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On Sabbath we didn’t go to school. On ‘Noches de Shabbat’ we would go bring oil to the synagogue. [Editor’s note: Sephardim pour oil in a big bowl standing in front of the tevah. There is a wick in the middle of the bowl which is lit and its light is preserved by adding oil.]
This was the most important. Every Friday my mother would give me a big glass of oil to go to the Cal. She was saying to me ‘Mairy, please, mucho regalada mia, tu sos fija mia, regalada [Judeo-Spanish: ‘My everything, my beloved one, my daughter, my beloved one’], go and put oil and say: ‘Salu buena a papa, salu buena a mama, salu buena para todos los fijos, y el Dio que te de ganas para comer.’ [Judeo-Spanish: Good health to the father, good health to the mother, good health to all the children, and may God give you appetite to eat.] As for the latter, ‘Esto no te lo vo disir,’ [Judeo-Spanish: ‘This, I will not say’] was my answer.
I always had poor appetite. My mother kept asking me why I was torturing her. They gave me injections because I wasn’t eating. And my father, whose darling I was, was worried. But men went to work all day long. It was my mother that had to deal with my feeding and she was suffering because of me.
Then we came back from the synagogue, dressed in our best clothes and sat down at the table. If we had ‘mousafiris’ [Turkish: misafir: guest] he sat with us. On Sabbath, but also at every other dinner, my father wanted all the family seated around the table.
Usually he would come a little bit earlier, and he drank ouzo first. He would ask me to sit with him and drink. Only me he wanted to share him company, nobody else. My mother prepared for him ‘usicos.’ We very much liked ‘wuevesicos en haminados’ [Sephardic recipe of preparing hard boiled eggs; baked eggs in onion leaves]. My mother would also prepare bread with caviar, baked bread with cheese, ‘kefticas de patata’ [Judeo-Spanish: meatballs with potato]. I remember tasting them all. My father was insisting that, since I was drinking ouzo, I had to eat something.
We placed a big candle on the table. My father would recite the Kiddush. We all ate nicely together. The first classical plate for ‘Noches de Shabbat’ was fried mullet fish. Then we ate whatever my mother had cooked. My mother was an excellent cook. She made okras, peas and ‘kefticas de pouero’ [Judeo-Spanish: meatballs with leek], which I liked very much. Later on I cooked them, too. She cut the leek and boiled it. Then she smashed it in the ‘machina.’
Because we didn’t had mixer back then, my mother had a machine to cut the meat. Then she squeezed the leek very hard to dry and added the chopped meat and eggs and fried it. They were delicious. I ate one or two. The others ate many. Everybody ate a lot; I was the only one who caused difficulties when it came to food.
My younger brother, Isidor, on Saturday morning, when he woke up, wanted to eat beans. We usually had beans on Friday for lunch, but he was asking for them on Saturday morning. Usually on Saturday morning we ate ‘pasteliko,’ pie with spinach and cheese, and cake. My mother made a lot of cakes.
The Sabbath sweet was ‘tupishti’ [also called ‘pispiti’ by Romaniotes: a kind of cake with almonds or nuts usually with syrup]. My oldest brother Alberto liked it very much. So my mother made a portion especially for him. He was sleeping in the room that Nona [Grandmother] Mirou used to sleep in.
My mother was putting Alberto’s portion of ‘tupishti’ in his room, on the bedside table that used to belong to Nona Mirou. Isidor secretly went to the drawer taking his eldest brother’s pieces. When Alberto didn’t find his sweet on his drawer he would ask my mother where it had gone.
Then my mother would tell Isidor: ‘A Dio Isidor [Judeo-Spanish: Oh my God, Isidor] you ate it fijo’ [Judeo-Spanish: son]. Then Isidor was complaining that he could have ‘tupishti’ only on Sabbath while his brother had it for the whole week.
