Guns and Miracles

The days slipped into weeks and the weeks into months, and yet I couldn’t shake it…the glint of the gun pointing at my face loomed large in my thoughts and in my dreams.  It was the Sunday before Thanksgiving 1989.  We piled our four young children into the back seat of the car and happily went off to visit grandma and grandpa.  It was only 5 p.m. but it was as dark as midnight as I drove up their steep driveway.   I pulled up to the car court, honked the horn and turned off the ignition.  At the same time, in my side mirror I  noticed something moving quickly toward us. I instinctively locked the car doors, and then, through the closed window the gun was in my face.  I calmly said to my husband, who was in the passenger seat, “This is real, give him whatever he wants.”  At first he didn’t know what I was talking about, he hadn’t been looking in my direction.  The young guy began to scream “Don’t move, don’t move!” At that moment my father flipped on the car court lights and opened the front door.  The guy pointed the gun at him and screamed at him not to move.

I wanted to pick up our car phone and call 911, but those were the days when car phones were just coming out, and the car had to be running for you to use them…I had turned the ignition off an instant  before the young man had reached the car.

The windows on our car were darkly tinted. The young man  couldn’t see that there were four little people in the back seat and was surprised at the sounds coming from there.  He kept screaming “Don’t move” and aiming his gun at me and then at my father, and back at me.  Little voices screamed “Mommy what is he going to do?”  “Daddy do something!”  “Mommy, daddy what does he want?”  I just kept thinking, be calm and get the kids safely into the house over and over again.  With a panicked look on his face, our young would-be robber looked over at my father, then at me, then at the tinted backseat windows, and at that moment decided to turn around and run back down the driveway from where he had come.

The police came and took their report. Not knowing exactly how to define it at the time, we were all suffering from a bit of P.T.S.D. I took my kids to a psychologist so that they could vent their fears, and I visited a psychologist as well.  I told him that I was too afraid to ever go back to my parents’ house.  I didn’t even want to go the next Thursday for Thanksgiving.  He said to me, “We’re going for a ride.”  He took me out to his car, and he drove me up to my parents’, while asking me all the way what I was feeling.  My heart was pounding as we approached the house.  We went up the driveway, got out of his car, and he asked me to walk down to  where the young man had sprung from.  He made me look in the bushes and all around until I began to calm down.  The daylight and calm blue skies made me relax a bit. I overcame my fears enough to make it for Thanksgiving that year, but I never really got over the glint of the gun randomly appearing in my mind over the years.

With the advent of Hanukkah beginning tonight, a holiday where we rejoice in miracles, and with the prevalence of guns in our country today,  I recall this event in my life as a true miracle.

Here is wishing each and every one of you a Happy Hanukkah and a life full of miracles!

Hanukkah Potato Latkes…From Generation to Generation

The scent of the freshly baked apple cake and walnut cookies traveled through my pores and into me, faster than a good and delicious kind of virus.

My mouth watered sitting there at the kitchen table in my future in-laws’ apartment in Mexico City, 36 years ago.  As they caught us up, in that cozy setting of deliciously permeating scents and family bonding, with the latest community news of who’d gotten married and who’d divorced, who’d had a baby and who’d passed away, I felt I was getting a glimpse into the old world.  I imagined that this is what the tables must have been like in the small homes of the shtetls (Jewish villages or small towns in Eastern Europe) where Dora and Jacobo had been born, about a half century before. This exclusive club I was now privy to was somehow comforting.  It was as if I had landed on an enormous down filled open palm where I’d always be gently held.

Just as comforting were the infinite dishes of food Dora prepared the next day for the open house, when I was to meet near and extended family and friends.

“Susie, meet Dovi and Marcela, and Sami,and Rosie,  Frida, Jacobo and Ofelia, Samuel and Edith…”  So many people came and went that day I could barely remember anyone’s name.  I never knew a family could be so numerous; between siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins and friends it was dizzying meeting about 150 people in one afternoon and evening, but I had the time of my life!

From that time to the present, my mother-in-law has taught me recipe after recipe; recipes for everyday, recipes for Shabbat and for the Jewish holidays, Eastern European recipes and Mexican recipes….

Even today, I continue to learn from Dora.  Over Thanksgiving, we were blessed to have her visit us from Mexico City.  A few days before she flew back home, and with Hanukkah approaching, I asked her to teach my daughter Ariela and me how to make the traditional Hanukkah potato latkes (potato pancakes prepared especially for the holiday) she’s been making for over 70 years.

Click on the link at the top to watch our Traditional Hanukkah Potato Latke Recipe Video, and see how from generation to generation treasured recipes have been passed down in our family.


  • 1/3 onion
  • 2 Russet Potatoes
  • 1/4 cup matzoh meal
  • 3 eggs
  • Salt and pepper
  • 1 cup canola oil for frying

Garnish options:

  • Applesauce
  • Sour cream


Place the onion in a food processor, blend and set aside.  Grate the two potatoes on the fine side of a hand grater, strain liquid and place in a bowl.  Add the processed onions and mix. Add the 1/4 cup of matzoh meal and mix.  In a separate bowl Crack the 3 eggs, mix briskly with a fork, add to the potato mixture and mix thoroughly, add salt and pepper to taste.  Heat the oil over a medium high flame and wait until it is very hot.   Take  a 1/4 cup measuring cup and fill it (a little less than full) with the potato mixture.  Get very close to the oil and gently pour it in. Repeat until pan is full.  After putting the latkes into the hot oil lower the flame a bit to allow the potato to cook inside.  When the edges of the latkes turn golden brown flip each one over and allow them to brown on the other side, repeat until you have used one half of the potato mixture.

For Ariela’s Spicy Latkes add 1 tablespoon oregano, and  1/4 – 1/2 cup chopped jalapeño peppers from a jar, to the 2nd half of the potato mixture.

Garnish options for the Spicy Latkes:

  • Avocado slices
  • Salsa Verde: Recipe found on the blog
  • Pico de Gallo: A mixture of diced onion, tomato, cilantro leaves, 1 Serrano chili pepper (optional) salt and pepper to taste, and olive oil.

Fry the latkes as you did  the first batch.  Remove from heat and serve right away.

This recipe makes about 20 latkes in total.

Thank you Dora, I am grateful to be the beneficiary of such a rich cultural and culinary heritage.

Enjoy and Happy Hanukkah everybody!







Turkey/Stuffing Taquitos With Guacamole

Still have Thanksgiving leftovers?  Make Turkey/Stuffing Taquitos.  I did and I went:

From this:

Turkey Leftovers

Turkey Leftovers

To This:

Turkey Stuffing Taquitos

Turkey/Stuffing Taquitos

 To This:


Turkey/Stuffing Taquitos:


  • 8 Corn tortillas (double or triple depending on how many people you are serving)
  • 1 cup turkey breast shredded
  • 1 cup stuffing
  • 1/3-1/2 cup canola oil per batch of 8 tortillas


Combine the shredded turkey breast with the stuffing and mix thoroughly.

Warm up the 6-8 tortillas at a time in the microwave oven for one minute (They roll up easier when warm).  Keep the tortillas warm in a tortilla warmer or in between two dry kitchen towels.

Take one tortilla at a time and fill it with a little more than a tablespoon of the turkey/stuffing combination. Roll it up and set aside.  If you are having trouble you can hold each taquito together by putting two toothpicks through each.   Place them one next to the other on a flat surface.

When you have finished rolling all of the taquitos, place canola oil into a frying pan large enough to hold all 8 taquitos.

Heat the oil over medium heat for about 3 minutes, and using a pair of tongs, place each taquito into the hot oil, leaning one up against the next.

Allow the taquitos to fry for about 5 minutes, or until they become crisp and golden. Taquitos will now hold their rolled up shape so that you may remove the toothpicks and turn them over so that they fry for another 5 minutes on the other side.

Remove each taquito from the oil and place on a paper towel so that excess oil is absorbed. When you have removed all of the taquitos pat them gently on their top side to absorb that excess oil as well.

Serve hot and accompany with a homemade guacamole (mashed avocado, diced onion, chopped cilantro and salt to taste).



This Thanksgiving I Pay Tribute To My Father And The Music He Taught Me To Love.

