Remembering Teta Ole
As a child, I remember being very confused about our great aunt’s name. I was surprised for instance that her neighbors called our Teta Ole, Alice, which seems so strangely conventional and American that it simply didn’t ring true. Then I found out that she wasn’t Ole at all, but that her name was actually Aleksandra, which seemed amazingly regal for someone so absorbed in an endless stream of daily work, and so eager to get her hands dirty. But I see now that she occupied the entire expanse of those names, and perhaps one of the most valuable lessons she taught us was the transcendence of being occupied, that work, in a sense, was life itself.
That type of paradox defined her life. The contentment she felt working in the garden, kitchen or her sewing room belied the fact that she had lost her real home, lived through the atrocities of war, and suffered the indignities of being a refugee and an immigrant. Upon meeting her, most people would simply see a sweet, accommodating woman. But in fact her experience taught her to be strong, to seek direction in chaos by focusing on meeting the needs of the people around her. By humbly taking it upon herself to simply do what needed to be done, she was an anchor for us all, and a subtle example of how to live.
Watching Teta Ole work was like seeing something magical. I always knew who my fairy godmother was, and made room in my closet whenever she came to visit, because she never arrived without having sewn us each some new, beautiful dresses. When something was lacking, she seemed to pull things out of thin air, producing exactly what you needed before you had a chance to imagine it. She loved to recount the story of being 3 years old in Lithuania and shocking the neighbors when they found her expertly working the loom. She told stories about how, when her mother was sick in the hospital, she took it upon herself to make bread for the day with her two younger brothers, which in the village where they lived involved stoking the fire and mixing and kneading the dough by hand. She couldn’t have been more than 7 years old at the time. And so she lived her life, meeting hardship, loss and difficulty and responding with her ingenuity and a bit of effort.
That early skill at the loom and in the kitchen served her for a long, full lifetime. Teta Ole was generous to a fault; she was the kind of person who couldn’t sit down while others were eating – she had to make sure that we were all well fed and satisfied. She lived to serve others – everyone near and dear to her – her family in particular, but also to her friends and neighbors. She didn’t have a husband or any children of her own, but the people in her vicinity inevitably benefited as though they were her own family. Teta Ole helped her sister-in-law, our Teta Brone, when Brone was a brand-new mother fleeing Lithuania in a horse-drawn wagon. Brone told her that her own sisters would not have cared for her so well. She raised our mother, her niece, when our grandmother died in Germany. She never left her mother’s or her two brothers’ sides, always vigilant to their needs, selflessly helping them all through illness, old age, and death.
Understandably, she found life to be much more difficult when her abilities waned late in life. She would apologize and explain to us that she used to work really hard, that she could make anything, and that people praised her resourcefulness and efficiency. The fairy godmother who used to feed us 3 meals in 5 hours, who sent lasiniuociai and her special deviled eggs to us homesick college students, who could always be counted on for help, was slowing down – and she didn’t like it one bit.
But, Teta Ole will live on not only through all of our memories, but also through the more tangible gifts she left us. The high-quality clothes she made for us when we were children (all matching for us 3 sisters and our brother), have been handed down to other families in the community. We will remember her in the kitchen whenever we make her recipes – or even food that reminds us of her cooking (which has become very fashionable – seasonal, local, fresh flavors with an old-world thriftiness). I recently made a dinner in her memory for friends in Seattle who had never met her, and felt myself tapping into her spirit as I made her Viennese Walnut Torte, her version of kugelis and saltibarsciai – making sure we had a fresh salad from the garden. She will be remembered in the gardening tips she handed down, in her patience at showing us beginners how to knit and sew, and her strength in keeping the family together in hard times. We all have benefitted from these gifts during her lifetime, and the best way for us to remember Teta Ole is by sharing her gifts of generosity and service (and her Viennese Torte) with others.
Viennese Walnut Torte
Notes: you can also make this delicious dessert using ground almonds - that's actually how Teta Ole preferred it, but she started out making this with walnuts, and the flavor of the nuts really took me back at least 20 years. Also - I accidentally doubled the amount of salt I put into the crust when I made this, and it actually perked up and modernized the flavor - I would recommend adding maybe an extra 1/4 tsp. of salt and see how you like it! The instructions were a little cryptic, so I'm not going to give you the recipe verbatim (it's in Lithuanian, anyway), but try to give you a little more direction! This cake also freezes well, if you want to make it ahead of time. Finally, this will easily feed 12-16 people, but if you want to make it look even fancier and/or want to make it for a crowd, use the same springform pan, but increase all the ingredients by 1/2 - so you're making 1.5 times the original recipe. You'll need to increase the baking time for the filling to set up properly (start checking it at 40 min. and keep checking it every 5 afterwards).
Ingredients:
For the crust -
- 1/2 cup unsalted butter (cold)
- 1 cup all-purpose flour
- 1/2 tsp. salt (this is where you can add a little extra to taste - start with 3/4 tsp. total)
- 1/2 cup (or more - I used about 1 cup) apricot or plum jam (I actually used homemade peach jam, because that's what I had in the house)
For the filling -
- 3 Tablespoons unsalted butter (room temperature)
- 1 1/4 cups sugar
- 6 eggs, separated
- 1/2 lb. ground walnuts (or almonds - grind in a food processor, but be careful not to make nut butter! Better that they're a little chunky..)
Instructions:
- Preheat the oven to 350 F - have a 10-inch springform pan ready (don't need to butter it).
- For the crust - mix the flour and salt in a bowl, then cut the butter in with a pastry cutter or 2 knives (or a food processesor) until the mixture is uniformly crumbly. Press the crumbly mixture into the springform pan so that it covers the bottom and 1/3 of the way up the sides of the pan evenly (don't worry if it's not perfect - that's part of the charm). Bake at 350 F for about 15 minutes or until the crust is golden - don't let it brown too much! Reduce the oven temperature to 325 F.
- Take the crust out of the oven, and while it's warm, spread the jam evenly over the bottom on the crust, then set aside while you make the filling.
- For the filling - in a standing mixer on medium speed, beat the butter and sugar together until they are fluffy. Add the egg yolks, 1 at a time, and continue beating until the entire mixture is light in color. Turn the mixer down to slow and add the nuts.
- In a separate, clean bowl, with a clean whisk beater, beat the egg whites until they are stiff. Take 1/3 of the egg whites and using a spatula, mix them into the nut mixture to lighten it up. Then add the remainder of the egg whites and carefully fold them in until the batter is mostly uniform in color - don't overmix!
- Pour the filling into the prepared crust over the jam. Bake it at 325 F for about 35-45 minutes (depends on your oven) - or until it's lightly browned and the center is only slightly jiggly. Cool completely on a wire rack before removing the springform pan and serving.
