Libuse Hrabova (1928)

I'm Klara van Duijkeren, 24 years old and living in Amsterdam. I never knew my Dutch grandmother, but I'm lucky to have a good relationship with the mother of my mother, who is Czech. I'm actually staying with her right now, because of my master thesis and I'm really happy to have some quality time with her. I think she's really inspiring and a special person, I will try to explain shortly why.

My grandmother actually has two different personalities . First of all, she is a professor in history, always passionately telling her stories about medieval times. It’s absolutely not easy to understand everything she says and to keep up with all the different names and dates. Not seldom you find yourself trapped in a web of German priests and Italian bishops within only ten minutes of oration. A while ago I’ve changed my listening tactic into a more active-aggressive type and interrupt her immediately when I lose track. I think it’s important to acknowledge it if you don’t understand something and simultaneously show that you’re eager to learn. Another thing she made me realize, is that the most important thing in live is to keep exploring. "It should be something in which you'll find things that are new for you, that feeling will make you happy", she said, when I asked her which profession she thinks will suit me. This answer was quite a relief and a good example of a grandmother's advice that will lead me somehow in life, I guess.

The other side of my grandmother is more what one would expect of a true ‘stařenka’. In a trajectory which will take a few more years of experience, she is teaching me how to make the most delicious ‘apple strudel’ and is uncovering the secrets behind her wide variety of Christmas cookies. Furthermore I’ve already learned indispensible techniques like the perfect angle to hold your wrist when you’re stirring home-made blackberry jam. “No you can’t have a break, keep on moving seventy-five minutes straight, otherwise it will be ruined!”.

Apple Strudel (I’ve added some comments, since I saw her doing it ‘live’ a few days ago)

Ingredients (for two small rolls): ½ kilo of flour, 1 egg, 1 big spoon of oil (not olive oil), little bit of salt, warm water, ½ teaspoon of vinegar, apples (2 kilos at least), raisins, butter, cinnamon (powder), breadcrumbs, sugar.

Make a hole in a pile of flour (actually you really need Czech flour!), break the egg, add the oil, salt and vinegar in the hole. Stir and add water carefully till you can squeeze it with your hands, make a solid piece of dough. Wrap it in plastic, to keep it moisturized, put it to rest on a warm place for 30 minutes. In the mean time: cut the apples, melt the butter, roast the breadcrumbs in a little bit of butter.

Spread a tablecloth, sprinkle a little bit of flour on it. Cut half of the dough, wrap one half in plastic again, roll out the other piece as much as possible. The main skill: pull from the centre with your hands till its really thin, almost see-trough, without tearing it apart. Cut the thick parts (with scissors) on the outskirts. Spread melted butter, breadcrumbs, pieces of apple, (a lot of) sugar, cinnamon, raisins and sprinkle with butter in the end. The taste of the apples depend on the season and decides how much extra flavors should be added. Make a roll with help of the tablecloth, cover with melted butter, put in the oven carefully. Bake at 200 degrees till it’s brown (crispy thin crust), again put melted butter on top (don’t be humble), cut into pieces while it’s warm. Repeat steps for second strudel, always make two, at least!

Klara van Duijkeren

Tamara Gogiberidze (1918-2009)

My Name is Tina Gurgenidze I was born and raised in Tbilisi, Georgia. Now I live in Berlin, Germany with my husband. Here I would like to talk about my gradmother Tamara with whom I have spent lots of time in my life. When I

remember my grandmother Tamara I always remember the stories she used to tell me, the stories about the war, about her life in the village etc… What I also remember is the game we always played together. We used to make a house out of the blanket and hide inside of it. This was something like our secret. I loved this game and I was always very happy when grandma came to visit us. The blanket house was like a hiding place for us where all our dreams could come true, it was like our imaginary world, we would spend hours there and never get bored. I could not really say what I have actually learned from my grandma Tamara, no recipe or a handcraft, I think I just learned things about life from her that definitely influenced me in my own life. Grandma Tamara was a person full of life and always happy, without worries, just looking at everything easily. From her I learned to always take the difficulties in an easy way and stay calm in any situation. Looking at h

er I understood that in spite of all the difficulties that life brings along we should always try to stay calm, continue living and never loose our hopes.