I started filming my dad in February of this year.  I am so grateful to have garnered  hour upon hour of conversation.  One month after I began filming my dad, just before his 96th birthday, he suffered a stroke, which left him without the ability to speak. I have edited the footage for this particular project, and have made this 14 minute movie to honor, thank and  pay tribute to the music my father so loves… the music he ingrained in me.

I hope you enjoy watching!

Dad this Thanksgiving 2014, I want to thank you for all that you have given me, but most of all I thank you for the music…it defines me.

Since I can remember, early in the morning the music notes stealthily floated away from your living room record player winding their way upstairs. Continuing their path down the hallway, they adeptly made their way beneath  the narrow opening at the bottom of my bedroom door.  Then with passion and gentle ferocity they wiggled their way into my heart and took hold.   In that heart lies the music that framed your life, my dad.  There, down deep, Gershwin, Ella and Sinatra, Durante and Martin,   Mathis, Bennett,  Andy Williams and Eydie Gorme, Agustin Lara, Los Panchos, Edith Piaf and Doris Day, The Three Tenors, Vladimir Horowitz , Oistrakh,  Dvorak and on and on… safely reside to this day.

Now, at 96, though your speech is diminished,  your eyes  speak the words you can no longer utter.  The music still connects us in that elemental way it always did.  In those blue-green eyes lies the man you’ve always been.  Dad this year on this Thanksgiving I want to express that I am so grateful for all that you’ve given me, but especially for the music that has so enriched my life, and for every instant we still spend together.

Happy Thanksgiving 2014 to all!



A Jewish Wedding On A Mexican Beach – Part 1

Mazel Tov Michael and Kat!

Mazel Tov Michael and Kat!



“Michael and Kat,

When you first announced that you were having a destination wedding that involved a 2-1/2 hour airplane flight and then a drive longer than the flight itself, in my mind I couldn’t stop thinking of the “F” word, yes that’s right, the “F” word…but it wasn’t the “F” word you are all thinking about.  It was the word FAMILY.  That word, FAMILY, is so full of layers that evoke so much emotion in all of us…”

That was how I started out my speech last Friday night at my nephew’s wedding in Careyes, Mexico.

I had spent the previous 2 days making and baking 34 challahs for the Shabbat dinner we would be having on the beach the Friday before the wedding.

In customs after landing in Puerto Vallarta, a very astute and beautiful Black Labrador was relentlessly trying to get into my suitcase where I had packed the 34 challahs for the 17 tables there would be at the dinner that night. The customs agent firmly holding the lab back on his leash politely asked me, “Señora, do you have food on you?”  “Yes I do” I said.  “What is it?” he asked, I responded simply, “Baked bread.”  He said,  “We are going to have to inspect it.”  A young lady agent and I walked over to a table where we lifted up the suitcase.  I didn’t unzip it all the way fearing she would have to go through each loaf, so I opened it just enough for her to catch a quick glimpse as I pulled out one of the loaves in its aluminum foil container.  I showed it to her and she asked me if it contained any meat, to which I responded “Para nada,” absolutely not.  She asked, “what are the ingredients?”   “Sugar, yeast, water, eggs, oil, salt and flour”.  She said “O.K. go ahead,” and I quickly zipped up the suitcase and made my way to the exit!

34 Challas for the Wedding Shabbat

34 Challahs for the Wedding Shabbat

About 3 hours later and a bit car sick, the 10 of us arrived at the casitas (houses) at Costa Careyes. We delivered the challahs to Michael, my nephew, went quickly to get changed, and then went down to Shabbat dinner on the beach at Playa Rosa.  I kissed Michael and Kat (his fiancée) and my cousins Mark, Leah, Claudia, Fernando and Jenni.  Then there were my cousins’ precious children Dan, Orly, Gabriel and Diego.  I hugged and held my cherished Aunt Fressia closely.  To be there with my husband and all of our children, and to greet family and friends from near and far on that beach was beautiful, and sharing in the experience of that Shabbat dinner was such a special and meaningful way to kick off the weekend with FAMILY.

We were all quite worried about Grandma Helen, Michael’s 99 year-old grandmother who had wanted to be there for her only grandchild’s wedding.  Helen had never been out of the U.S. and had applied for a passport for the first time in her life just a few months before. She had gotten very sick and dehydrated on the ride from the airport, but thankfully began to feel better upon her arrival at the venue.


