Zman Heruteinu, Hag He'aviv, Pesach, Passover. A very special time of year, a very emotional Holiday. Here in the Lower Rio Grande Valley, spring came and went, without a real splash or flourish. Back up north Spring is a riot of color, scents and the song of returning birds hearkens us to the mad cleaning frenzy that precedes Pesach. I never did the whole hunt the chometz, but I did feel the three thousand year old call to throw open the windows and spring clean the house.
The last few years a few stray fellow Jews, Barry and myself have made a small and hamish seder. Every time I crack open my frayed and yellowed old Passover recipes and the special Super Supplement Passovers' with Newsday I've collected for over 35 years I can only sit quietly and remember Seders past.
Most of my memories center on the very formal white damask cloth clad and sparkling crystal china laden table my Grandmother Etta would set. Her dining room was an artistic mix of blond and cherry wood with a fabulous chandelier that bounced it's prismatic light off her cut and etched mirror. In the center of all this sparkle and gleam was placed a huge vase of white Gladiolas.
Aside from the ascetics that set off my own desire for interior design, was my grandmothers food. We always arrived after everything was set and the kitchen preparations were just a memory. It was the one time of year we entered the house on Maytime Drive through the front door. All other visits were through the garage, shoes off upon entering, or through the sliding glass doors in the den. We trooped up from downstairs on old sheet covered stairs carefully avoiding the Living room, and headed straight into the kitchen. We were only allowed to sit in the formal blue and white living room on very special occasions. When Grandpa (Pop) played the Steinway& Sons black Mother Grand we were allowed to sit near him on the carpet, watching his slippered feet work the petals and his beautiful spatulate fingers glide and tickle the key board. Pop liked to nap on the thick plush carpet behind the piano that was placed in the pocket of a giant Bay window. If we were very quiet we also could lay down on sacred ground.
It's Pesach, my sister and I have a brand new outfit usually topped off with a hat designed and made by my Aunt Gertie. My brother his blond hair brill creamed to spiky peaks, bow tied with his jacket buttoned in the middle. We never had much in the way of material things in our house and our cloths budget was next to nothing, but when called for I must say we had some ripping outfits. My sister Pam was more the cloths horse and lamented my mothers choices often and loudly. Our Great Aunts and Uncle would make us coats, hats and outfits for the dressy and holiday occasions, on these moments we could really hold our heads up and shine.
Arriving we received our rare kiss from Pop and were seated in the Living room until called to the table. Pop read the service in breakneck Hebrew until the responsive bits and we dutifully told the tale of the Hebrews exile and soujourn as slaves to Pharoh in Egypt. Patifar and his battle with Moses as g-d sent a new message and plague with each demand to free the people of Israel.
Each year we drank the Manischewitz Concord Grape wine and every year my sister found a way to drink more than her four sips and got a wee bit shicka. Erupting in cascades of giggles in appropriately. One of the men hid the afikomen. Reading the Haggadah and singing the songs brought us continuity, and tradition in an other wise traditonless family.Our Da Da Yenu was very rousing. We didn't attend Temple until just before my brother was to be bar-mitzva and the day after we didn't step in the Temple again. Maybe our temple going lasted 3-4 years. My sister and I were out to sea we didn't have a clue but we both felt a connection. Our jewish/yiddishkite roots did not run deep. Passover was our chance to really remember who we were, who our children would ultimately be.
The Four questions were passed down to the youngest and so it went. Grandma disappeared in to the kitchen at some point and no sooner had the men washed their hands and the Hillel sandwich was just a bitter memory then food began arriving. Gefilte fish which I will not apologise for loving, with crain or horseradish hard boiled eggs and salt water, chicken soup with Flanken. My sister and I had Flanken wars, as we both vied for the precious pieces of meat that helped to strengthen the soup. Frankly, I would have been happy to stop the meal right there.
We had at least two meat dishes with roasted chicken, several vegetables and a Potato Nick or kugel and baked Sweet Potatoes. We never ate Tsimmis, or so many of the other dishes I have come to know at other Seders. So my dilemma besides not making matzo balls like my mothers canon balls, was that there was never any real holiday recipe to be gleaned from my grandmothers table. The food was fantastic as she was a fabulous cook, but it was never really the stuff of handing down generation to generation. Etta was also a solo cook no one in her kitchen so as a child I never saw her cook those holiday meals. When I began to take over the Passover from my mom and dad, I had to go in search of Passover. So my collecting began in ernest.
