Searching for Ghosts of Christmas Past

I'm probably doing what a lot of people are probably doing all over the country--all over the world, I'd bet: trying to keep the spirit and tradition alive. I wrote a lot about tradition during Thanksgiving, but I'd bet that Christmas traditions (insert appropriate religious holiday here) are more sacred. For me, it's trying to recreate Mushroom Soup of Christmas Past. More specifically, trying to make Frederic Grudzien's Mushroom Soup.

While I knew Cyndi's grandfather before he died, I never got the opportunity to eat his food. By the time I entered the family, Dziadek (pronounced Jah-jah, as the kids know him by), had already passed on his traditions to his children. Legend has it, the man could cook. And eat. He made his own pickles, he made his own wine, and with his wife by his side, he hand rolled Pierogies. And of course, he made Mushroom Soup.

The recipe is actually pretty simple. At least the one that has passed from Cyndi's cousin to us:

• 48 oz of Chicken Broth


• 1/2 teaspoon of nutmeg


• 1/4 teaspoon of Cheyenne pepper


• 22 oz of Coffeemate


• 4 pounds of mushrooms

Mix all of the ingredients in order and boil for five minutes.

That's it. A child can follow that recipe. I've done it every year for the past five or six. And I've done a pretty good job, considering. I am told Dziadek used to pick wild mushrooms for his soup, and he used to hand slice every one of them. I just spent $20 on store bought mushrooms, and I used an electric salad shooter to slice them. It's the same thing I've done every year, without major fail. This year, however, I thought I'd try something different. I used liquid creamer in place of the powdered kind. My thinking: it will be creamier. Ha!

Just as I was mixing the ingredients in the pot, Cyndi said, jokingly, "My grandfather is probably rolling over in his grave." The joke is on me, I guess, because he's not only rolling, he's shouting, "Stop the world, I want to get off!"

When Cyndi and I first started dating, she tried making my grandmother's chocolate chip cookies. She wanted to please me, because I lamented about missing the treat. My mother gave her the recipe, and Cyndi insisted on specifically following it. She even went so far as to use the "Baubie Spoon," which was left behind in my mother's cabinet after my grandmother passed away. The result of the effort was an exact duplicate. I thought my grandmother was actually in the room as I enjoyed the crunchy and chocolaty goodness. I was pleased. Cyndi was pleased. A tradition lived on. So we thought. It's been almost 15 years and Cyndi has never been able to duplicate the effort. She tries and tries and tries, but they either come out too thin or too soft. I appreciate the attempts, but they are not my grandmother's cookie.

Friday, we will not be enjoying Frederic Grudzien's Mushroom Soup. Cyndi is trying to fix my mess. She's adding powered cream to the concoction, and may try adding some flour, as well. I can't stomach paying another $20 for mushrooms, and I am left wondering what happened to the four pounds I sliced, because they don't appear to be in the pot anymore. I didn't know you could boil mushrooms into nothing.

Some traditions should be left to the experts. I've found one...