Mutti’s Herring Salad

On edited memory. Memories are a fickle little creature, aren’t they? Some we hold close because they make us smile. Others we tuck away. And sometimes our hearts do the choosing for us, especially when a moment was too much. When my youngest, Eran, was about four, he disappeared in a Sears department store. And of course it happened right near the spot where Sears was wide open to the rest of the mall, with people flowing in and out. He was little and quiet. Two qualities you do not want when you are trying to find someone fast. My stomach still tightens when I think about it. Everything turned out fine in the end. But if you ask Eran what happened, he’ll tell you (hand on Bible, hand on heart, and passing a polygraph!) that he marched right up to the cashier and bravely announced he couldn’t find his mommy. What really happened was this: afterwards, we role-played it over and over in the backyard. I had him practice yelling out loudly, “Mommy! Mommy!” and I taught him exactly who to go to for help. Either a woman pushing a baby buggy, or a cashier behind a counter. He had to say it clearly: “I’m lost. I can’t find my mommy.” We practiced until it felt normal, not scary. And somewhere along the way, that new version became the one his little heart kept. I think there’s something reassuring about that. Memories aren’t always what they appear to be. Sometimes they’re what we needed them to become. Now, I don’t have one intense, dramatic memory tied to herring salad. No big holiday scene. No cinematic music swelling in the background. But I do remember making it for my boys. Quick, easy, tangy-delicious. Something my Mutti passed on to me. And Eran (questionable disappearance memory aside) remembers it fondly too. Ask my other two boys and they’ll tell you, as far as they remember, they have never eaten herring salad. Nope. Never. Not once. But then they look at me and Eran, so convinced, and they start to doubt themselves. That fickle memory again. In Germany, little salads like this heringssalat are often part of an easy abendbrot. Nothing fancy, just something good on the table. That’s why I loved having this as a dinner backup. It’s a jar in the fridge that can quickly save dinner. I guess what I’m trying to say is this: we can’t always choose what we remember. Sometimes memory edits the story without asking. Maybe that’s the funny part. Memories can be fickle, even about something as simple as herring salad. But the love behind it is not fickle. That part remains, and you can feel it again the moment we sit down together.Tschüss!Oma Gerhild P.S. Today's recipe: Mutti's Herring Salad

Your cart is empty

Your cart

Estimated total

Mutti’s Herring Salad

On edited memory.

Unlock this Oma's Kitchen content

Country/region