So I opened my tattered collection today and I will share a few of my gems. I wet matzo, so here is my passover "bagels"
2/3 cup water
1/2 teaspoon coarse salt
1/3 cup oil
1 cup matzo meal
3 eggs
Bring the water, salt and oil to the boil. When bubbling add matzo meal, stir remove from the heat and cool. Add the eggs 1 at a time, mixing well. Drop by tablespoons on a greased pan wetting hands carefully shape into a bagel form with a hole in the middle.
Bake 350 F 40-45 min.
Passover Carrot Pudding
8 eggs, separated
1/2 cup matzo meal
1/4 tsp salt
1 1/2 cups powdered sugar
2 cups grated carrot
1 tbsp wine
1/2 cup ground almonds
1/2 lemon rind grated
Beat together yolks and sugar till light, add remaining ingredients
Beat whites till stiff peaks and then fold into yolk mixture. Bake in well greased and matzo floured pan 300 F 1 hour
Mashed Potato Pie
4-5 Potatoes
1 onion diced 2 lbs chopped meat
1/2 teaspoon salt, pepper garlic powder ( I add a few grates of nutmeg to the mashed potatoes)
Boil potatoes and mash well putting through a ricer
Brown onion in oil then add chop meat s&p garlic powder
Grease baking dish well and beginning with potatoes layer meat and potato alternately.
Bake 350 F 1 hour until nice and brown on top
Sometimes I add mushrooms to the onion browning process for a richer beefier flavor.
Almond Hills
3 tbs cakemeal or matzo meal sifted
1/4 lb. blanched almonds
1/2 lb. powdered sugar (1 2/3 cups)
5 egg whites
Roast blanched almonds and sliver, beat egg whites stiff, sift in powdered sugar and meal. Add almonds and mix thoroughly. Grease cookie sheet dust well with meal, and drop Tablespoons of mixture onto sheet. Keep room for spreading between hills.
Bake 275 F about 20 minutes cool before removing from sheet.
Many years ago I stopped making apple Haroset. I am allergic to cinnamon and I personally loathe apple anything. So I adopted a wonderful Sephardi recipe and never looked back.
1lbs, pitted dates
2 cups dark currents
1 cup chopped walnuts ( I prefer Pecans)
enough sweet red wine to moisten
a touch of honey or brown sugar
Alternatively Sephardi do not use wine but I would add 1/2 cup honey or brown sugar and lemon juice along with the soaking liquid.
Soak dates and currents over night reserve liquid after draining
Coarse chop fruit add chopped nuts, wine and honey
add back any soaking liquid if mixture begins to dry too much
I find this works the best, if I make the mixture the night before and then adjust for moisture before serving. After all, dates and honey what could be bad?
My spell check had a nervous break down with all of the foreign words, being the notoriously bad speller that I am if I have miss spelled any Yiddish words etc. forgive me.
The highlight of the evening was always watching that rascal Elijah drink from the Kiddush cup and no one can tell me he didn't. The boys ran around looking for the Afikoman and then we were summerly sent down to the den to amuse ourselves till we drooply trooped off home.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Food Plain and Simple
"Now that I've eaten I see things in a different light." Groucho Marx
It is too true that no matter what or when we eat, the aspect of mood is either creator or resolver of many things. In the simple act of mastication and swallowing we have created whole realms of emotional responses, rituals, making new retrieving of old. Whether our data banks overflow with useless and sometimes annoying bits and bytes, our food memory banks never fail to reunite self with self. Now mind you I have memories of food poisonings that are as vivid as my cherished foody moments. As a matter of fact I can remember where I was what I ate and my willingness to cross the Vail at those haunted memories. Vivid as they are, and great tales that they make my food catalog is vast and colorful. I do remember where and when I traveled each culinary crossroad. I can conjure the scent, temperature, texture, color palette and finally and most exquisitely my first taste.