(On the top picture left- Grandma Tina Kobiashvili right Grandma Tamara Gogiberidze, I was 3 years old when my grandma Tina died. On the bottom my mother Isolda Siradze with her mother Tamara Gogiberidze)

Sumiko Kageyama (born in 1925)

My name is Reiko Kageyama, born and raised in Japan. Here I would like to talk little bit about my grandmother, Sumiko. She is my mother’s mother, and we used to live closed to each other until I moved to a bit far when I was at age 7.

She was very kind and warm person. Though she was always in the shadow of my grandfather who had strong impact on my life, she was always there to support us. 

My memory with Sumiko starts with knitting.

She was married at age 17 and served as a housewife since then, so she is good with practical things, like cooking and sawing. Besides these skills, she taught me knitting.

I could not find any “completed” pieces she did, but I remember I was fascinated by her skills back then. It was like a magic for me as a string becomes one sheet-like and get longer and longer to become something… 

There are many different techniques in knitting and each technique should be used for different outcomes. For example, stocknette stitch is good for making sweater, as each stitch is small and tight together so that it keeps you warm. Crochet stitch and Double crochet stitch are good for making things like a hat for spring/fall as it is not so warm due to the rough stitch, but gives elegant patterns on the surfaces.

I liked crochet stitch better as it was easier for me to use only one needle instead of using two for stocknette stitch, but she tried to teach me hard one as it is more challenging. She also taught me how to be challenging and patient.

Now she is 84 years old. Recently, she had to have surgery due to some stomach problem. The operation went well, but because of her age, it takes really long to get back to the same condition as she was before. She is still in the hospital after a few month, but getting better every day. 

 

Whenever I visit her in hospital, she always thank me for coming visit and worry about me getting back home as I live a bit far.  

Knitting maybe one of the special skills she taught me, but as I see her now in the hospital, she still teaches me many things, such as caring heart. Her attitude to others even when she is in the hospital and feeling pain makes me wonder if I can be like that when I am the one suffering. And it makes me think how kind and warm she is, and that is something I should be following. 

I am proud of myself that I was born as one of the grandchildren of her, and I appreciate this project as it made me think about my grandmother a lot.  

Reiko Kageyama 

Vera Moshkina (1930-2008)

This grandmother holds the magic role of the keeper of my childhood. My father was of course always busy, my mother was near us and took a very good care of everything, but baba Vera and her world was the embodiment of warmth, care and family values. Her house, or any other place, where she would come, was instantly transformed into a cozy nest, where everything was clean, tidy, something was being cooked// and the pastry was growing in its bucket for her famous pies, kids were surrounded by care, the cat was taking his lazy waddling walk... And she, while making the soup or cleaning up, she was singing! Singing with ease and fullness, without being shy, and this singing was the proof, that she was enjoying this process of tidying up, of the domestic occupations. It felt as she was structuring up space of the house around, and it was gaining not only physical, but spiritual beauty.

Her house, her attitude for order – it was always our guideline: we, kids, could never imagine a house more clean or more cozy, more heartfelt or more tasty the homemade food. And if we ever managed clean or cook something at home, the most precious grade was to hear: Wow, this is just like as Baba Vera did it!

Rouluen Chou (1930-present)

My grandmother Rouluen is a very quiet and dedicated grandmother. I don’t feel very close to her, because she has always been in the shadow of my grandfather, my mother and of my rather large family. She is the woman I don’t want to be when I grow up. She is a product of the Confucian system, subjugate to her husband, loving sons more than daughters. My mother, my sisters and I are all daughters.

Despite her preference, she expresses her love and care for me and my family through her wondrous cooking; through her everyday actions. When she comes to live with us or visit us, she can be found hovering in the kitchen day and night, cleaning or preparing something, staving off my father, who also loves to cook. The kitchen is her territory, and maybe because of that, she never taught us how to cook like her. At every home cooked dinner by grandma, we play out the same elaborate ritual of thanks. Everyone takes turns remarking on how good the food is, agreeing with each other, and thanking my grandmother. She grunts or mutters something in reply.

Because of our distance from each other, I cannot name one specific skill she taught me. I wonder if she tried, and that I have only ungratefully forgotten. Rather, from her I learned the value of patience, quiet endurance and of small everyday acts that define you. There is one vivid memory I have that stands out from the others, mundane yet extraordinary.

