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 similar—but not quite the same—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.


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.