For this weeks Heirloom Recipe Series, I am honored to have friend and famed food stylist, writer and Running with Tweezers blogger, Tami Hardeman with us. When I began this project, I didn’t truly consider the depth of emotion and connection people have with their recipes, specifically their family recipes. I am not quite sure why, as my personal collection of heirloom recipe cards are one of my most treasured possessions. I just wanted to hear and share the stories of others and help others to cherish memories, sift through recipes and preserve their family dishes for future generations.

I believe that Tami did such a beautiful job in sharing her special story,  recipe, and  gorgeously simple photography with us (I personally *adore* her soup shots, so this is such a treat) that I kept her note to me intact to truly capture the essence of her storytelling below.

image by Tami Hardeman

Dear Ashley,

I hope this finds you well. I do apologize for the delay in getting something to you.  I have a small confession to make – approaching this blog post about recipes from my mother has been far more challenging than I first thought it would be. I’m writing this on the eve of the four year anniversary of my mother’s passing…and even typing about it today has made me more emotional that I realized I would be several years since her death. September has become a month of days – those kinds of days – the ones marked by a heaviness in the air. A tightness in my chest and a lump in my throat. This month is a series of anniversaries – a triple threat of my mom’s hospitalization, her birthday and then the day she died. It all happened so fast four years ago – 17 days from start to finish. Now, as that chain of events reminds me of itself every year, the time goes by so very slowly.

I spend my time in September when I’m not working, which thankfully this year isn’t often, by cooking. The oppressive heat we’ve been experiencing is so counter to the foods I crave this time of year. I woke up wanting to bake my mother’s chocolate chips cookies and put tomato-y stuffed cabbage rolls in the crock pot to simmer. Today, however, I wanted to make soup. My mother was an evil genius when it came to making soups. Several of her recipes are the stuff of legend – one year, a friend of mine asked if my birthday gift to him would be a quart of my mom’s chicken and rice soup. I asked, of course, and she happily obliged. I remember her then ridiculous idea for cheeseburger soup, which a few weeks later graced my lips as a spoonful of the most perfect cheeseburger you’ve ever tasted. Her way-heavier-than-need-be matzo ball soup that she took over the top with egg noodles in the bowl, as well (i think the peas in the broth were canned – no one is perfect) is something I still crave. Her improvisational skills when it came to soup were astonishing…and it’s a source of great inspiration for me. It’s also hard for me because when I want to recreate those recipes, as I am often want to do, I don’t have a recipe book or card to turn to. The very few journals of hand-written recipes or magazine clippings of ideas were sent to my aunts in the months after my mother passed away. It’s forced me to turn to my own recipe-less powers and hone them, which I am happy to say that I’m (mostly) able to do.

I woke up on this Sunday…and as I wait for the inevitable mix of sadness, frustration, grief, loss, and waves of memories that make me smile to wash over me…I made soup. Outside of the infamous chicken & wild rice soup (the recipe for which I’m still trying to figure out), one of my favorite soups my mother made was a recipe taught to her by my grandmother. In the way that most German recipes come about, it’s a simple way of using very cheap, hearty ingredients. An even mix of cabbage and potatoes with just a little bit of seasoning. I’ve never found a recipe for it…and haven’t attempted to make it until today.

Just smelling the ingredients simmering on the stove brought me back to smelling it our kitchen growing up. I hadn’t had this soup since before my mother passed away…and I have to tell you: tears welled up in my eyes when I tasted the first spoonful. It’s exactly how I remember it – thick, creamy (but it had no dairy in it), pungent from the cabbage but in the best possible way. Making this today – and finally recording the recipe for myself and others to see – felt like my mom’s hand on my shoulder. As hard as it’s been to talk about, the process of cooking in my life the way I was taught – even when I didn’t realize I was being shown – is one of the saving graces in my life now. For the longest time, I’ve lamented not paying more attention to my mom in the kitchen – you never think that one day, she’s not going to be around to teach you how to cook something. I guess that’s the power and the purpose of family recipes and passing them down. The process, the learning – it’s happening to you whether you realize it or not.

Thank you for giving me the chance to share this part of me and who I am – and a part of my family – with you, Ashley. You and your blog – and your dedication to beauty and tradition – are really something quite special.

All the best,

Tami

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German Potato and Cabbage Soup – serves 6 to 8

4 tbsp. butter
1 cup diced yellow onion
3 large russet potatoes – peeled and chopped into even pieces
1 small head green cabbage – cut into evenly sized pieces
salt and fresh ground pepper
6 cups chicken stock – you can substitute 1/2 stock and 1/2 water, as well
crisp prosciutto, chopped herbs or sour cream for garnish – my mom always topped it with a dollop of sour cream and crumbled bacon…but I think the herbs are a nice touch & keep it lighter
– Melt the butter in a large, heavy- bottomed stockpot. When the butter is melted and starts to get foamy (not brown), add the onions and potatoes. Stir thoroughly, cover, and allow to simmer for about 10-12 minutes. Add the chicken stock (and/or water) and simmer the onions and potatoes until the potatoes are almost fork-tender, about 15 minutes. Add the cabbage and cook for another 10-12 minutes until the cabbage is also tender. Allow to cool and then puree in a blender until smooth. Pour the soup back into the pot and warm through again before serving, adding salt and pepper to taste.

Be sure to connect with Tami on Twitter, Facebook Page, on her blog, and take a peek at her gorgeous food styling & photography talents online here.

Part of our Heirloom Recipes Series, featuring foodies, chefs, artisans, Southerners & fabulous folks willing to share their stories, recipes and photos in an effort to help preserve and share these family recipes for generations to come.

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