The next day we were free to hang out at the beach.  In the middle of the day, Ariela, our daughter, said “Mom, we have a surprise for you and Dad in a few minutes.”  I asked if we should go up and change, but she said “No”.   Ten minutes later a boat pulled up to the edge of the beach and our kids said, “Here is your surprise, let’s go, let’s get on the boat!”  “OK Captain Crunchy (that’s what the boat captain called himself) Let’s go.”  All ten of us on board, we took off for the next beach cove over, Playa Blanca.  This was the spot where I had met my husband 38 years earlier.  In the ocean, in front of the sands of Playa Blanca, our kids pulled out a bucket with a bottle of champagne.  They opened the bottle and poured champagne for all of us.  They made toasts to us and said, “Dad, tell us about the first time you met Mom.”  My husband, Isaac, proceeded to tell them the story, and I followed with my version of that fateful day we first met at Playa Blanca in Mexico, all those years ago. There it was again that special and magic moment shared with FAMILY.

Boat Ride to Playa Blanca

Boat Ride to Playa Blanca


While the family still slept on the morning of the wedding I tiptoed out the front door.  I hadn’t gotten the chance to meet my cousin Jenni’s baby, Danielle,  so I went on a mission to find their villa (which was not easy). I descended stairs, crossed a beach, ascended stairs and boarded a funicular in their search.  I finally found their place and I met beautiful little Danielle; my heart melted as I looked at my cousin’s beautiful little blue-eyed baby daughter.  Upon my return, Juana our cook/housekeeper was already in the midst of preparing a typical Mexican breakfast of huevos revueltos a la Mexicana, scrambled eggs Mexican style served with warm corn tortillas, guacamole, and salsa, accompanied by wonderful hot Mexican coffee.  One at a time, the delicious aroma beckoned sleepy person after sleepy person to the table.  We all wiped our dishes clean and went off to get ready for the wedding.

Shuttles would be taking groups to the wedding venue, Cuixmala, which was a 20 minute ride away. We were on the 1:30 Shuttle.  We really didn’t know what to expect, but when we arrived at Casa Cuixmala,  our jaws dropped and we understood why this was Michael and Kat’s dream wedding venue .

The Wedding Venue, Casa Cuixmala


The interior of this palace was just as spectacular as the exterior. We were offered drinks and hors d’oeuvres while a talented Mexican trio played so many of my favorite romantic Mexican songs (boleros, to which I know all of the lyrics).  I was bursting with joy to be here in this dream setting with my immediate and extended family to celebrate the wedding of my very special nephew.  After photos we were told to make our way down to the beach, so we descended the many many stairs, and there beyond the pool stood the beautiful and perfect chuppah, right on the beach.

A Most Perfect Setting

The moment came, the procession began.  Grandma Helen fully recovered, was sitting front row center.

Grandma Helen All Dressed Up

Grandma Helen All Dressed Up

Out walked the Rabbi, followed by Michael, the groom, looking happy and serene, flanked by my beaming brother Gary and beautiful sister-in-law Michele.

Michael and Gary


Michael and Michele

Then came the best man (my son Aaron) and maid of honor followed by the rest of the bridal party, culminating with the gorgeous bride, Katerina and her proud parents, Faina and Michael.

The Gorgeous Bride Kat with Michael and Faina

The groom stepped forward, took his bride-to-be, and together they walked toward the marriage canopy.  The Rabbi chanted and spoke, blessings were bestowed, vows were made, Michael broke the glass, and there at a most perfect time and place, on that Mexican beach, my dear nephew Michael married his beloved Kat.

The Happy Bride And Groom

We formed a cocoon of love and we held Michael and Kat warmly within.  The magic of that moment  surrounded by cherished FAMILY  and friends from near and far, will remain etched within each and every heart of those of us who were fortunate to be there to share in that real life fairy tale.

 P.S.  Part 2 coming soon:  The party and 34 Challah  recipe.



Avocado Salsa Recipe and Video

Here are some of the comments or notes I’ve gotten about some of my recipes:

“You forgot to put cream on the chicken taquitos!”

“This is not real chicken paprikash, you made it without the sour cream!”

Dear kind readers, I adapt my recipes  to conform with Kosher dietary laws,  I therefore don’t combine dairy products with any meat or poultry dishes.