On Sabbath day my mother met up with friends. Either they would come to our house or my mother would go to theirs. I spent the day reading. On Saturday night, after Sabbath, I would go to Alcazar Cinema with my friends. The cinema owners were Jews.
This was the most important. Every Friday my mother would give me a big glass of oil to go to the Cal. She was saying to me ‘Mairy, please, mucho regalada mia, tu sos fija mia, regalada [Judeo-Spanish: ‘My everything, my beloved one, my daughter, my beloved one’], go and put oil and say: ‘Salu buena a papa, salu buena a mama, salu buena para todos los fijos, y el Dio que te de ganas para comer.’ [Judeo-Spanish: Good health to the father, good health to the mother, good health to all the children, and may God give you appetite to eat.] As for the latter, ‘Esto no te lo vo disir,’ [Judeo-Spanish: ‘This, I will not say’] was my answer.
I always had poor appetite. My mother kept asking me why I was torturing her. They gave me injections because I wasn’t eating. And my father, whose darling I was, was worried. But men went to work all day long. It was my mother that had to deal with my feeding and she was suffering because of me.
Then we came back from the synagogue, dressed in our best clothes and sat down at the table. If we had ‘mousafiris’ [Turkish: misafir: guest] he sat with us. On Sabbath, but also at every other dinner, my father wanted all the family seated around the table.
Usually he would come a little bit earlier, and he drank ouzo first. He would ask me to sit with him and drink. Only me he wanted to share him company, nobody else. My mother prepared for him ‘usicos.’ We very much liked ‘wuevesicos en haminados’ [Sephardic recipe of preparing hard boiled eggs; baked eggs in onion leaves]. My mother would also prepare bread with caviar, baked bread with cheese, ‘kefticas de patata’ [Judeo-Spanish: meatballs with potato]. I remember tasting them all. My father was insisting that, since I was drinking ouzo, I had to eat something.
We placed a big candle on the table. My father would recite the Kiddush. We all ate nicely together. The first classical plate for ‘Noches de Shabbat’ was fried mullet fish. Then we ate whatever my mother had cooked. My mother was an excellent cook. She made okras, peas and ‘kefticas de pouero’ [Judeo-Spanish: meatballs with leek], which I liked very much. Later on I cooked them, too. She cut the leek and boiled it. Then she smashed it in the ‘machina.’
Because we didn’t had mixer back then, my mother had a machine to cut the meat. Then she squeezed the leek very hard to dry and added the chopped meat and eggs and fried it. They were delicious. I ate one or two. The others ate many. Everybody ate a lot; I was the only one who caused difficulties when it came to food.
My younger brother, Isidor, on Saturday morning, when he woke up, wanted to eat beans. We usually had beans on Friday for lunch, but he was asking for them on Saturday morning. Usually on Saturday morning we ate ‘pasteliko,’ pie with spinach and cheese, and cake. My mother made a lot of cakes.
The Sabbath sweet was ‘tupishti’ [also called ‘pispiti’ by Romaniotes: a kind of cake with almonds or nuts usually with syrup]. My oldest brother Alberto liked it very much. So my mother made a portion especially for him. He was sleeping in the room that Nona [Grandmother] Mirou used to sleep in.
My mother was putting Alberto’s portion of ‘tupishti’ in his room, on the bedside table that used to belong to Nona Mirou. Isidor secretly went to the drawer taking his eldest brother’s pieces. When Alberto didn’t find his sweet on his drawer he would ask my mother where it had gone.
Then my mother would tell Isidor: ‘A Dio Isidor [Judeo-Spanish: Oh my God, Isidor] you ate it fijo’ [Judeo-Spanish: son]. Then Isidor was complaining that he could have ‘tupishti’ only on Sabbath while his brother had it for the whole week.
On Sabbath day my mother met up with friends. Either they would come to our house or my mother would go to theirs. I spent the day reading. On Saturday night, after Sabbath, I would go to Alcazar Cinema with my friends. The cinema owners were Jews.
Period
Interview
Mirou-Mairy Angel