I have eaten bratwurst in Milwaukee, I’ve eaten bratwurst in Germany, I’ve eaten bratwurst in Switzerland. None of them can ever compare with the bratwurst that my little Aunt Minnie created. If I had my choice of lobster tail, filet mignon, or châteaubriand or a piece of Aunt Minnie’s bratwurst, there is absolutely no question, my choice would be the bratwurst.

After Aunt Minnie died, her grandson tried making her bratwurst. The flavors were all right, but there was something that wasn’t the same. His wife was quite heavy and I’m sure he tried to cut the fat content for her. Aunt Minnie was the perfect five by five and couldn’t have cared less about fat content.

My Mother always had a turkey dinner for Christmas. It, of course, was great. The piece-de-resistance, however, came a few days later when she had a turkey soup with small solid dumplings that she called schwimm-klosz, or floating dumplings. It was to die for. Next she served fluffy dumplings on which you put a kind of gravy that was full of turkey meat. We could never decide which was the most marvelous dish.

I also remember Mom’s cabbage rolls. I’ve had them in restaurants. I’ve tried making them myself. None of them can even approach hers.

There was the time Pop had taken on a small church in Suquamish, WA. There was a combined picnic for the people of his Seattle church and the people of the Suquamish church. An Indian man built a fire in the sand on the beach and surrounded it with rocks. When the rocks became sufficiently hot he lined the space with seaweed and poured in a lot of clams. He then covered them with seaweed and then with sand. He knew exactly how long to leave them. He then uncovered the clams and we were invited to eat them. Absolutely magnificent! He then wrapped a couple of large salmon in seaweed. Again he covered them with sand and allowed the heat from the rocks to cook the salmon to absolute perfection. I’ve never tasted such marvelous salmon since. Ivar’s Salmon House in Seattle and Blake Island Salmon House are good, but not the equal of that Indian’s artistry.

Another great meal was when my Dad’s church had a dinner. Pop would con Charlie Frye, who had one of the two large packing plants in Seattle, into contributing a couple of hams. He would then take them to Marbet’s Pioneer Bakery where they would cover them with rye dough. They would then roast them for hours in their big brick ovens. The hams were fantastic and the baked rye covering soaked in the ham juices was almost better than the ham. They also baked bread in those big brick ovens, the likes of which you’ll never find again, especially the pumpernickel and rye breads.

Oh, if there was only a way to duplicate those fantastic foods.