Per Wikipedia, “Kashrut is the body of Jewish law dealing with what foods can and cannot be eaten and how those foods must be prepared. The word “Kashrut” comes from the Hebrew meaning fit, proper or correct…Among the numerous laws that form part of kashrut are the prohibitions on the consumption of …mixtures of meat and milk“.

So, when asked recently how I replace such ingredients as cream on taquitos, I remembered a creamy salsa that I made last Passover.  The creamy texture can be adjusted to reach as thick and rich a consistency as sour cream.

As mentioned, I made this salsa last Passover  to enhance and give variety to our holiday meals.  You’ll see in the video, I had made Barbacoa (a slow cooked meat with all sorts of Mexican spices, normally eaten in soft tacos), and then I made Tostadas with Matzoh crackers instead of tortillas.  The salsa is so good that I use it year round as a topping or a dip.

Whether you keep Kosher or not, whether it’s Passover or not, try this non-dairy creamy salsa, it’s so delicious you’ll want to drink it with a straw!

Avocado Salsa:

  •  6 tomatillos (small green tomatoes)
  •  6 garlic cloves
  • 1/2 onion quartered
  • 2 Jalepeño chili peppers (adjust number of chili peppers to spice level desired)
  • 2 Serrano chili peppers (adjust number of chili peppers to spice level desired)
  • 1/4 cup water
  • 1- 2 ripe avocados, not over ripe (use more avocado for a creamier consistency)
  • 1 bunch of cilantro
  • Salt to taste


Place all of the ingredients except the avocado, cilantro, salt and water in a dry sauce pan and roast over medium heat.  When you start to hear  the ingredients sizzling check them to see if they are browned and ready to be turned over.  Some of the ingredients such as the garlic, will brown faster than others , so keep a close eye on them.  As each of the ingredients browns on one side, flip and brown equally on the other side.  Once even remove from the pan and set aside.

Place the water in the blender first, then a bit at a time add some of the browned ingredients and blend until smooth.  Remember to cut the stems off of the chili peppers before placing them in the blender.  Spoon out the avocado and add it to the blender along with the cilantro, and blend thoroughly.  Do a taste test, add salt and more chili pepper as desired, and blend again.   Pour the creamy salsa into a bowl and serve on the side for each person to garnish his or her taquitos or tostadas with.  You can also serve the salsa as a dip accompanied by a bowl of corn tortilla chips.

Enjoy and happy eating!

Heritage is a Special Kind of Food

After being invited to New York City by The Museum of Jewish Heritage, to take part in a program called Exploring Latin American Jewish Cuisine,, I become more  interested in the term heritage.

Of course I’ve heard the term forever, yet I search in the dictionary, and here are portions of definitions I find:


noun \ˈher-ə-tij, ˈhe-rə-\

: the traditions, achievements, beliefs, etc., that are part of the history of a group or nation

a :  something transmitted by or acquired from a predecessor

We, our parents, our children…all of us are the result of all of the particles and cells that miraculously come together from what precedes us.  We take the baton from our parents, as they took it from theirs, and just the same, we hand it to our children who wait for it with open hands.

Today, my elderly and beloved father is unable to speak much, nor do much anymore, yet he fiercely clutches the sides of the bowl, as I feed him the soup I made for last night’s Shabbat dinner. I lift spoonful after spoonful to his waiting mouth. He noisily, slurps and swallows the broth. He slowly chews, the carrots, barley pearls, and bits of chicken.   After a while, barely audibly, he says “good”…this is part of my heritage.

After lunch my dad and I sit in knowing silence, looking out at the pool and its reflections. We know that we love each other, and this love is unbreakable. We look out at the water and beyond the edge of the yard, onto the hot summer day, where stealthy hawks continuously swoop up and down the hills in search of prey.

Dad’s hair is getting long, so there, in front of the hawks, I decide to give him a haircut. I really don’t have experience cutting hair, but it turns out it’s pretty easy. I say, “Dad, be very still. I’m cutting your hair and I wouldn’t want to poke you.” He understands, he’s worried, and so he keeps very still. He is that little boy he was more than 90 years ago. After the haircut I soak his hands in warm soapy water and give him a manicure. He winces, afraid I’ll cut him, but when it’s over he’s happy.  My hands, my fingers are just like his…this is part of my heritage.Father and Daughter

“Daddy tell me if you remember this one,” I say, as Dean Martin starts to sing Everybody Loves Somebody Sometime.  My father smiles broadly, and with sad, nostalgic eyes he nods in satisfying recognition…this is part of my heritage.

