Brush with the Edge of Time and Profession - Softcover

Nowakowski, Edward

Softcover

ISBN 10: 149074407X ISBN 13: 9781490744070

Verlag: Trafford, 2014

Inhaltsangabe

This book describes my family's life, which is full of historical experiences going through the Hitler era, the Stalin regime, and communism, to the current decade in the United States. The accounts of our experiences reflect the time from the 1940's, when my mother's family had no electricity or water in their home in a village in Poland, to my successful career as an award winning chef and comfortable married life in the United States "Brush with the Edge of Time and Profession is a deeply personal book that details the joys and sorrows of a mother and son. Their stories are equally inspiring and celebrate the human heart and demonstrates how one can survive even in the most difficult of circumstances" "These lifelong memories are about wonder and about kindness, they are about being open to the gifts of both the light and the shadows of our experience" - The US Review of Books

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Chef Edward Nowakowski CEMC - CFBE Born in Linz-Austria raised in Poland. Chef Edward Nowakowski comes to the U.S. with three years of Culinary School, a Master Chef Diploma and numerous awards for Garde-Manger work under his belt. Chef Edward seized the opportunity for opening several new Hotels; include Hyatt N.Y. Four Seasons in Dallas TX, Hilton Hotel in Norfolk Virginia, and many more, as well as Wilson Conference at The University of Memphis. Though trained in classical components of French and South-Eastern European cuisine's he adapts his cooking to the local area where he works and prepares a superb quality of Ethnic cuisines exquisitely presented with elegance and prepare a menu to suit any taste as well as offer exemplary service. In honor of my mother, I wanted to share my immigration journey," says Nowakowski "My mother-and me, for that matter-were survivors of the Nazi occupation of Poland in World War II." His own life has been one of the great changes, which his mother, Stanislawa "Stasia" Nowakowski, didn't let him forget. "My mother inspired me to write the memoir," he says. "Brush with Edge of Time and Profession". The first three chapters are her life, in her own words, incredible accouters during the Nazi occupation of Europe, her life with the baby (Edward) in labor camp in Linz Austria, difficulties to get back home after the war through ruins of towns, going straight to the jaws of another monster Stalin. Remaining chapters Chef Edward describe his youth under the communism system and educational stages of his culinary institute much different than in current edge. His life journey has taken him from infancy in makeshift quarters above a labor camp barn to an international culinary career of distinction. He is food beverage executive, master chef, consultant and he's an instructor of cuisine and restaurant management. He tells of his lifetime love, Julia, wife who came from Poland to America to be with me, he says' and our experiences as we traveled around the U.S. with my work assignments. Chef Edward and his wife, Julia-a pastry chef, have been married 39 years, and have two children residing in Europe. Last, is the tale of our fight with the dread disease "CANCER" which consumed us both, and which finally took my beloved Julia away from me.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

A Brush With the Edge of Time and Profession

By Edward Nowakowski

Trafford Publishing

Copyright © 2014 Chef Edward Nowakowski
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4907-4407-0

Contents

Dedication, vi, 
Introduction, vii, 
Photographs, ix, 
Chapter 1 — Mother's Story (As told to me), 1, 
Chapter 2 — Mother and Her "Beautiful" Son (As told to me), 64, 
Chapter 3 — Mother, Father and Me, 97, 
Chapter 4 — Growing Up With My Family, 113, 
Chapter 5 — Beginning My Career in Poland, 140, 
Chapter 6 — My First Marriage, Then to America, 166, 
Chapter 7 — In America, My Chef's Career, 206, 
Chapter 8 — My Beloved Julia, 272, 
Index, 279, 

CHAPTER 1

Mother's Story (In her own words)

(My mother's experiences at the beginning and during the German occupation of Poland; how she arrived in Linz, Austria, as forced labor at a farm; where she meets many other people taken by the Germans to forced labor in much worse circumstances than her's; her feeling of total loss of control in her life; the hatred she felt toward the Germans; her pregnancy, my birth, and the severe consequences of her motherhood during the war; as well the negative attitude of Austrian farmers toward the war and Hitler's politics.)

Some noise woke me. I roused myself a little and noticed that my mother was working at the morning farm chores. I just wanted to turn over and go back to sleep, but my mom's voice insisted, "Stasia, it is time to get up! We have plenty of work to do before you go to town with your father!"

Oh yes, I remembered, we had been talking last night about it. We needed to go to town to get more supplies.

Over the last few days, we had collected some fresh eggs. Maybe we would be lucky enough to trade these eggs for sugar, and the salt was almost gone. We also needed some fatback, to melt for lard. If we had any pork or goose meat left over, my mom could make such good rillettes. The breads we had been baking every two weeks were now stale, and all of us were tired of eating plain bread, or just bread with milk.

