Let me start this post with a confession. Even though I was born into an Ashkenazi family, I had never actually eaten—or made—gefilte fish. Well, technically I’ve tasted it once. But after one bite, I decided it wasn’t for me.
So what do you do when you’re supposed to make a dish you’ve never really eaten but aren’t even sure how it’s supposed to taste?
That’s why we have mothers. And all of the wonderful people on Instagram who flooded me with advice, tips, and family traditions. Hundreds of comments, countless suggestions, and one recipe from my mother that became the foundation for this gefilte fish, with a few small adjustments inspired by your collective wisdom.
When I finished cooking it—and don’t tell anyone but also tasting it and realizing I’d spent all these years missing one of the most comforting dishes imaginable—I called my parents over.
Between us, I already knew it had turned out well. I knew the moment I lifted the lid from the pot. The steam carried a familiar aroma that instantly transported me to my grandmother’s house. Some aromas leave no room for doubt.
By the time my father helped himself to a second serving and declared it wonderful, I understood something else. There are recipes that simply flow through your hands. Recipes you somehow understand because they’re part of your story.
And my grandmother was right. There really is nothing quite like homemade gefilte fish.
I hope this dish makes your holiday as happy as it made ours. It’s such a privilege to have you here with me.

- Did you make this? Don’t forget to tag me on Instagram
- This is not the traditional Polish-style gefilte fish, which tends to be sweeter. This version is more balanced, with black pepper and just a touch of sugar that I highly recommend keeping. It’s there only to round out the flavors.
- And one more important thing—gefilte fish should always be made at least one day ahead. Two days ahead is even better.