From my earliest memories food, and the discernment of good and bad food has been my shadow. We have traveled together, we talk to each other, we dream with each other and connect on a level of art and artist. One could argue that my penchant for hoarding stems from a former life time of food deprivation, my pantry bursting with a resemblance to the Ark. This murky reincarnation also brings me to question my innate recognition of certain cuisines that had not been in my childhood. That instant almost teary eyed reunion with a palate from the past and the reuniting of two friends.
As soon as I could master the stove in my mothers home I stood nearly eye to eye with the knobs and began a life time of passing on joy and love to all who would partake. I come from and interesting food lineage, Kosher in spirit if not practice when I was very young, and one parent with an adventurous palate and another parent who thought frozen food and white bread was dinner du jour. My maternal Grand-mother was a terrific cook who taught several of her nieces to cook, but failed utterly with my mother. Another maternal Great-Grandmother was a caterer and marvelous pastry maker. My father was a very good cook and a master griller. It was he who saved us from Oncor/Boil n bag hell. I remember the first time he brought home Kippers and sauteed them in butter squeezing lemons to finish. He taught us how to negotiate the bones and how to fillet a whitefish "chub". My mother stayed firmly in her bed on those rare but memorable Sunday mornings.
Cookbooks were read as a novel, each recipe stored and amended by my mental palate. My first breads, dried legumes, whole fish, new vegetable, each rung in the ladder I climbed. In the eighties I began to cater, a small party here and there. I didn't know a thing and had to cook from the confines of my then woeful kitchen. The children hands scrubbed sitting at the kitchen table rolling meatballs, or dough. I did well, very well, but I needed a partner, several friends offered to partner and after one party quit, it was too much work. Mind you no one was cooking in those days. I gave a cooking class to my NCJW women, they hugged and thanked me and then patted, all the while shaking their heads at my foolish waste of time and energy. Reservations and prepackaged foods were after all cleaner and easier. I was alone in the vast wilderness of the modern cook/woman. A whole generation who could not, would not cook. Without the help I needed, I let the catering dream fold, but soldiered on alone in my culinary quests.
Oh so many years later and the food world is so exciting, and everyone talks and walks food. Still to my surprise, I find even with Food network, PBS and the Travel Channel there is still a need for education and the exchange of recipes and techniques. I had a discussion with Jose my home builder the other evening about salt and different salts. Pulling out several jars we lined them up and he and his photographer did a salt tasting. He is the cook in the family, his wife burns water. We pulled out my pots and we talked about the different materials in relation to different types of cooking. We spent two hours nattering on about cooking and foods. I showed him my sour dough starter jar. He watches (the networks) religiously and yet his basic food knowledge was undeveloped.
It is my belief that food has become a spectator sport and without the stories and backgrounds , we don't identify with the foods we see the chefs prepare on TV. Over forty years of self education and a drive to conquer my inner hunger for new tastes and techniques, I find my self pulled back into the realm of food, and cooking. So often I have been asked why I don't get back into cooking, and my response has been I just can't be on my feet like that anymore. Yet there is another way I can step back in to the the world of food, and here it is. I hope through stories, anecdotes and education I can "feed" you all.
Now I have been asked repeatedly by friends and family for help and recipes. Despite all the food media and many blogs I am flattered and amazed that I have become the food maven. So yes, I will answer questions share and find recipes and of course have this forum for those of you who wish to jump in and share the traditions as well as the recipes of your own households.
As per your request Lynn and Ava here is my Eggplant and Rice Provincial, I was thrilled that you loved it. When I was a vegetarian it was a big staple bring a dish, dish. The original recipe is lost in my vast collection of cook books so here is the version that has stood the test of time:
When picking out Eggplants, unmarked deeply purple with a small calyx and small bottom dimple is best. They will have fewer seeds as I believe these are the males. I also no longer peel and seed my own tomatoes, I use Organic peeled plum tomatoes in the can, they taste better and save time. If tomatoes are in season however use fresh!
To peel fresh tomatoes, boil some water, wash tomatoes and slice a small x on the bottom, place 3/4 of the way up in boiling water for a second or so, remove and plunge into a bowl of ice water x down. If all goes right you can peel the skin right off and then proceed to squeeze gently to remove excess juice and pits. The rest is a fine chop. I like to do this for summer salads and when I make a fresh tomato pasta and olive oil.