Before the German invasion, our pigsty and stable were always occupied by two pigs and two or three cows. Now just one cow remained, and she didn't give us enough milk to make the heavy cream needed for butter.

"Stasia! You better get up! It is getting late!" my mom called.

The fresh coffee was made and slices of bread had been toasted over the flattop stove. The aroma of toasting bread made me get up quickly.

I went to the kitchen and poured water from the bucket into the washbowl. Just like Mom had told me many times, with each splash of water washing my face, I prayed: "God, please wash my soul of my sins."

I poured hot coffee into my drinking cup, added some milk, and took a sip. "Mom, this coffee is good, but the other day I was talking with Kazia from Wisnioskiego. She says the Germans have different coffee, natural coffee. She said it is really good."

"Well, it must be good," Mom says. "That's not wheat coffee, like ours. We can't afford such a delicacy. That's for rich people! You remember one time we got a package from my sister in the USA? That was the same kind of coffee as in Germany. I wanted to leave it at home, but your father asked me to sell it. We needed the money. But you need to add more cycoria (Cichorium intybus). That will improve the flavor of your coffee."

"Mama," I asked. "What is cycoria?"

"I don't know either, but it is produced in Belgium from endive roots. Your father told me it was used by the soldiers to sweeten coffee, especially wheat coffee." That's what they had been drinking during the First World War when he was the soldier.

At that moment, Father came into the house with a half a basket of fresh mushrooms. He had just picked them in the forest this morning. I was so excited! I loved baked mushrooms!

Following the religious custom of our Catholic faith, Father said, "Praise God!" at the doorway and asked me if I was ready to go with him to town. "Yes, Papa," I replied. "Just let me dress and eat something."

Father went to the kitchen stove and reached for the toasted bread. "Hey! This bread is too dry! We must remember to take the bread slices from the stove so they will not become too dry and hard. But we can still eat them dipped in the milk."

Mom returned from milking the cow, the fresh milk still warm with foam on the top. I took a large cup and gave one to my father. I wanted to pick some nice wild bottom mushrooms for baking, but my father said, "Do not take more than one or two mushrooms. We can go to the forest to pick mushrooms again tomorrow. I want to take these to town."

I picked two mushrooms, cleaned them dry and sprinkled them with salt, then put them on the top of the stove. I stuck a piece of wood into the fire chamber to make sure the flattop was hot.

The door from the bedroom opened and the rest of my family came out, my four younger sisters, Frania, Kasia, Zosia, Marysia, and my younger brother, Wladek. Wladek went directly outside. My sisters wanted a cup of milk with some bread. They also wanted some mushrooms, but my father wouldn't let them have any.

"Tomorrow we can have lots more. I think there will be enough for everybody to eat and maybe enough to put some mushrooms on the string and dry them in the sun for wintertime. These are so nice and healthy," he said, "they will be easy to sell." We didn't go to town as often as in the old days before the German invasion; but now if we went to market, we needed to barter as much we could.

My brother Wladek suddenly reacted angrily and slammed the door as he went outside again. I went after him to calm him down. I stopped him and asked, "Why are you showing such a temper?"

"Why? We have to starve all the time! Can't we do better like our cousins in Przemysl? They can get jobs and work for money! We just sell what we can put our hands on or sell what the Germans don't want to take away from us!"

"Wladek, you know this is a very tough time now and we have to do anything we can to survive and to be away from town. We have a better chance to survive and be together."

Then Mom called, "Wladek, can you bring me some fire logs so I can cook zacierka (milk-potato soup) for breakfast for everybody?" Wladek's face automatically brightened, and immediately he ran to get some firewood from the large stacks around the stable walls.

Every year during the fall, my father and Wladek worked very hard to bring plenty of large logs from the forest, and then they cut them into small pieces. These pieces were chopped into fire logs and stored around the stable walls. Chopping the logs was hard work; but it was also a lot of fun, with everybody taking a turn chopping when their chores were done and they had spare time.

The crisp morning breeze and the moist early spring air reminded me I was outside. The sun was just beginning to glide through the foggy sky, touching mostly the wooded area. It was still early morning. As I looked at the beautiful massive fog hanging over the impassable forest area, a few bashful beams of sunlight began to shine directly on our house, causing me to take a closer look at it.

The house was build of wooden logs, and inside all the walls were plastered completely with clay. Outside the plaster was only between the logs. It looked nice. I could hardly believe that my father had built such a nice house all by himself. Three quarters of the house contained the door, three windows at the front, and one window on the side....

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Trafford
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2014
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 149074407X
• ISBN 13: 9781490744070
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 296
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: gpsr@libri.de; gpsr@libri.de; ; Europaallee 1; Bad Hersfeld; 36244; Deutschland