After many songs, and caresses, my daddy falls asleep. I quietly get up and go into mom’s closet. Today I play dress up. I try on the gold shoes she wore with the St. John’s outfits she so loved, and the silver ones she wore to my niece’s wedding. I find a cute pair of black flats, but they’re small on me. Mom was a 6 1/2 and I’m a 7.  I try on her blouses and skirts, her dresses and pants. Though she is gone, I detect the Channel No.5  that still lingers on her clothing…this is part of my heritage.

I sit on an airplane from L. A. to New York  to take part in a program on Latin Jewish cooking.  I think about the meal I prepared for last Shabbat’s dinner.   Homemade challah (prepared by Norm), a choice of Pozole (spicy Mexican soup), or chicken barley soup, Chicken Paprikash and nokedli (Hungarian dumplings),  barbacoa (a spicy Mexican  lamb stew), accompanied by a red Mexican rice, refried beans, warm corn tortillas, guacamole and salsa…this is all part of my heritage too.

Heritage Food

Heritage Food

Hello New York, I carry you inside of me, the place of my father’s birth… you are part of my heritage too.

It is nearly Shabbat now, the greatest part of my heritage,… and with a full and happy heart, I say,

Shabbat Shalom le kulam!


4th of July Manischewitz Sangria Recipe!

This coming Friday is the 4th of July, and we are excited to be hosting our cousins from Mexico for Shabbat dinner.

For this festive occasion, which combines Shabbat with the 4th, I have invented a Manischewitz Sangria that will knock anybody’s stars and stripes socks off!

As it is infused with various fruit and liqueur flavors the Manischewitz Wine undergoes  a metamorphosis, and comes out the most refreshing, smooth, and delicious butterfly of a beverage.

Click on the link to watch my step by step recipe video.

With my Sangria you won’t need any fireworks!


  • 1  750 ml. bottle of Manischewitz Concord Grape Wine
  • 1  navel orange thinly sliced into half moons
  • 1  apple cored and sliced thinly in half moons
  • 1  firm yet ripe peach thinly sliced in half moons
  • 2 navel oranges juiced (yield 8-10 ounces)
  • 1  cup of orange liqueur of your choice, such as Grand Marnier, or Cointreau
  • 1/4 cup brandy or sherry of your choice
  • 1  liter bottle of sparkling lemon soda
  • ice cubes

You will also need either, two nice glass pitchers, or a punchbowl and ladle.


Slice the fruit, and in a metal bowl, (if you  have one), combine it with the entire bottle of Manischewitz wine, and refrigerate for 2 hours. Juice the 2 navel oranges.  Remove the bowl from the refrigerator and stir in the 1 cup of orange liqueur, the 1/4 cup of brandy or sherry, and the 8-10 ounces of orange juice. Fill the two glass pitchers 1/4 full with ice cubes, and then ladle the Sangria with the fruit, into them.  Just before serving pour one half of the bottle of Sparkling Lemon Soda into each of the pitchers, stir, and serve immediately!

Refreshing Sangria



This coming Friday, I hope everyone has Happy and safe 4th of July, and especially a Shabbat Shalom!




The Wondrous Corn Tortilla

Martha, Lily and Edith.

Martha, Lily and Edith.

In 1928,  gaunt and dazed from 6 weeks at sea, my Grandmother Lily, stepped off  the Orinoco, the ship that had brought her and her two little girls to the shores of  Mexico from Hungary.  They had sailed across the Atlantic from the port of Hamburg in Germany, and arrived 6 weeks later at the port of Tampico, in the Gulf of Mexico. Holding my mother Martha and my Aunt Edith’s hands, she stepped off  the gangplank and into a new world from the one she had known in Budapest.  My grandfather Berzi, who a year before had announced he was going to America, was there waiting for them.  He had arrived in Tampico, in the Mexican state of Tamaulipas, got settled, and sent word his to wife, that the family should join him.

