I grew up on the constancy of tradition, the rhythms of ritual, the feeling of familiarity. Raised on the sensorial exactitude that came with specific moments on the calendar — such as pillowy soft challah bread on Friday nights, and apples dipped in honey to symbolize a sweet new year.
Which is why I was so unexpectedly delighted when my mom asked me to cook up a wild-caught Alaskan fish stew for Rosh Hashanah dinner this week. You see, in the past, our menu to commemorate the Jewish new year was typically heavy on mainstays like roast chicken and/or saucy brisket.
The presence of wild Alaskan fish on the buffet to me represents the thoughtful integration of the Alaskan family I married into with the story of my own Jewish and Latin roots. It places the import of my husband and his family’s lore and legacy on the table with mine, showing our children a world of togetherness, potentiality and variety. Making my fish stew (the favorite meal of my husband Arron, WAC founder + CEO) on this holiday is a literal melting pot of our joined cultures — the fish from Alaska, the ingredients like yuca and plantains from Latin cuisine, all served on the eve of the Jewish new year.
Family traditions can sometimes seem like glaciers, something we’ve inherited, seemingly fixed in time and place, a monumental record of the past. But even glaciers move, shifting imperceptibly over time, carving new paths and vibrant landscapes. While my family embraces newness at the holiday table, I still don’t take for granted the task of being asked to cook, specifically, an Alaskan fish stew for Rosh Hashanah — an addition to the table that will, in its own way, guide the course of traditions to come.
As we head into the fall and winter months, I invite you all, dear members, to think of ways you might enhance your own rituals and traditions with the bounty of Alaska’s waters.
Live Wild!
Monica
Pictured above: a homemade bowl of yelloweye rockfish stew simmering with culinary tradition, comfort, and care.
