Noodle Kugel
Everybody’s noodle kugel
Varies in a way
And some taste just as different
As the night is to the day.
Most recipes were handed down,
A bit of family lore,
Or found in temple cookbooks,
Which have recipes galore.
I tried a few when searching
For the one I’d call my own,
Since the kugels of my grandmas
From my memory have flown.
But I hit upon the perfect one
And make it every year.
Not everybody loves it
But each piece will disappear
Since whatever’s left, I’ll wrap and freeze
So it won’t go to waste
And then, bit by bit, I’ll eat it
‘Cause it’s made to just my taste.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
