Baba Sophie’s Ukrainian Cookbook
Baba Sophie’s Ukrainian Cookbook
Some people are born with a silver spoon in their mouths. My mother, Sophie Marie (née Dubyk) Mutala, was born with a bag of flour in one hand and a Kaiser deck in the other. A bag of flour and a Kaiser deck*, two symbolic items that represent how my mother lived her life: hard work and enjoyment. Mom would have been thrilled to see her cookbook in print. Sophie loved to cook and took great pride in making delicious healthy meals. It was her passion, and she was an excellent cook. All these recipes have been tested and tried many times over the years. (Dedication, p. 3)
(*A Kaiser deck is a card game mom played all the time with her family. The deck has only 32 cards in it vs 52 for normal deck of cards. You try to take home the 5 of hearts and give away the three of spades. A very fun game.] (Explanation provided by Marion Mutala in response to an e-mail query sent to her by the reviewer.)
Baba Sophie’s Ukrainian Cookbook is the latest work in Marion Mutala’s series of “Baba’s Babushka” books. Each of the preceding five books has always concluded with traditional Ukrainian recipes which are thematically appropriate to the stories of Mutala’s grandparents, her dido (grandfather) and baba (grandmother). Like so many Ukrainians of the late 19th century, they immigrated to Canada and were pioneer farmers in Saskatchewan. Sophie, their third oldest child, was born in Canada in the final year of World War I, and she grew up during the great Depression, a particularly difficult time for farmers in Canada’s West. Although Sophie loved school and loved to read, like many women of her generation, the circumstances of the times undoubtedly made it impossible to continue her formal education beyond Grade 6. What she lacked in formal education was made up for by the practical knowledge of daily life:
she helped her mother bake bread, make perogies, wash clothes on a washboard, cut wood with her brother using a double-handled saw, fill mattresses with clean hay to sleep on, and make feather quilts. . . . She learned recipes for beautiful, fluffy buttermilk pancakes, flaky pie crusts, bread, and doughnuts and learned how to grow a bountiful garden. All this experience was put to good use later on when Sophie had to feed her own family. (p. 3)
Makes you feel tired just reading about it, doesn’t it? And, it definitely makes you hungry.
Sophie and her husband, August, raised 10 children on the family farm located in the area of Hanley/Kenaston, Saskatchewan (north of Saskatoon), and they truly lived off the land: a huge garden provided fresh produce (which would be enjoyed fresh, pickled, or stored), their poultry and livestock provided eggs, meat, and dairy products. “Pin money” bought staples like sugar, tea, spices, and any pantry or grocery item which the family farm didn’t produce. “Store-bought bread” was a “treat” (an unbelievable idea for anyone who really enjoys homemade bread, but I suppose that it was the novelty of the product), and “farm to table” was an everyday event and not a dining excursion, as it is now. Like many Ukrainian ladies of her time and place, Sophie was “Queen of her Kitchen” and at times would take over your kitchen and make a batch of perogies (pyrohy or varenyky).” (p. 3) These super-cooks fed not only their families, but, also, their community. They were the mainstay of events like community and church suppers, bridal showers, post-funeral lunches, wedding receptions and the post-wedding get-together the day after a Ukrainian wedding, the popravinnia (as if people haven’t already had enough to eat).
A word of explanation: in the Ukrainian language, the word “baba” means “grandmother”, although it is sometimes used as a synonym for an “elderly woman”. However, not all ladies of a certain age are grandmothers, so from now on in the review, I will refer to Sophie as “Pani Sophie”. “Pani” is a polite and respectful term of address in Ukrainian, much like “Madame” in French.
This collection packs more than 200 of Pani Sophie’s recipes into 80 pages. Each page of recipes is embellished with a multi-coloured border of geometric design resembling “vyshyvanya”, the cross-stitch embroidery which decorates Ukrainian clothing and textile items. Following the “Title Page” and Mutala’s heartfelt “Dedication” is a colour photo of a bowl of ruby-red borscht with a few pieces of bannock on the side. The page is titled “In the Spirit of Truth and Reconciliation”, and, rather oddly, it precedes the “Table of Contents”. Each category is prefaced by a colour photo appropriate to that grouping of recipes: “Ukrainian Specialties” features a “korovai”, the traditional wedding bread; “Breads” has a photo of an absolutely perfect paska for Easter; “Main Courses” tempts with a plate of onion-garnished perogies; “Desserts” presents two-perfectly-formed poppy seed and walnut rolls; “Beverages” provides a cinnamon-stick-accented glass of eggnog to enjoy while wrapping Christmas presents; “Canning & Preservatives” shows sauerkraut being packed into a sealer jar; and “Miscellaneous” has colourful pieces of home-made playdough.
