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.
Categories:
kugels, food,
Form: Rhyme
Everybody’s noodle pudding’s
Baked a different way.
If you lined them up, you’d find
A real diverse display.
Mine, which is delicious,
Has two different kinds of fruit –
Orange slices from the can
And pineapple, to boot;
Sour cream, vanilla, butter,
Eggs and cottage cheese.
It disappears so fast, there’s not
A piece left I can freeze.
My friend makes hers with cream cheese,
Also pineapple and milk!
She bakes it half as long as mine
And says it’s smooth as silk.
Some recipes have raisins
And use cinnamon for spicing.
That combination, to my palate,
Isn’t that enticing.
In spite of the ingredients
That they’re concocted of,
All kugels* taste delectable
If they are made with love.
Yet every cook who makes one
Would be proud to take a test
Just to prove what she knows in her heart –
Her noodle pudding’s best!
*Yiddish for noodle puddings or other baked dishes
Categories:
kugels, food,
Form: Rhyme