Her haroset was sweet with snipped raisins; her fritters drizzled with honey tasted so soufflé-light, they were called “snow pancakes.”
Lisa Sokoloff always knew her Grandma Dorothy’s food was different. While Lisa’s friends ate fluffy matzoh ball soup at their seders, her family tucked into an elixir rich with celery, carrots, chicken meat and necks, and little oniony dumplings made from whole matzoh.
But when Dorothy died, the family knew little about her heritage. Then an