Taste of Memories

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Magyarul

Home
Recipes
About
- My story
- FAQ
- Contact
Friends
Magyarul

About me
FAQ
Friends
Magyar oldal
Recipes

Taste of Memories

Home
Recipes
About
- My story
- FAQ
- Contact
Friends
Magyarul

About me
FAQ
Friends
Magyar oldal
Recipes

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Starters

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One year ago, on a nice sunny day a carpenter was

One year ago, on a nice sunny day a carpenter was working in our kitchen, to build in a couple of new shelves. Ábel and I were in the middle of our usual daily routine with a toddler: noisy and quiet at the same time, without any apparent accomplishment, but always busy with something without stopping.

Suddenly the carpenter came in and told me that our outdoor plug didn’t work and he needed it for a machine to cut the shelf. I was following him into the garden with Ábel in my arms, when a DHL van stopped in front of our house.
‘Hi, I have a package for you’, he said.
I frowned.
‘ I don’t expect any package’
‘It’s for you though…from Germany. Quite heavy, I must say. There must be some fabric inside. The sender is some…what…Coppenrath Verlag….
‘Oh my God, this is my book, the book, I wrote!’, I exclaimed in euphoria, took the carton box and ran directly to the house with Ábel, leaving behind the shocked carpenter, and forgetting completely about the plug.
Ábel took the first one into his hand. I took the second. Later in the afternoon the third one landed in the hands of my grandmother, one of the three wonderful woman who inspired me to write this book.

Two pair of hands with 89 years difference in age holding my cookbook.

My grandmother’s whose hands were pulling or rolling out hundreds of strudels, plucked chickens, cooked litres and litres of chicken broth, weeded the kitchen garden and set the table with the beautiful porcelain dishes from Zsolnay porcelain manufacture. Those hands worked hard, caressed a lot and their owner was my greatest supporter of collecting and working up the old recipes of her generation in the recent years on the blog Taste of Memories…..( continues in the comments)
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. #tasteofmemories #emlekekize #cookbook #hungariancuisine #mycookingjourney #mycookbook #mycookbookforyou #grandmotherlove❤️ #slowliving #rurallife #foodblog #swabianheritage #swabianfood #collectmemoriesnotthings #hungary

Dear Friends, I imagined writing, photographing a

My passion for books started around the time I lea

My passion for books started around the time I learnt how to read. I loved touching their spine, take them off the shelf, and smell them. I would spend hours in the library, browsing in the paper-based catalogue and enjoying being in silence surrounded by books.
At the age of 10 I already knew that I want to be a writer because I believed that having my name written on a book cover is the evidence of a fulfilled and happy life.
My parents on the other hand believed that I am a dreamer, and tried to pull me back to the ground. And as a good kid I really did my best to set “realistic” goals for myself.
After graduation I was working on building a career, little by little climbing up the corporate ladder. When I felt stifled because of the life I was leading I went to a bookshop and I could immediately breathe more easily. To make myself long workdays bearable, I always had a cookbook in my bag. Not because I had time for reading - not at all - but that wasn’t important. Only knowing that it was there calmed me down. It was the reminder of what I truly desire, because at that time I had already deeply and passionately fallen in love with cooking. ‘Mom, the truth is, that I want to be a cook’, I have confessed to my mum during a long walk in the forest. She sighed and answered as softly as she could:
‘Honey, it is such a tough job…’
Despite of her worries, soon I got my degree in culinary arts and the old dream started to get in shape more. I wanted to write a cookbook, include recipes and stories, but I wasn’t sure about which cuisine and what kind of stories. So I tried to absorb as much knowledge as I could. I studied, travelled, listened and collected memories and finally came to arrive to the place where my journey started, to the village where my grandmother was born. I started my blog, Taste of Memories and after the long road I felt myself in place.
And now I am able to hold my own cookbook in my hand, which has been published by @hoelkerverlag in Germany.
Honestly, I don’t find the right words to express how I feel about it. I just cannot stop thinking about that there is a book with my name written on it that I can hold, open, and smell.
My own book.

Hello dear friends, here I am to finally break th

Hello dear friends,
here I am to finally break the silence! :-) Although I don’t seem to be active on Taste of Memories blog and feed, in the meantime I have been working on a few very exciting and heartwarming projects, which I am going to reveal to you soon. :)

In the last 1,5 years, since our son was born, my priority was to collect memories of the intangible moments of happiness, of significant and seemingly minor but unforgettable milestones. I try to memorize everything to be able to remember and to tell the stories, and more often than not time seems to be accelerated and it feels like a slap in the face how quickly our days pass by, as sand is pouring through one’s fingers.
Due to the lack of sleep I often spend my days in a state of delirium while trying to get to know the new “me”, the woman, who I have become being a mother. Slowly I get to deeply understand that real freedom doesn’t mean the lack of constraints but rather the perseverance in our choices.

In the meantime I turned 40, I learnt how to sleep anytime and anywhere, somebody said the word “mom” to me (and in this case, I am the mom!) and two of my big dreams connected to Taste of Memories are slowly getting shape.
However, some things still haven’t changed. The rays of sun still magically light up the Bakony hills. Our dog, Beeper is still keen on fallen apples, our cat, Gata still considers herself as self-contained, although she runs for the first call, and only slows her last few steps down, when she realises that she has behaved herself way too obedient for a cat.
As for me, I still want to cook and bake, more and better even if this desire is highly limited due to circumstances. Because sometimes, if somebody takes my hand, calls me “mom”, pulls me down to the carpet, pats the spot next to him and brings a storybook, well… then the coffee will cool down, the milk bread will over-proofed and scone baking will be postponed. And the world seems to stop for a while…

I am going to share some exiting news with you soon, stay tuned!
Until then I am sending you sunny greetings from the Bakony hills.

Lots of love
Judit Photo by my wonderful friend @meliegyed

For me Christmas is not over until we say good bye

For me Christmas is not over until we say good bye to our Christmas tree in January which is always a painful moment for me every year. ⁠
If we are lucky enough (actually if we WERE because there is very low probability) we still have a few Christmas linzer cookie left that we can grab for a little comfort, I secretly listen to a few Christmas carols, when nobody hears me and slowly pack the ornaments and the gifts left under the tree, among which were some extraordinary pieces this year- perfectly suitable for a 4 months old… (I wrote about the new chapter of our life in my last blog post)⁠
If you are like me and longing for after-holiday mood- and reside in Hungary- I can recommend you an interview with me which appeared in VinCE magazin (Central European wine magazin, Hungarian issue) alongside with some Taste of Memories recipe classics.⁠
Have a wonderful day! ⁠
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