We moved from Elizabeth to Iselin when I was nine years old. My father’s family were shocked that we were moving to the “country.” To them, it was the country because they all lived within a three-block radius. Most never left their neighborhoods.
My parents put in an offer on a house in “the neighborhood.” Houses didn’t come on the market that often since no one left, but their offer was rejected. I don’t know if that was true or the excuse they used to move away.
Iselin back in the early 70s wasn’t actually the country, However, the spot where “Metro Park” is now was a farm. Hard to believe! I remember my parents taking me to that farm for a pony ride. I’m not sure if it was a pony or a horse, but I did know his name was popcorn.
A year later the farmer, became a very rich farmer, maybe a millionaire when he sold his property.
Metro Park is one of the busiest train stops for NJ Transit & Amtrack. It was built up and became overcrowded overnight. Dozens of office buildings, hotels, and other businesses are located in Metro Park as well.
At our new house, we lived next door to a widow named Annie Farkas. Our house was a cape cod style, and hers was a bungalow.
Annie was the first adult outside my parent’s circle that told me to stop calling her Mrs. Farkas! “Just call me Annie,” she told me.
Annie became a special person in my life. I didn’t realize how important she really was until I was an adult.
Annie was a Hungarian woman with dyed reddish-brown hair and a loud, almost piercing voice. She must have been hard of hearing, but it never bothered me. I could hear her call to me easily when I was outside playing.
Annie was a fantastic cook. There was always delicious smells coming from her back door.
When she called me in the yard, she would ask if I wanted to help her in the kitchen. There was no gate to her yard, so I had to go through the house and out the front door.
I would tell not really ask my mother that was going over to Annie’s to help her. She never said no. If she knew how much I loved going over there it could have been used as something to take away when I was punished. I was a smart cookie and didn’t tell her that Annie was teaching me to how to cook.
Annie had me pullover a kitchen chair so that I could see. I would watch everything she was doing and she let me help.
I always wanted to help when my dad did projects around the house. I would ask him, “daddy can I help?” and he always replied, “nope this is a one-man job.” It really hurt my feelings and could never figure out why I wasn’t allowed to help.
At Annie’s house, I learned how to make soups, casseroles, pierogies, stuffed cabbage, stuffed peppers, and all kinds of other things.
At Easter, Annie asked my parents if I could go to her Hungarian church in Perth Amboy and help the ladies prepare food. This was work to my mother, not fun, so of course, I was allowed to go.
I remember Annie’s little blue and white car stuffed with brown grocery bags and dozens of aluminum, disposable pans.
When we got to the parish building I helped Annie bring in all the supplies. I had no idea what we would be making, I was so excited!
When we walked in, all the old ladies stopped what they were doing and looked at me. They smiled and went back to work.
In the mind of a 9-year-old girl, it seemed like there were 100 women all sitting down at long tables making stuffed cabbage and pierogies. I wondered what I would be doing.
Annie sat me down and got me set up. First, she had me work in the stuffed cabbage section. Everyone was speaking Hungarian while working, I was concentrating so it didn’t matter.
I felt shy at first, afraid to mess up. Ah, but then I started picking up speed. A couple of ladies looked at me and called over to Annie. I didn’t know what they were saying. I started to panic. Then I saw Annie smile and wink at me. They told her I was a “ chip off the old block.” they thought that I was her granddaughter.
Later, I helped at the pierogies section. My small fingers had no trouble filling and closing up my pierogies. At the end of the day, there were mountains of food placed in take-out style aluminum containers. I had no idea who would be eating it all.
It was a great day! It was at this point that not knowing my nationalities since I was adopted began to bother me. Sitting with all those Hungarian women made me feel like I was part of a nationality. (I am not Hungarian I found out since.)
When we got back Annie told me to wait a second before I went home. She went to her house and she came out with her small Hungarian cookbook from the church. She gave it to me so I could remember how to make the stuffed cabbage when I was older.
As we settled into our new town I begin making friends, joined the cheerleading squad, rode my bike everywhere. I wasn’t home as much anymore. During that point, Annie got older and wasn’t cooking as much anymore. Then I became a teenager and waved over the fence when I saw her. Every once in a while, I would stop by to say hi.
I think she passed away when I was in my late teens or early 20s. I actually remember taking her death pretty hard but did not go to her wake or funeral…I found out about her death afterward.
Yesterday in the production kitchen, I was trying to decide what I would make for dinner this weekend. It shocked the shit out of me that Marty said, “Why don’t you make stuffed cabbage?” What? I didn’t even think that he liked my stuffed cabbage. After making some deliveries, I stopped and picked up the ingredients and started making my stuffed cabbage early this morning.
You will see from the demo photos I’ve included steps that I have added over the years. Annie’s recipe is concise and sweet. I think they expect you to know already how to cook.
I got out Annie’s cookbook, stained from my use, and looked at the recipe. I noticed that the recipe had no quantities for any of the seasonings. It was just all to your taste. I even added more tomato sauce to my recipe because I liked a lot of sauce. I eyeballed the recipe just like she did and said a little prayer to her. Writing this blog post made me realized that Annie was the first person who not only taught me how to cook but let me!!!
Yes, this blog post made me cry.
Annie’s Stuffed Cabbage
1 lb chopped beef and pork
1 cup long grain rice soaked and drained
1 medium onion chopped and sautéed in 1 Tbsp butter or lard
1 14 oz can sauerkraut
1 28 oz can tomato sauce or puree
1 medium head of cabbage
Salt, pepper & paprika to taste
Core the head of cabbage and parboil it. Mix the first four ingredients in bowl. Take one cabbage leaf at a time, cut off heavy vein. Fill leaf with 2 Tbsp mixed ingredients and roll loosely. Fold one side of leaf as you roll and tuck in other with finger.
Put cabbage rolls in deep pot lined with sauerkraut. Place in pot folded side down. Pour on tomatoes and enough boiling water to cover. Cook for an hour or until rice is tender.
Some folks put sauerkraut on top also, or shred remaining cabbage and put on top cabbage rolls; others omit sauerkraut entirely.
Fantastic. A chance meeting, a willingness to teach accompanied by a willingness to learn lead to a lifetime love of cooking. Somebody get me a kleenex.