My First Koliva

Here is the Koliva that I made for Micah’s one-year memorial 1½ years ago. In the Orthodox Church memorial services (“Panikhidas”) are often served on the third, ninth, and fortieth days after death,
every year on the anniversary of death (if the family desires to do so), and any other appropriate time. Koliva can be served at the Panikhida, and we decided to adopt the beautiful tradition of koliva for our family as well. Like the kernel of wheat that can only rise and produce much grain if it first falls to the ground, lies dormant, and is buried, so koliva is made of wheat berries to symbolize the resurrection of the dead. Different ethnic traditions have their own beloved centuries-old ways of making koliva, and it was fascinating for me to learn about this. I truly enjoyed it, and I love all the different traditions. But it was also quite overwhelming, me being an American convert raised on Kentucky Spoonbread and cheese toast, sifting through such incredibly contradicting recipes and advice from different traditions, trying to figure out how I should make it.

-Soak the wheat berries overnight.

-Don’t soak the wheat berries or harmful bacteria will form, and people will die.

-One pound serves 50.

-Six pounds serve 100.

-Cover and store the berries promptly so that they will stay moist.

-Be sure to air dry on a cloth for 8-12 hours.

-Just sweeten and add what you want.

-Koliva commonly has chocolate. It makes it yummy and the children love it.

-Chocolate is inappropriate for koliva. The mere thought of it is shocking.  

-You MUST have pomegranate. If you’ve already resolved not to use pomegranate, we will personally go out and purchase a pomegranate for you, and you will use it in your koliva, and you will love it.

Well, it turned out great. Mine ended up fairly dry and free-flowing, with just a little bit of tiny chocolate chips, and pomegranate—and we did love the pomegranate. Here’s what I learned: Some traditions (such as Greek) keep the kernels dry and free-flowing, whereas some traditions (such as Romanian) make it more moist and mushy. Personally I love it both ways. I wonder if eventually an "American" method will evolve.