DAD'S HORILKA . . . and Ukrainian CABBAGE PUDDING

Dad’s homebrew had Mom all upset and worried before Stasia’s wedding, but I remember thinking, at that time, it wouldn’t have been a real Ukrainian wedding without it.

One of my brightest memories is of sunlight slanting through poplar trees as I stand holding a little spoon under the end of a thin, coiled copper tube waiting to catch a crystal clear drop of Daddy’s horilka. 

The smoothness of that brew was much praised by friends and relatives, but Dad always refused to sell it because that would have brought unwanted attention sooner than later.

Dad never let me have more than one or two drops when he was making it, but, sometimes when I was sick with a cold, he would bring a little of his sure-fire remedy.  All of us kids got a small shot every Christmas, too.

I’m sure this explains my preference for drinking any whiskey straight.  Ice is okay, but not necessary. 

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I do so much Ukrainian cooking now and I wish I could share it with Dad.

Here's Bohdan Zahny's Cabbage Pudding with Mushroom Sauce, p. 162.  It's good but a lot of work.