“Buberts” from grandmother’s wartime refugee cookbook (Andris Valdmanis)

Andris prepared buberts together with his four-year-old son Māris, using a recipe from his grandmother’s wartime-refugee cookbook, so there would be something tasty ready when little brother Lauris woke up from his nap. Before long, Lauris was awake, and both brothers eagerly prepared to enjoy the freshly made buberts.

Squirrel Sorrow Soup

During the period I lived in Germany, a new name emerged for one of my favorite Latvian dishes — sorrel soup. At that time, in everyday life I mostly spoke English, and someone once asked me what I was making. I said it was “sorrel soup.” Since “sorrel” sounds a bit like “sorrow” or even “squirrel” (after all, who knows what those strange Latvians are really stewing in their kitchens 😄), ever since then sorrel soup has been “squirrel sorrow soup” to me. It’s one of my go-to autumn dishes when I’m abroad, because I crave something dark, thick, and hearty — and fresh sorrel is rarely available. In Latvia, though, I would eat it more in spring, when the first greens appear. Traditionally, you’d have some leftover grains in the pantry — barley, pearl barley, potatoes, maybe a piece of smoked meat, and so on.In Eastern European shops you can sometimes buy sorrel in jars, or I bring it with me from Latvia. If you have sorrel, you can gather everything else around it, even if the ingredients aren’t exactly the same as back home. Dried or smoked ribs elsewhere might not be quite the same, but you can get very close to the familiar flavor.

The house smells of smoked meats and rasols for days afterwards! (Laila Rudzone)

Festive table NOVEMBER 2025 The house smells of smoked meats and rasols for days afterwards! (Laila Rudzone) Germany On the holiday table at home, there’s always rosolīts (potato salad). Every year we agree that this time we’ll make a bit less of it, but somehow it always ends up being a big bowl — and it’s always eaten to the last bite. Sometimes we roast chicken or carp with garlic and dill.  And the queen of the table is a homemade cake with lingonberry jam and custard cream. You can make lingonberry-apple jam here in Germany too. I couldn’t find fresh lingonberries anywhere, but you can buy them frozen at the Mix Markt store. Then you put the lingonberries in a pot together with peeled apples, a bit of sugar, and a clove or two for flavor. The jam is ready!  You can also buy dill at this store — which turns out to be surprisingly hard to find fresh, crisp, and fragrant in other shops, for salads or boiled potatoes. After the home celebrations, the house still smells of smoke and rosolīts for two more days. Story sent in by Laila Rudzone. NOVEMBER news The house smells of smoked meats and rasols for days afterwards! (Laila Rudzone) When fermenting cabbage, you have to kiss over the barrel (Laila Rudzone) Grandma’s secret ingredient used in pickled vegetables (Ana Beatrise Apse-Paese) What I truly miss here when I think of Latvia A once-a-year feast of Latvian specialities (Maija Liiv) Inta talks about celebrations in her home / Philadelphia, USA Amber Table (Dace Gulbe and Inta Grunde) Hostesses in Latvian communities abroad: in different times and countries. Photographs from the collection of the museum Latvians Abroad. Festive tables of Latvian communities abroad: in different times and countries. Photographs from the collection of the museum Latvians Abroad. Ladies’ Committee canapé party! (Inta Šķiņķis) Ladies’ Committees helped maintain the Latvian community (Aija Abens) Mom runs around the stores looking for the “right” kind of cabbage The salmon looks like it’s swimming! (Ingrida Hawke) Searching for Latvian mushrooms How can you shred cabbage without having a beer? (Pēteris Freimanis) Little Māra went into the forest… Ēriks and Aina on mushroom picking Fermenting for three generations in Canada (Aija Zichmane) Liene pickles cucumbers Madara Riley – Mushroom Maddie Certified mushroomer from Michigan (Larisa Mednis) Are you going to send me to mushroom school? (Austra Muižniece) Liene makes kotletes (rissoles) Sauerkraut-making workshop in Melbourne No posts found

When fermenting cabbage, you have to kiss over the barrel (Laila Rudzone)

“So it has happened that I’ve been living in Germany for some time now. Homemade food carries a kind of genetic memory — of grandma’s pancakes or dad’s pike patties, those familiar childhood tastes. Even the stewed sauerkraut on the Christmas table reminds me of the cabbage fermenting days at grandma’s countryside home. In autumn, when the big heads of cabbage were harvested from the field, they were piled up in the middle of the yard under a broad oak tree, waiting for busy hands. The yellow oak leaves slowly swirled through the air, falling onto the cabbage heads. The slightly chilly, misty morning was no obstacle to the great cabbage-souring party. A wooden tub was prepared in advance, scalded with boiling water and scrubbed clean. My grandfather made the wooden barrels and tubs himself. From the attic, the cabbage grater was brought down — it had been carefully stored year after year. Grandma, wearing her apron, cleaned each cabbage head thoroughly, peeling away the outer leaves until only the white heart remained. Grandfather placed it on the grater and, pushing the wooden box back and forth, shaved it down. The white cabbage strips, mixed with a few grated carrots and caraway seeds, pleasantly crunched in the barrel under the wooden pestle. The cabbage was pressed until the juice started to separate. When the tub was full, a wooden lid and a stone weight were placed on top, and the cabbage was left to ferment. For about a week, it was poked every day down to the bottom of the barrel so that the gases could escape. From the Lubāna region in Latvia, there’s an old saying that when fermenting cabbage, one should kiss over the tub — then the cabbage will keep well. Everyone who has made sauerkraut can test the truth of that for themselves :))) To make the sauerkraut healthy, rich with good probiotic bacteria that help produce the happiness hormone serotonin in the gut, only salt should be added — 20 grams per 1 kilogram of the combined cabbage and carrot mass. It shouldn’t be oversalted so that it doesn’t need to be rinsed before eating, and all the goodness stays in the cabbage. In the winter season, when someone caught a cold, grandma would hurry to the cellar with a bowl in hand, scoop out some sauerkraut from the big tub, and bring back a dose of vitamin C. For the children, she sprinkled a bit of sugar on top to make it tastier. That vitamin boost would get all the weak ones back on their feet. And there’s strength in sauerkraut juice — many a market woman has revived herself with it after having one drink too many. Cabbage gives strength and health, and that strength goes straight through the stomach. In Germany, I don’t ferment full tubs of cabbage, but smaller amounts — just enough for sauerkraut soup, stewed cabbage with roast pork, or as a salad mixed with chopped onions and oil to eat with pleasure.”

Story submitted by Laila Rudzone. Photograph from Laila’s private collection.
(Originally written in Latvian).

Grandma’s secret ingredient used in pickled vegetables (Ana Beatrise Apse-Paese)

“My grandma, Eunise, pickles vegetables on the regular. Cucumber, carrots and cauliflower. She adds onion and garlic and her secret ingredient are cloves. She cooks them in water, vinegar and salt (two cups of vinegar for four large cucumbers) until the cucumber loses its green hues and then stores it in jars in the fridge. My grandparents eat pickled vegetables everyday at lunchtime. As kids, me and my siblings were never fond of pickled vegetables, but my mom, Leila, has always had quite Latvian tastebuds, so, when we went out to eat burgers, we would all pick out the pickles to give to her, who gladly ate them. As a grown-up, I now appreciate my grandma’s pickles and reproduce them in my small apartment in Germany, where I study.””

Story submitted by Ana Beatrise Apse-Paese. Photos are from Ana’s personal archive.