I can’t think about Christmas without thinking about recipes, and I can’t go through my recipe box without thinking about Christmas. Index cards documenting ingredients written in fading ink link me to decades of family and friends.
My old-fashioned fudge recipe brings to mind my great-grandmother, grandma, and mom standing before the stove stirring that old black-handled pan passed down to each in turn. Linzer tarts recall my husband’s mother and grandmother. Stan’s favorite cut-out sugar cookies remind me of Sheri, the school librarian. Sondra’s peanut butter blossoms evolved into a tradition my mom ate til she emptied the plate. Jeanette’s snickerdoodles remind me of good people who once worked at the old Ellis St. bank. That said, there’s a Christmas recipe I love to make that honors my Volga German heritage that almost didn’t appear in my treasured collection. Thank goodness, fate intervened to guarantee these cookies decorate the Christmas cookie platter.
My Volga German family emigrated from Russia to Rush County Kansas in the late 1800s, joining other newcomers in central Kansas. Taking advantage of a strong work ethic and homesteading opportunities, they farmed. Though her parents were born in Russia, Grandma and most of her siblings came along after the family arrived in the new country. While she grew up, her family spoke German at home, so she didn’t learn English until she began first grade. As a result, Grandma spoke with a mild German accent all her life. In fact, her kids, second generation Kansans, pronounced a few words with a German twist. We didn’t have uncles in our family; we had onkles.
Born early in the new century, Grandma reached adulthood as America entered World War I. Her older brother interpreted for American forces, serving under John Pershing. While her brother fought overseas, folks back home with German accents faced prejudice. Grandma never shared her experiences, but she also never cooked German food for me.
Soon after we married, my husband’s job transferred him to Ellis County, home to vibrant Volga German settlements. One of my early jobs included teaching at Hays High where we had amazing Volga German cooks. They served traditional school lunches like pizza and meatloaf, but they occasionally included sides of German soups such as green bean dumpling or bean and noodle soup. What had I missed all those years? On everyone’s favorite lunch day, our kitchen wizards served hot-out-of-the-oven bierocks. Walking toward the scent of hot bread, browned burger, cabbage, and onions drove my taste buds crazy.
During the holidays on year, I discovered spitzbuben. Holy cow, how had I grown up with a Volga German grandmother and never eaten this buttery goodness? The next time we got together, I asked, “Grandma, did your mom cook German food when you grew up?”
She answered, “Yes, why?”
I responded, “I wondered because our school cooks serve Volga German foods and desserts, and they’re really good. Why didn’t we eat them at your house?”
Grandma was a tall woman who reared back to her full 5’9’’. With a stronger than usual German accent, she informed me, “I vas American and I fet my kits American food.” That ended the questions.
Thank goodness, Volga German friends hooked me up with regional recipe books and offered guidance. Now I cook Volga German recipes when the urge hits.