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July 16, 2004
A mint mist, a slow fan
Grandmother's Shabbat cucumber salad refreshes.
LISA J. SOLOMON SPECIAL TO THE JEWISH BULLETIN
Miami is hot. In the summer, even sometimes in the winter, the
air arches off the streets radiating heat circles that bend but
do not break as you walk though them, slowly, slowly.
My grandparents, Oma and Opa, bought an apartment in Miami Beach
that my family of eight piled into for visits. It was a small unit
with one bedroom and a galley kitchen emptying into a simply furnished
dining and living area. But the centre courtyard, where each of
these tiny apartments faced, was opened to the sky and bathed in
Florida sun. And the beach and the Atlantic Ocean were only two
lazy blocks away.
So when we got our driver's licences, my brothers and sisters and
I drove ourselves from our Atlanta home to Miami. Opa would find
us a little room close by so we could run around all day and night
and touch base for meals or chats in between. Oma, a fastidious
and controlled woman, loved our visits. Her serious and beautiful
face would break into a child's laugh when my sister and I shared
stories about the boys we met while strolling the beaches and dancing
at nightclubs. And Opa, a sparkling and wise man, managed to find
us once every day on the beach. From a distance, we would see him
coming, wearing his summer suit and beige cap and carrying a brown
paper bag holding our carefully prepared lunches of cold chicken,
homemade challah and light sugar cookies.
But for Saturday lunches, we came to them. Since they were Orthodox
and didn't use appliances on the Sabbath, Oma had an array of simple
but wonderful dishes she had prepared in advance to be eaten cold.
In the Miami heat, her cucumber dill salad was one of my favorites.
It was always served in a rectangular glass container with gold
flower foiling on the sides. The pale green slices were always perfectly
thin and even. And when we sat together around the dim unlit dining
table, sunburned and tired from the day before, her cool salad felt
like a mint mist, a slow fan. Outside their window, the palm leaves
baked yellow in the sun, but inside, eating pale green cucumber
circles with my Oma and Opa, I was filled by a moment where there
was nothing I'd rather do.
Oma's Cucumber Dill Salad
My grandmother marinated her cucumbers in distilled white vinegar,
but I replaced it with rice vinegar for a less sharp taste. She
also cooked with a very light hand when it came to spices, so play
with the seasonings until it is perfect and refreshing for you.
2 large cucumbers
(approx. 4 cups sliced)
2 tbsp rice vinegar
1 tbsp water
1/8 tsp salt
1/8 tsp sugar
pinch of white pepper
fresh dill (approx. 1-2 tbsp)
Peel skin off cucumbers and slice thinly. Arrange in long rectangular
sealable container. In small bowl, whisk vinegar, water, salt, sugar
and pepper. (Season to your taste, but don't add too much salt as
it draws liquid from the cucumbers.) Pour vinegar mixture over cucumbers
and mix well. Cut fresh dill and sprinkle over cucumbers. Close
container, toss to mix and refrigerate overnight to marinate. Toss
again before serving. Serves 5 as a side dish.
Lisa J. Solomon is a freelance writer living in Santa
Monica, Calif. Her food articles have been appeared in myriad publications,
including the Atlanta Journal Constitution, Vegetarian Times,
Washington Jewish Week, Canadian Jewish News, Atlanta Jewish Times
and others.
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