We lived on the third floor of the building, and she lived on the second. Every Friday night she would come up with
gribenes.
If you butcher a hen, you will find about a dozen or so egg yolks in line waiting to be expelled. Closer to the exit is a normal size yolk, shrinking to the size of a pea as you get further away. My grandmother would boil them and bring them up. We used to eat them, but they were terribly dry! We didn't know any better as kids. Surely we could have done something to make them more palatable.
Probably should have mashed them with the gribenes.