In the house where I grew up in California, a previous owner had converted the patio, and some of the garden inside, into a double height atrium and extra living room with a guestroom on the side. As my two sets of grandparents rotated in and out of our house, they would stay in the guestroom on their extended visits. The atrium and living room was the territory of us kids. It was the location of our dreams and often our nightmares. When it rained, the atrium would flood. We would pretend to be mermaids or jungle explorers there. We were always under the watchful eye of my grandma, quietly watching us from the kitchen or subtly aware of our play from her bedroom.

In this space, there were two walls of large sliding glass doors. Often birds would collide with the glass, dead on impact. Perhaps, they were hurtling themselves towards the trees inside. Once, there was a survivor; a morning dove. It appeared, without any explanation, hobbling amongst the garden trees with bandaged leg and wing, adding wild reality to our play space. She silently nourished it back to health. One day it was gone as it had come to us, with no fanfare. When we asked about it, my grandmother merely shrugged.

Effrosyni Liapati Petala (1913-2003)

My grandmother Effrosyni has taught me a lot about gardening. She had a great garden in my village which is still being maintained by my family. I learned everything about when is the right time during the year to plant what, how much water each plant needs, which plants need more or less light, as well as which seeds should be kept in order to be plant the year after. Her garden included all kinds of vegetables (e.g. potatoes, tomatoes, egg plants, cucumbers, corn, courgettes, and cauliflowers) but she also maintained a garden full of flowers (e.g. roses, daisies, carnations, dahlias, and hyacinths). Apart from vegetables and flowers, she also maintained quite some trees for our own fruit production. An important skill I learned from her as well is how to prune the trees properly in order to maximize productivity. I loved the fact that after collecting the fruits she would always use them for making home-made fruity liquors or traditional marmalades. She taught me how to make lovely cherry marmalade and walnut liquor, based on home-made “tsipouro” (traditional Greek beverage, minimum 40% alcohol).
I would like to share with you the recipe to make your own home-made walnut liquor. Tsipouro, raki, or any other plain, transparent alcoholic beverage with about 40-50% of alcohol can be a good basis for the walnut liquor. Vodka is also a good basis. We need 1 kg. plain, colorless alcoholic drink and 10 fresh, green walnuts. Wash the walnuts thoroughly. Dry them very well and then place them in the plain alcoholic basis. We will then add 500 gr. of sugar, after we have melted it in a bit of warm water. Finally we add a cinnamon stick. Make sure that the bottle with the mixture is being sealed very well. Leave the bottle in a sunny place (e.g. next to a window) for about 1 month. You will notice that its color becomes darker and darker. Afterwards, you have to pour the liquor onto a strainer so as to filter it. Then you can put it in bottles that you have washed very well before with boiled water. Your liquor is ready to be consumed. Cheers!

Eftichía Drosou Katsiana (1916)

I have gained quite some skills from my grandmother Eftichía. She has been a tailoress for most of her life; I would sit on the floor, next to her old-school sewing machine and watch her for hours. She loved to create curtains, as well as bed sheets and cushions with many different types of embroidery. Traditional Greek embroidery is being made with either cotton or silk thread. Plain white, colorful or golden designs can be found almost in every Greek house. The custom is that the grandmothers create embroidery pieces for their granddaughters in order them to have a nice collection to show to their husband by the time they get married. Although this tradition is fading, I have quite a big collection of curtains, table cloths, bed sheets, pillows and blankets, all with unique types of embroidery made from my grandmother.

Traditional Greek embroidery involves highly creative and detailed designs, inspired by the customs and of course nature. My grandmother liked embroidery with patters from nature, mainly flowers and birds. She has indeed inspired me a lot with her creativity. She has also been great with knitting, making wonderful woolen clothing and accessories that both me and my mother still have in our closets. She taught me how to knit my own woolen scarves and long woolen socks that are so practical during winter time.

Another big chapter in her life has been cooking; her specialty is making pies and traditional Greek pastry based on the very thin dough called “filo”. Making Greek traditional filo-based pastry is one of the skills I have gained from my grandmother Eftichía. “Galaktobureko” is one my favorites. It belongs to the category of syrup-filo pastry, similar to the famous world-wide baklava.

