By Dawn Lerman, JNS.org

In her recently published memoir, My Fat Dad: A Memoir of Food, Love, and Family, with Recipes, New York Times wellness blogger Dawn Lerman shares her food journey and that of her father, a copywriter from the Mad Men era of advertising.

My maternal grandmother always told me that if just one person loves you, it is enough to make you feel good inside and grow up strong. For me, that person was my grandmother, Beauty.

I spent most weekends with my grandmother because my parents liked to go out and stay out late.

My dad, an ambitious copywriter recently hired by the Leo Burnett Company in Chicago, was invited out pretty much every night, either to the Playboy Club for a members’ only dinner or to one of the new nightclubs on Rush Street for cocktails with his creative team.

“It’s a job requirement,” he would tell my mom, often returning home to our third-floor walk-up apartment as the sun was coming up.

I would spend most mornings, when I wasn’t at my grandmother’s house, outside my parents’ door listening to them have the same argument over and over again.

“Taking Dawn to the sandbox once a day does not make you a good mother.”

“Putting a roof over our heads does not make you a good father or husband.”

Often, they would forget I was even in the house, raising their voices behind their closed bedroom door, and no matter how many times I knocked, they never seemed to hear.

Even though I was only 3 and a half, I was often consumed with an overwhelming feeling of sadness and pain in my stomach that would linger from Sunday until Friday. I knew the days of the week because my grandmother showed me how to check them off on a calendar.

“There are only four checks between visits,” she would say.

Each and every Friday night, when I arrived at my grandparents’ house, my grandmother would run down her front porch stairs in her lacy matching nightgown-and-robe set and scream in excitement, “My little beauty, my little beauty!” I thought when I heard her say “beauty” over and over again, she was trying to tell me her name — so “Beauty” is what I called her.

The cooking aromas coming from her kitchen made my mouth water. Beauty always had a pot of something cooking on the stove, a freshly drawn bath, and a fluffy, lavender-smelling nightgown waiting for me.

For meals, she would lift me up and sit me in a special chair, which she piled high with several phone books and an overstuffed round corduroy pillow. She wanted to make sure I could see above the table, which was set with silverware that she polished every week, and an embroidered tablecloth.

Beauty was the perfect name for my grandmother. Everywhere she went, she made people smile.

She emphasized how important it was to make others happy, even if it sometimes meant putting your own feelings aside.

“We do not know what goes on in anyone else’s house, but we can change their day by just saying hello and offering a kind gesture,” she said.

As I lay on her lap, my grandmother would stroke my hair and I would ask her why she liked spending time with me, yet my mother did not. “Your mom loves you very much; she just has a funny way of showing it. You shouldn’t take it personally,” she said.

Beauty liked to spend time with me as much as I liked to spend time with her. We could sit around the table cooking and talking about our feelings for hours.

Beauty would say, “God is in my kitchen, not in temple”—which was really upsetting to her very good friend and neighbor, the rabbi next door.

“I am a culinary Jew,” she’d proclaim. “I honor tradition and those who came before me, and I want to pass the history of the food on to you. I can find my heritage in a bowl of soup. I believe in the power of sweet-and-sour meatballs. I believe that when I combine, eggs, raisins, cottage cheese, yogurt, and baby shells into a kugel, I honor my own grandmother. I believe that stuffed cabbage connects me to my father, whom I miss. My bible is recipes that fill your soul and will keep you healthy and nourished for years to come.”

From the time I could hold a spoon, my grandmother involved me in the cooking process, allowing me to mix the onions, green peppers, and bread crumbs for the salmon patties and decide what kind of soup we were going to prepare.

And Beauty always made sure I was the one who tasted whatever we were making first.

In her arms, I was never hungry for food, love, or affection. She was my mentor and my savior — saving my life, spoonful by spoonful.

Beauty’s Hamantashen with a Healthy Twist

This is a healthier version of my grandmother Beauty’s hamantaschen. My recipe is made with almond and oat flour, coconut oil and a some flax seeds, making it not only delicious, but nut nutritious. Can be made gluten free or vegan.

8 Tbsp. coconut oil or softened butter (put a Tbsp. aside for greasing the baking sheet if you are not using parchment paper)

1 egg, beaten or flax eggs (one Tbsp. of flaxseeds whipped with 3 Tbsp. of warm water. Let sit in fridge)

1 tsp. vanilla extract

2 Tbsp. nondairy milk

1/3 cup maple syrup

1/2 cup almond flour or oat flour (plus additional, as needed, for thickening)

1¼ cups oat flour (you can make your own oat flour by blending oats in a blender)

Pinch of sea salt

1/4 tsp. baking powder

1/4 cup strawberry jam or preserves

Powdered sugar for dusting (optional)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a mixing bowl, combine the oil or butter, egg, vanilla, nondairy milk, and maple syrup, and mix well.

In a separate bowl, mix together the flours, salt, and baking powder. Then combine the ingredients from both bowls and mix together with your hands until they form sticky dough.

If the dough feels a touch dry, you can add a splash of water to thin it. And if it feels a bit wet, you can add a touch more almond or oat flour.

Chill the dough for 10 minutes, then roll out to 1/8-inch thick. Make sure it is firm but not dry. Cut in 3-inch circles, or larger if you prefer. The larger, the easier to fold and fill.

Make sure your jam for the filling has been refrigerated so it is thick, not runny. Use about one teaspoon per cookie.

Place filling in center and pinch the edges firmly together to create a triangle, leaving the center open to expose the filling. Repeat with the remaining cookies.

Bake for 15 minutes or until lightly brown on the bottom. Let cool and sprinkle with powdered sugar (if desired) before eating. Yields one dozen.

Dawn Lerman is a board-certified nutritionist and New York Times wellness blogger.

To read the complete March 2016 Dayton Jewish Observer, click here.