After my mother Ellie passed away, I became overwhelmed by the daunting task of making the holiday magic. Without her, I had to carry on the family traditions but I wasn’t entirely clear what our traditions even were. The only memory branded in my brain was to remain flexible because one never knew who would be at our table and what sort of food we might be eating. Most of our holidays were spent at my mother’s best friend’s house. They were German, so we adopted celebrating Nicolaus and making beef Rouladin on Christmas Eve. But the truth was, those were not our traditions. 

Whether a guest at someone’s home or hosting her own party, my mother was bigger than life. Not only was she six feet tall with legs up to there and a twinkle in her eye, everything she did had a certain magical quality to it. She had a wicked sense of humor and a laugh that could get the party rolling. She also had the gift of making everyone feel important. At her funeral, I found it interesting that at least ten women whom I had never met told me they were Ellie’s best friend. When guests came to our home they walked into a warm and welcoming ambiance—cocktails flowed, fresh flowers in vases, platters with cheeses and crackers, music playing and candles lit. For most of my life, we rented a tiny cottage with only one bathroom on a grand estate located on the North Shore of Long Island. She had the ability to turn even the most rudimentary setting into a fancy soiree. In my final years of college, we purchased our first home in Stamford, Connecticut and there my mother entertained with reckless abandon. Ellie was a flirt but never threatening to other women. It was her way of making everyone feel welcomed. When she spoke to her guests, it was as if they were the only person in the room.

Ellie prepared for parties well in advance, and I loved to be her helper. She often asked my advice when choosing an outfit or which accessories to wear. It occurred to me that my own three sons are my fashion advisors and learned at a young age never to say “you look fine” (because that was not a compliment) and to not touch a woman’s hair until after the party. Two things I learned from her which I inadvertently passed onto my children. My mother could throw on a pair of jeans, a bright colored silk blouse, flat sandals and a spritz of perfume and greet her guests with effortless elegance. Throughout the years, she built a successful career as a headhunter and even became the first female partner at an executive search firm in New York City. She was not adept at remembering names and in that sort of business someone with only the utmost of grace could get away with such challenges. She read people like no one I have ever known, and this was the gift which brought her much success in both her career and in entertaining. She would seat the most unlikely people together, and I’d cringe and the possible disaster only to find them bantering and having a grand time. One Thanksgiving we had a master violinist as our guest. He brought two violins—one was his everyday violin and the other a million dollar Stradivarius. We were told to close our eyes while he played each instrument and then guess which sounded like the prized violin. This is a great example of the sort of interesting and eclectic type of people I had the distinct privilege of meeting through my beloved mother.

My mother’s greatest magic happened when she entertained. The food was secondary to the table setting, flowers, ambiance and the warm way she welcomed her guests. She could turn a can of Campbell’s tomato soup into a gourmet meal with a drizzle of sherry, a dollop of sour cream, and a few croutons tossed on top. She taught me to cook with my heart and to trust my instinct. I’d describe her as more of a whirlwind than a patient, quiet chef. When she blurted out, “I’m going to whip up some dinner,” she meant it. This skill came in handy when I became a mother and had three hungry boys asking me what was for dinner. I learned to peruse the fridge, the dry cabinet, and the freezer and make something pretty tasty in a flash. 

Before her guests arrived, Mom would send me outside to pick flowers and leafy branches from the yard. We’d make arrangements in tiny orange juice glasses to decorate the table. It was okay if the plates and napkins didn’t match because it was more eclectic and fun. My mother could stretch a meal to serve unexpected eaters, and she did it with a heartfelt smile. 

By my mother’s side was my happy place, so I gladly took the role of her assistant. She loved to serve appetizers during cocktail hour. A block of cream cheese, mixed with chutney, curry, and topped with slivered almonds then served with crackers made a yummy appetizer. More importantly, it looked fancy which was always a bonus in my mother’s eyes. I’d say, I’m a decent cook but because of my mom, I’m a great entertainer. More than cooking lessons, she passed on to me a joy of entertaining and to do so with elegance and heartfelt warmth. For this, I am grateful beyond measure.

Recipe:

Deep Dish Apple Pie
Fresh apples
Sugar
Flour
Cinnamon
Butter

Cut up apples, slice, peel and core. Put a layer of apples in a baking dish, sprinkle with cinnamon and sugar, another layer of apples, another layer of cinnamon and sugar. Put a tiny amount of water in the bottom of the dish.

Topping: 1 cup of flour, 1 cup of sugar, 1 stick of butter. Mix together and pour on top. 

Bake at 350 degrees until brown and bubbly, approximately one hour.

Chutney Cheese Canape – serves 12

8 oz cream cheese
¼ cup chutney
1 tsp curry powder
toasted almonds

Blend all ingredients well. Chill for at least 4 hours. Top with toasted almonds. Serve with crackers and may be made a day in advance.