Konsejas de Shelly

Kaye de Nahlaot. Daniel Santacruz

Dulse de roza de Grandmaman

Nota del redaktor: Prezentamos aki los tres primeros kapítulos del livro Dulse de roza de Grandmaman, en ladino i inglez, por Yossi Suede i traduksion Shelly Roza Swed. Puvlikado kon el apoyo de la Autoridad Nacional del Ladino i kon el apoyo de Fania i Bondi Roza. Yerushalayim, 2026.

El livro de puede merkar en el Sentro Menachem Begin, en Yerushalayim, o en amazon.com.

Editor’s note: We present here the first three chapters of the book Grandma’s Rose Jam, in Ladino and English. Published by the National Authority for Ladino and the generous support of Fania i Bondi Roza. Jerusalem, 2026.

The book is sold in the Menachem Begin Center, en Jerusalem, or in amazon.com

Primera memoria

Tadre de viernes. Grandmaman esta suviendo avagar avagar las eskaleras de la guerta de la kaza en la keleja Shabazi del barrio Nahlaot.

Travando detras de eya una araba de shuk yena. La puerta del salon se avre; nosotros las kreyaturas koreymos para abrasarla i ayudarla kon la araba. Eya se kita el palto godro i el chapelo de pelo (sin relasyon a el klima) i un chal blanco de dantel embrujandola, dando pasos muy avagares i respirando kon una kara kaji sufriendo, komo todo estava para estruyirse. Ma de el momento ke ya entro en el salon estava briyando i sonrisando a todos kon su sonriso famozo.

La kamareta estava inchyendose de colores vertigosas. Grandmaman parfumada, kon manikur fresko en las unyas, ruj a levr en los muchos, de la arava golores de biskochos de almendra, borekes, dulse de roza freska i siguro las famosas borekitas kayentes.

El kamino de el salon fina el mutpak es kurto, manko de dyez metros, ma la araba yegava aya kaji vaziya.

Amanyana: Ruvya

First memory

Kacha del livro.

Friday evening. Grandmama slowly climbs the stairs of the courtyard house on Shbazi Street in Nahlaot (a charming, old neighborhood and traditional character), dragging a heavy laden shopping cart behind her.

The door to the narrow parlor opens; we children run to hug her and help with the cart. She wears a thick coat and a fur hat (regardless of the weather), and a white lace scarf draped over her from above. She pants as she steps through he door carefully, her expression pained, as if everything is about to collapse—but the moment she enters her famous living room, she beams ad bestows upon everyone her famous smile.

Waves of intoxicating aromas flood the room. Grandmama is perfumed, with fresh lacquer on her nails and rouge a levre (lipstick) and from the carts rise the scents of delicacies: Turkish borek pastry with assorted cheeses, fresh rose jam, crispy almond cookies, and of course—the warm borekitas (savory pastries filled with cheese or potato).

The path from the living room to the kitchen is short, less than ten meters, yet the kart arrives there nearly empty.

Tomorrow: Redhead