On the page opposite the colour photo dividers, I think that it would have been helpful to indicate the name of the food item presented in the picture as well as the page on which its recipe can be found. The photos in the dividers do not always correspond exactly with the recipes in a given category. For example, the recipe for the paska in the “Breads” category divider is actually found in the “Ukrainian Specialities” section as was the case with the poppy seed and walnut rolls. I appreciated Mutala’s providing the alternate names for “perogies”; in western Ukraine, the dumplings are called “pyrohy”, but, throughout Ukraine, they are also known as “varenyky”. I was surprised that the Ukrainian names were not provided for other items: “Rosettes” are the light-as-air “khrustyky”; “Butter Horns” (in the “Breads” section) are “rohalyky”; and “Poppy Seed” yeast rolls are “makiwnyk”.
The “Desserts” section contains the largest number of recipes: a cook of Sophie’s caliber would always have something sweet on hand for unexpected visitors, hungry kids (and later, grandkids), and just to complete the meal at the end of a day of hard work. Pies, fruit crisps and crunches, squares (when served at church teas and bridal showers, these are called “dainties”), cakes, and the icings to top them, fill the pages of that section. And the cookies! Many of them took me straight back to childhood: Ginger Snaps, Hermits, Scuffles, as well as classics like Oatmeal and Chocolate Chip. All are made with butter (no margarine, please), white or brown sugar (no Splenda™, thank you), and the knowledge that nothing beats a home-baked treat. Also very nostalgic were Pani Sophie’s directions for preparing pans used for baking Christmas Cake and White Fruit Cake. At Christmas, as a junior baker, my job was to line the metal cake tins with brown paper (from grocery bags) and then, to grease the papers with the wrappers from one-pound blocks of butter.
The recipes’ format also took me back in time. Full disclosure: I am the “project manager” for a commemorative cookbook to be published by a Ukrainian church women’s group, and, in the past few months, I have perused many church and community cookbooks as background research. Farm wives and church ladies really know how to cook, and, having cooked for decades, they don’t need extensive directions for recipes that are “tested and tried many times over the years.” (p. 3) Regrettably, many of Pani Sophie’s recipes lack necessary details. The size of baking pans or other cooking vessels are either vague or not always provided because, undoubtedly, Pani Sophie knew which pan she used for many of her stand-bys. For some recipes, crucial information has been left out: perogy dough must be allowed to rest for an hour (covered) before being rolled, and the mashed potatoes used for filling must be made the day before in order for residual water to dry out. I recognize that women of Pani Sophie’s abilities were geniuses at kitchen improv, but with many recipes – especially baking – improv is not an option, especially for novice and/or junior bakers. Another thing that struck me as unusual was the name of the section which offered recipes for canning and preserves. Why was it called “Canning & Preservatives”, especially when the Dedication points out that Pani Sophie’s table served up “everything . . . natural; no preservatives added, just good, tasty, healthy food” (p. 3)?
I know that the food cooked up from these recipes will be hearty, healthy, and so tasty. Pani Sophie’s ingredients couldn’t have been fresher, and anyone who baked items calling for 16 cups (approximately 4 pounds) of flour could feed plenty.
Baba Sophie’s Ukrainian Cookbook is a nostalgic tribute, not only to a much-loved grandmother, but also an homage to those women who kept families, friends, and communities well-fed and dismissive of caloric intake. If you really know how to cook – because you’ve learned hands-on, in your mom’s or baba’s kitchen – you might be successful with some of Pani Sophie’s recipes. But, without practical experience or innate skill, you may be disappointed with the results of trying some of these recipes.
The current war in Ukraine has led many later-generation Canadians of Ukrainian heritage to re-connect with their roots and learn to cook the comfort foods made by their babas, mamas, or aunties. The other stories of the “Baba’s Babushka” series told of magical adventures, travelling back in time, and this collection of recipes reflects cooking as it was in a very different time in rural Saskatchewan. Elementary school libraries and resource collections in schools which offer Ukrainian language programing and public libraries serving communities with significant Ukrainian-Canadian populations may want to purchase the book. However, purchasers should be aware that Baba Sophie’s Ukrainian Cookbook is an old-school, home-style collection, different from contemporary cookbooks.
Joanne Peters, a retired teacher-librarian (and Ukrainian church lady who would have loved to have met Pani Sophie), lives in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Treaty 1 Territory, and Homeland of the Métis people.