Stir in a bowl 160gr. of sugar, 80gr. of corn flour, 2 eggs and 6 egg yolks. Put in a pan 700gr. of milk, 300 gr. of crème fraiche and the seeds from a fresh vanilla branch. Bring this to boil. When boiling starts, pour the egg mixture slowly and stir constantly. This is the cream filling for the galaktobureko. For the syrup, mix 500 gr. of sugar with 80 gr. of water and bring to boil. This is the syrup to be poured (must let it be cool) over the warm galaktobureko. Now, melt 250 gr. of butter. The melted butter will be used for spreading it over each filo sheet. We need one package of filo. The pan that I use for the galaktobureko to put it in the oven is rectangular, 30x25 cm. Place one by one the filo sheets, after spreading on each of them the melted butter (use the special brush). Each filo package has about 12 filo sheets inside. Use 6 for the bottom part, then pour the cream and then cover it with the rest filo sheets. Spread butter onto the top filo sheet as well. Bake in a pre-heated oven (170°C for about 1 hour) until the filo gets a nice golden color. Once out of the oven, pour evenly the syrup. Enjoy!

Jo van Gaalen (1921)

Oma Jo

My grandmother is a very strong, independent and generous woman. She lives up to her statement that it’s best to be positive and things could always be worse. She makessure that I take good care of myself. When I was little she knitted sweaters and dolls for me. It was tradition that whenever I got a doll from someone, the doll got a name derived form the name of the giver. So, I ended up having a dozen of dolls all having a name that was based on my grandmothers’. When I grew older, she learned me how to knit, but I never managed to do it all the way from the start, so I still ask her to help me set up. Another important thing that she values, is to eat well and enjoy the process of making! One of her most famous dishes is her wonderful vegetable soup. It seemed to be always on the stove, and if not, she makes it in the blink of an eye if hungry visitors drop by.One of the sweetest dishes I learned from her are wentelteefjes (French toast). Take some slices of white bread that are a couple of days old, put them in a bowl with a mixture of milk and egg and let them soak for a few moments. Fry them until both sides are golden and sprinkle with sugar and cinnamon. (Why do they never taste exactly the same when I make them myself?) As you are busy frying them, tell your company stories. Not just things, this and that, but make a sketch of an extraordinary event that occurred. Describe the situation as if your company was there. In the picture, my grandmother was about the same age as I am now, and she lived inthe same neighbourhood as I. She has tons of stories about which grocery shops werethe right ones to go to. Some of them still exist! Around the corner there is a butcher to whom she used to bring rosemary from her garden, so he could season the chicken. Piet the Butcher still remembers and always asks me how she is doing.

Flora van Gaalen

Lena van Haaren-Kuster (1915-2001)

Oma Lena

My grandmother was a very kind person, always willing to help. Talking with her always helped to collect one’s thoughts. She read a lot, a thing I love to do as well, and therefore something we could talk about. She still had lots of children books from when my was little, and I would always hurry up the stairs to read them. When I look back it seems that whenever we visited my grandparents there always were family and friends in the house. The conversations were about all kinds of different subjects and sometimes even got a bit out of hand. That’s when my grandmother came in and made sure that peace was kept. I divided my time between romping around with my nephews and talking with the grown-ups. I remember the exiting atmosphere and the comfortable ambiance. An important part of that was created by my grandmother, always making sure everybody was ok, providing a drink and a bite and meanwhile participating in the conversation. My grandmother was very concerned for her loved ones, which she expressed through warnings, but often more subtly by cutting out newspaper articles of frightening events and making sure you saw them. This was sometimes a good trigger for rebelliousness from the side of the grandchildren! However she did the same for interesting subjects; a very attentive activity that underlined her interest in me. It is a habit that I adopted. I feel that in this digital era, some more analogue contact could do no harm! And although my friends call me ‘granny’ when I put some stuff down their mail box, I know they like it. My grandmother often did creative projects with us grandchildren. Not so much painting, but folding origami creatures and, wait now I know, folding muizentrappetjes (a sort of ministaircase for a mouse). They served as arms for paper puppets and gave drawings a three dimensional impact. It makes you wonder what we will do with our grandchildren. Play videogames and watch Sex and the City with them? Or dig up all the things we did with our grandmothers?

Flora van Gaalen