I don’t know if you guys remember this post, the one in which I bemoan the lost family recipe of kichel. It was a treat my great-grandmother made that my mom adored. And I wanted to make it. Problem was, the recipe was nowhere to be found.

My mom bought bakery goods that were similarā€”but not quite the sameā€”for me to taste so she could describe it better (“Like this, but flakier. Better.”). She asked relatives from London to Louisiana if any of them remembered the recipe. I Googled it. Turns out kichel is a term that describes many desserts, not one of which was the one I was looking for. I searched online Jewish (and other) cookbooks for the recipe. I posted in my genealogy forums to see if anyone else had heard of it. No luck. I tried the kindlech recipe, which was declared “not it.”

I resigned myself that this recipe would be gone forever. Some things, in the world of genealogy, simply can’t be recovered.

Except.

On this last trip to Miami Beach, I was standing in the kitchen, waiting for my toast to pop. With nothing better to do, I pulled down my mom’s old cookbook, the one in which she keeps her newspaper-clipped recipes, the handwritten recipes, the recipe cards from labels of products. And flipping through, what do I find?

Lo and behold. It’s kichel. The long-lost recipe. And in my mother’s handwriting, no less!

My mother swears she has no memory of having the recipe. I believe her. She is famous for her poor memory.

And I look forward to our next cold, shut-in day, because you can sure as heck know that I’m going to bake this. I’ll be sure to post the results when I do.