Memories of schmaltz, both culinary and descriptive, tend to propel me into fits of laughter. I have beaucoup de schmaltz stories.
For example: the matriarch suffered occasional lapses into decorative schmaltzyness. These include a faux Versailles white chair planted adjacent to the RCA mahogany enclosed TV set. Therefore, no one could miss seeing it. Each arm rest sported gold balls dangling an inch apart. Tiny gold fleurs de lis lent an air of je ne sais quoi. Only cousin Larry dared to sit on it. Once
Grandma, I’m told hardened hearts with the dish of grebenes (rendered chicken fat with clusters of burnt onion). Mom, the failed Interior Decorator, reported that it was delicious. Grandma lived to age 88. mom survived into her 94 th year. Perhaps
, it’s not chickensoup alone that’s good for the soul.
Words, certain words, open floodgates
:
