Every Christmas and Easter, Granny and I used to dive into the delightful chaos of baking cozonac. Each year, we approached our baking with unshakable optimism, convinced that this time our cozonaci would rise into perfect fluffy loaves. Yet, every single time, despite our enthusiastic mixing, kneading and meticulous measuring, our beloved sweetbreads stubbornly refused to rise.
One whiff of fried carp and garlic sauce (mujdei) takes me back to the days I spent in Granny Victoria’s cozy kitchen. She passed away in 2012, but her recipes, especially this fried carp with garlic sauce (mujdei) and polenta (mamaliga), keep her spirit alive.
In the 80’s, Granny used to leave the drunken cake on the balcony to set. When I was little, in Bucharest, the temperatures during New Year’s Eve were often below freezing, so the balcony became our second refrigerator. I never had the patience to wait for it to set, so I would always poke it with my finger to see if it had firmed up enough.
…I’m transported back to summers spent with Granny Victoria on her cozy balcony. The fresh aroma of tomatoes and cucumbers, the tang of garlic, and the warmth of mămăligă filled the air as we shared simple yet hearty lunches. Gimilică, our cheeky budgie, always found his way onto my shoulder or my plate, sneaking bites of cheese and vegetables.
I still remember the warmth of my Granny Victoria’s kitchen, where love was measured in tablespoons and time was marked by the crackling sound of the oven. Every Sunday, the scent of roasted chicken filled the house, mingling with stories of her youth and laughter that echoed through generations.
Granny had a way of making every dish feel special, but nothing could match the joy of making her famous carp fish roe spread. Granny trusted me with one of the most important tasks: mixing the carp fish roe. Using “lingura de lemn a familiei” – the oldest wooden spoon you have ever seen in your life passed down from her mother’s mother – I would mix by hand until my arm ached.
Cooking with Granny Victoria always meant embracing flavors, especially garlic. She never skimped on it, and I’ve carried that love into my own kitchen. Her recipes, passed down from her mother and her Aunt Tușa, were more than meals – they were traditions that connected generations.
Granny Victoria was not only a wonderful mother, grandmother, friend and confidant, but also, my greatest teacher in the kitchen. She loved me like no one else and she showed me the beauty in simple things.
Cooking with Granny Victoria was always a magical experience, but nothing compared to the joy of making Romanian Eggplant Appetizer (Zacuscă Țărănească) together. The kitchen would fill with the aroma of roasted peppers and eggplants as we worked side by side. My favorite part was the chopping – peppers, onions, and eggplants, all laid out on the table.
Romanian deviled/stuffed eggs, or ouă umplute, are a cherished appetizer often featured at festive tables. While the base concept came from European culinary traditions, Romanians added their own flair, incorporating local ingredients like pickled vegetables, mustard, mayo, smoked or creamy cheese, dill and parsley.