Pre-heat Oven 400 F
2 Lbs of Eggplants Peeled, and cut into 1" cubes sprinkle with lemon juice to preserve color
4-6 Tbsp. of olive oil (Eggplants soak up oil so don't just pour more on keep the veggie moving)
3 cups finely chpd onions (Sweet if you can get)
1 red pepper cored, seeded cut into 1" cubes
2 garlic cloves smashed and chopped
3 peeled cored and seeded tomato's chopped (use at least six, plum canned without the juice)
fresh Rosemary, Sage, Thyme, crushed and chopped
2 bay leaves
1 cup long grain rice (I pre cook for a few minutes before adding to mixture)
3 1/4 cups of Vegetable stock
sea salt and lemon pepper
(dots of butter, make this better)
In hot saute pan add olive oil and saute eggplant moving the pan and egg plant vigorously. I like to caramelize this a little for the smoky flavor before adding onion, r.pepper,tomatoes, garlic, spices and bay leaves. This is a matter of taste but if using fresh you need to use quite a bit, if dried a 1/2 teaspoon each should do it. Lower heat and simmer until the liquid evaporates. Stir in par cooked rice and warmed stock adding salt and lemon pepper to taste. Here I use Royal Basmati aged Himalayan rice, and McCormick course grind Lemon pepper. It has no MSG and is fairly clear of anything nasty. Dot or not, with butter and bake covered for 30 minutes. Check the rice and moisture level. I usually uncover and cook another 15-20 min. Or if I intend to reheat and serve later I pull it out now.
Serves 8
I hope you enjoy this tried and true dish of mine.
Hey I'm hungry anyone want Foccacia bread? HMMMM...
It is too true that no matter what or when we eat, the aspect of mood is either creator or resolver of many things. In the simple act of mastication and swallowing we have created whole realms of emotional responses, rituals, making new retrieving of old. Whether our data banks overflow with useless and sometimes annoying bits and bytes, our food memory banks never fail to reunite self with self. Now mind you I have memories of food poisonings that are as vivid as my cherished foody moments. As a matter of fact I can remember where I was what I ate and my willingness to cross the Vail at those haunted memories. Vivid as they are, and great tales that they make my food catalog is vast and colorful. I do remember where and when I traveled each culinary crossroad. I can conjure the scent, temperature, texture, color palette and finally and most exquisitely my first taste.
From my earliest memories food, and the discernment of good and bad food has been my shadow. We have traveled together, we talk to each other, we dream with each other and connect on a level of art and artist. One could argue that my penchant for hoarding stems from a former life time of food deprivation, my pantry bursting with a resemblance to the Ark. This murky reincarnation also brings me to question my innate recognition of certain cuisines that had not been in my childhood. That instant almost teary eyed reunion with a palate from the past and the reuniting of two friends.
As soon as I could master the stove in my mothers home I stood nearly eye to eye with the knobs and began a life time of passing on joy and love to all who would partake. I come from and interesting food lineage, Kosher in spirit if not practice when I was very young, and one parent with an adventurous palate and another parent who thought frozen food and white bread was dinner du jour. My maternal Grand-mother was a terrific cook who taught several of her nieces to cook, but failed utterly with my mother. Another maternal Great-Grandmother was a caterer and marvelous pastry maker. My father was a very good cook and a master griller. It was he who saved us from Oncor/Boil n bag hell. I remember the first time he brought home Kippers and sauteed them in butter squeezing lemons to finish. He taught us how to negotiate the bones and how to fillet a whitefish "chub". My mother stayed firmly in her bed on those rare but memorable Sunday mornings.
Cookbooks were read as a novel, each recipe stored and amended by my mental palate. My first breads, dried legumes, whole fish, new vegetable, each rung in the ladder I climbed. In the eighties I began to cater, a small party here and there. I didn't know a thing and had to cook from the confines of my then woeful kitchen. The children hands scrubbed sitting at the kitchen table rolling meatballs, or dough. I did well, very well, but I needed a partner, several friends offered to partner and after one party quit, it was too much work. Mind you no one was cooking in those days. I gave a cooking class to my NCJW women, they hugged and thanked me and then patted, all the while shaking their heads at my foolish waste of time and energy. Reservations and prepackaged foods were after all cleaner and easier. I was alone in the vast wilderness of the modern cook/woman. A whole generation who could not, would not cook. Without the help I needed, I let the catering dream fold, but soldiered on alone in my culinary quests.
