  He was like me in the kitchen.  More of a Chemist than a Cook.

There were the good things.  The chocolate chip pancakes, The famous pizza omelette (he had a special "Uncle Buck" frying pan for that one), the cakes, ohhh the cakes.  He made special decorated cakes for special occasions like Lee's thirtieth birthday party.  Then there were the not so good things.  Chocolate scrambled eggs rises to the top of the list I think.  Words cannot describe this.  One of my favorite kitchen faux pas had to be the caramel.
Mom and dad were not around.  Paul had been left in charge of me, and was spending time in the kitchen creating something.  I was in my room, not paying attention, until I began to hear banging, and noticed a burnt-sugar smell.  As I went into the kitchen to see what was going on I saw Paul, chipping away at something that was hardened on the stove.

Image credit: thehomelook.blogspot.com

He had consulted a few cookbooks, and was trying to make caramel candy.  Everything was going fine until he poured the caramel into a plastic container to let it cool.  The container stretched, and broke.  The caramel, which was more at a hard-candy stage at that point instantly cooled and solidified on the stainless steel stove.  He was whacking away at it with a knife handle to get it all off.

For each story like this, I have so many more memories of going to his place to share a meal of home made ribs, sukiyaki, and so much more.  If you can hear me Paul, hear this:  I have carried on the torch.  Jill, and the kids can verify that I have definitely taken over mad scientist duties in the kitchen.  Chances are that you know this.  Take care, and try not to laugh too hard when I burn things.

Your Brother,
Neil

A Poem for Paul

A Poem for Paul
December 22,2015

Tidings Of Comfort And Joy

God Rest Ye Merry Paul Goldstein
Let Nothing You Dismay
We've Celebrated You At Chanukah
And Will On Christmas Day
With Stockings Hung Up By The Fire
As Santa We Await

Oh Tidings of (Southern) Comfort And Joy
Comfort And Joy
Oh Tidings of Comfort And Joy

God Rest Ye Merry Paul Goldstein
Let Nothing You Dismay
You've Been Gone 8 Long Years Ago
This 22nd Of December Day
To Journey Toward Your Heavenly Home
That Seems So Far Away

Oh Tidings of Comfort And Joy
Comfort And Joy
Oh Tidings Of Comfort And Joy

God Rest Ye Merry Paul Goldstein
Let Nothing You Dismay
With Hearts And Hands And Voices
We Bless You This Special Day
We'll Bake Your Special Cinnamon Buns
Make Rice Salad & Bake A Cake

And Toast To Your Comfort And Joy
Comfort And Joy
Oh Tidings Of Comfort And Joy

Dear Paul,
Thank you for making this time of year special for me, full of love, surprises, and abundant joy. All of them overflowed in you this time of year, and touched everyone around you. Christmas is not the same without you. I hold in my heart the memories of Good Times, Great Food (Chinese), and a Dear Friend. Miss you Always & Always, Sue

Happy Birthday to my Brother Paul - 2015

Well, today would have been your 57th birthday. I've been missing you quite a bit lately as so much has been going on that I know I would have been talking endlessly with you about.  The world is a huge paradox these days. We're careening down a path towards financial and social destruction, while being a part of innovations that are changing the way we do everything.  I'm hoping that we reach a point soon where one cancels the other out finally. The other thing that scares me is the world we are giving our children. They are coming age, and should be running the show now, but I see so much apathy, and disconnection in their faces that I don't think they understand what's wrong.

I have a feeling that every generation when it reaches middle age looks at the next generation this way. I hope that's the case, and these are just the ramblings of an aging curmudgeon-to-be.  Otherwise, things are good here.  I am a much happier person at age 50 than I was at age 30. It would be better if you were still here though.  Happy Birthday Paul.

--Brother Neil