The days and weeks passed.  My Grandmother was homesick.   She was overcome with sadness, because she missed her mother too much.  She could not adjust to life in Mexico, with its strange language, strange ways, and strange food.  In particular she hated those round, cardboard tasting discs that everybody accompanied their food with;  yes, my  Grandmother Lily hated tortillas.  She was so unhappy,  she boarded the ship anew, with Martha and Edith in tow, and went back to Hungary.

After several months, my grandfather persuaded her to come once more.  After all, he argued,  “At least here in Mexico, there is no anti-Semitism like that in Hungary, nor will we have to go down to the cellar to hide from the Bolsheviks”.   She reluctantly agreed, went back to Tampico and settled into a new life.

Eventually, my supremely Hungarian grandmother, came to love Mexico, and its food.  She especially learned that the rich and smoky subtleties of the corn tortilla, were a thing of beauty.  She came to understand and appreciate that  the tortilla was a food like no other.

Two generations later I couldn’t agree more.  This ancient staple of the Aztecs, the wondrous tortilla,  is a treat, rolled up warm and freshly made, or it is the unique and irreplaceable building block in the making of so many dishes.

Come along, watch my video, and make your own homemade corn tortillas.

Corn Tortillas

For this recipe you will need a Tortilla Press.  I bought mine at a restaurant supply shop, but they can be found in places such as Bed Bath and Beyond, Smart & Final, Macy’s or Amazon.


  • 2/3 cup water
  • 1/8-1/4 teaspoon salt

Barring a few tweaks, I basically followed the directions for 8 tortillas, on the back of the MASECA flour bag.

Combine the three ingredients.  Mix thoroughly for a few minutes to form soft dough.   “If dough feels dry add more water (one tablespoon at a time).”

Divide dough into 8 equal balls, about the size of a golf ball.

Heat a dry griddle or non-stick frying pan on medium-high heat.

Line the tortilla press with a large cut open Ziploc bag.

Place one ball of dough at a time in the center of the tortilla press, and flatten.  As you carefully remove the tortilla, place it on the hot griddle or in the pan.  Leave tortilla for about a minute on one side, it will start to smoke a bit and you’ll know it’s time to flip it over with a spatula.  Leave for about one more minute on the other side, and remove to a tortilla warmer or a cloth napkin.

Continue the process one tortilla at a time, until you have made them all.

With your freshly made tortillas as building blocks, you are now ready to make  tacos, enchiladas, tostadas, quesadillas, chilaquiles, and  many more Mexican delicacies.


JFK In My Post?…Not Only A Cooking Blog.

Kennedy HeadlinesIn 1963, our family owned several retail stores in the Zona Rosa of Mexico City.  I was 10, and had been given permission to walk by myself from one store to the other, as long as I didn’t need to cross the street.  The names of our stores were, Riviera S.A.,  Martha Sastre, Marlen, May Boutique, Sabra, and Susan Kay.  The stores were all located within about a one mile radius of each other.                                       

On the afternoon of November 22nd, I set out from Martha Sastre my mother’s store, to May Boutique, and Sabra, my grandmother’s and my Uncle Mundo’s stores.  As I stepped out and turned left, I paused one door down, to look at the beautiful European pastry display in Konditori,  a very fancy, (I thought), restaurant .  I happily continued my stroll down Genova Street,  looking at all of the store-front displays as I went.  When I reached the corner and turned left at Hamburgo Street,  I suddenly heard a commotion.

Alarmed grown-ups were shouting  up and down the street, “Mataron a Kennedy, Mataron a Kennedy”… “They’ve killed Kennedy, They’ve killed Kennedy”.   At 10 years of age, never having been outside of Mexico, I knew who Kennedy was, because my parents spoke a lot about him at home.  As young as I was, they had made me and my brothers understand that Kennedy was a hero, that he was the hope of the world…the hope for freedom, equality and justice.

So many sad days followed.  My mother didn’t go to work.  I cried because my mom cried. She almost never cried so when she did, it deeply affected me.  She sat on that nest shaped chair, legs folded into fetal position, black ballet flats tucked under her. I watched her watch the funeral at Arlington Cemetery. 

Children learn sensitivity from watching their parents’ sadness and heartache.