Oh so many years later and the food world is so exciting, and everyone talks and walks food. Still to my surprise, I find even with Food network, PBS and the Travel Channel there is still a need for education and the exchange of recipes and techniques. I had a discussion with Jose my home builder the other evening about salt and different salts. Pulling out several jars we lined them up and he and his photographer did a salt tasting. He is the cook in the family, his wife burns water. We pulled out my pots and we talked about the different materials in relation to different types of cooking. We spent two hours nattering on about cooking and foods. I showed him my sour dough starter jar. He watches (the networks) religiously and yet his basic food knowledge was undeveloped.
It is my belief that food has become a spectator sport and without the stories and backgrounds , we don't identify with the foods we see the chefs prepare on TV. Over forty years of self education and a drive to conquer my inner hunger for new tastes and techniques, I find my self pulled back into the realm of food, and cooking. So often I have been asked why I don't get back into cooking, and my response has been I just can't be on my feet like that anymore. Yet there is another way I can step back in to the the world of food, and here it is. I hope through stories, anecdotes and education I can "feed" you all.
Now I have been asked repeatedly by friends and family for help and recipes. Despite all the food media and many blogs I am flattered and amazed that I have become the food maven. So yes, I will answer questions share and find recipes and of course have this forum for those of you who wish to jump in and share the traditions as well as the recipes of your own households.
As per your request Lynn and Ava here is my Eggplant and Rice Provincial, I was thrilled that you loved it. When I was a vegetarian it was a big staple bring a dish, dish. The original recipe is lost in my vast collection of cook books so here is the version that has stood the test of time:
When picking out Eggplants, unmarked deeply purple with a small calyx and small bottom dimple is best. They will have fewer seeds as I believe these are the males. I also no longer peel and seed my own tomatoes, I use Organic peeled plum tomatoes in the can, they taste better and save time. If tomatoes are in season however use fresh!
To peel fresh tomatoes, boil some water, wash tomatoes and slice a small x on the bottom, place 3/4 of the way up in boiling water for a second or so, remove and plunge into a bowl of ice water x down. If all goes right you can peel the skin right off and then proceed to squeeze gently to remove excess juice and pits. The rest is a fine chop. I like to do this for summer salads and when I make a fresh tomato pasta and olive oil.
Pre-heat Oven 400 F
2 Lbs of Eggplants Peeled, and cut into 1" cubes sprinkle with lemon juice to preserve color
4-6 Tbsp. of olive oil (Eggplants soak up oil so don't just pour more on keep the veggie moving)
3 cups finely chpd onions (Sweet if you can get)
1 red pepper cored, seeded cut into 1" cubes
2 garlic cloves smashed and chopped
3 peeled cored and seeded tomato's chopped (use at least six, plum canned without the juice)
fresh Rosemary, Sage, Thyme, crushed and chopped
2 bay leaves
1 cup long grain rice (I pre cook for a few minutes before adding to mixture)
3 1/4 cups of Vegetable stock
sea salt and lemon pepper
(dots of butter, make this better)
In hot saute pan add olive oil and saute eggplant moving the pan and egg plant vigorously. I like to caramelize this a little for the smoky flavor before adding onion, r.pepper,tomatoes, garlic, spices and bay leaves. This is a matter of taste but if using fresh you need to use quite a bit, if dried a 1/2 teaspoon each should do it. Lower heat and simmer until the liquid evaporates. Stir in par cooked rice and warmed stock adding salt and lemon pepper to taste. Here I use Royal Basmati aged Himalayan rice, and McCormick course grind Lemon pepper. It has no MSG and is fairly clear of anything nasty. Dot or not, with butter and bake covered for 30 minutes. Check the rice and moisture level. I usually uncover and cook another 15-20 min. Or if I intend to reheat and serve later I pull it out now.
Serves 8
I hope you enjoy this tried and true dish of mine.
Hey I'm hungry anyone want Foccacia bread? HMMMM...
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