In another strange turn of events, noted highbrow Gil Student (who today offended the blogosphere gods by hat-tipping someone else for the kugel article) revealed that he married a uncultured peasant girl:
As to the variety of kugels now available, this might be my distant Polish heritage speaking but in my book there is only one kind of kugel -- potato. Everything else is a poor imitation. And my wife's homemade, hand-grated potato kugel is better than anything you can buy.To this I reply with a resounding sniff. In case you missed it here it is again: SNIFF.
Mrs. DovBear doesn't make potato kugel, not because she lacks love or because she lacks energy, but because she was raised by caring and conscientious oberlanders [city Jews] who taught her to avoid unterlanders [country Jews] together with their culinary monstrosities.
I had the same sort of upbringing. And though I regard p'cheh, and lungin in the way you might think about southern fired or collared greens, I'll occaisonally go slumming and nab an oily chunk of the baked potato paste at a kiddush -- but only if my kids aren't looking. I am a man, after all, and men are weak.
