Shelley Civkin

Sweet summer dessert treats

(photo from twopeasandtheirpod.com)

They don’t make ’em like they used to. And, almost without exception, recipes from yesteryear are tastier, precisely because they’re reminiscent of gentler times. When I think Rice Krispie squares, I recall sitting on our old brown couch in the den, watching Ed Sullivan with the whole family. And I longingly remember eating Mom’s cheesy broccoli soufflé during Rosh Hashanah. Or, I’m back in 1966, enjoying a mountain of fried onions with my mother’s world-class chicken livers. And those salmon patties! And how about that creamed tuna in patty shells? Does anybody even eat this stuff anymore? If not, it’s a crying shame.

Maybe it’s a longing for those days when you could send your children out into the neighbourhood armed with only roller skates, in the certainty that they would be back, safe and unharmed, for lunch (or dinner, depending). A time when TV dinners were acceptable and ubiquitous. (I especially liked the one with fried chicken, corn, peas and tiny, unnaturally square carrots, mashed potatoes and canned pears/peaches.) I remember when an hourglass figure was desirable, and women actually ate to their fill. Of course, most of them smoked, too, but that’s a whole other column. I’m talking food right now. Uncomplicated, unapologetic, unfussy food. Anybody remember chip steaks? How about fondue? Sloppy Joes? Pineapple upside down cake? Aspic (now that’s one heinous creation)?

What’s old can always be new again. Especially if you’re willing to look the other way when it comes to nutrition, calories and cholesterol. Some of my favourite desserts are classic 1950s and ’60s numbers. In other words, any recipes that call for Jello or Dream Whip. And, preferably, have fewer than five ingredients.

My dad, alav hashalom, loved one particular dessert I made. Not that my repertoire was so enormous back then, but, still, it was always a winner with Dad. He’d take one bite and look at me like I’d just discovered fire. It was an easy (understatement of the millennium) recipe given to me by a woman I used to work with when I was a librarian at West Kildonan Library, in the North End of Winnipeg. Naturally, I just call it Liz Westlake’s Jello Dessert. I don’t make it very often, because I’m afraid of being shamed by my fancy foodie friends. But, occasionally, I break down and splurge. Let it be known, however, that no one – I repeat, no one – ever turns down a second piece of this dessert. It’s quaint, refreshing and … old-fashioned.

LIZ WESTLAKE’S JELLO DESSERT

1 can (398 ml or 14 oz) fruit cocktail (drained)
1 1/3 cup Graham cracker crumbs
1/3 cup melted butter
1/4 cup brown sugar
1 box cherry Jello

Preheat oven to 375°F. Mix the Graham cracker crumbs together with the melted butter and brown sugar and pat it into the bottom of a springform pan. Bake for five to seven minutes.

Make the Jello according to the instructions on the box and, when half congealed, but still smooth enough to stir (approximately 1 1/4 hours), add the drained fruit cocktail to the Jello and mix it together. Pour this on top of the Graham cracker crust and refrigerate until completely firm. (If you want to get really fancy shmancy, you can put whipped cream on top. I don’t – I’m a purist.)

Even the most kitchen-challenged soul can make this dessert. And I guarantee it’s a winner, especially on a hot day. Once again, you’re welcome.

Now to a sturdier sweet – the ubiquitous chocolate chip zucchini brownie. Anyone who grows zucchini knows that it can take over your entire garden. If you let it. This is all hearsay, of course, since I’m known far and wide to have a black thumb. But I read a lot. And I’ve heard of people whose gardens produce so much zucchini that they sneak out in the dead of night and drop bags of zucchini on neighbours’ doorsteps, then flee into the darkness, nary a trace of their identity to be found. Personally, I just buy mine at Safeway. But I’m getting off track. This dessert is easy, healthy (OK, let’s just say it’s in the general vicinity of health) and satisfying for those with a hankering for chocolate.

CHOCOLATE CHIP ZUCCHINI BROWNIES

1 1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup canola oil or vegetable oil
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
2 cups shredded zucchini (but don’t squeeze out the liquid)
2 tsp vanilla extract
1 tsp salt (or a little less)
1 1/2 tsp baking soda
1 1/4 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease a 9”x13” baking pan and set it aside.

In an electric stand mixer, or using a hand mixer, combine the sugar, oil and flour. It will look dry, but that’s OK. While mixing on low speed, add the cocoa, shredded zucchini, vanilla, salt and baking soda. Mix until well combined. Stir in the chocolate chips.

Pour the batter into the greased pan and bake for 28 to 32 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the centre comes out clean. The brownies should look set, not mushy. Cool completely on a wire rack. Cut into squares and serve.

Don’t even consider asking me how many calories there are in one square. Think of it as a serving of vegetables. I mean, there is something green in there. Beigey-green? For goodness sake, just enjoy, and stop with the guilt. They’re a nice, moist alternative to regular brownies and you get to feel all high and mighty because they’re [semi] healthy.

If neither of these desserts float your boat, try making your own popsicles. Nothing spells old-school quite like those plastic popsicle molds with the multi-coloured tops. You can over-spend and get the molds at one of those highfalutin, hoity-toity kitchen stores, or you can rock it like it’s 1964 and buy them at your local dollar store. I chose Door #2, and it works just fine. (There’s also the ice-cube tray option, with toothpicks as the popsicle sticks.) There are a gazillion recipes for popsicles on the internet, most of them calling for Greek yogurt, frozen fruit, juice and honey. Check ’em out and keep cool.

Shelley Civkin, aka the Accidental Balabusta, is a happily retired librarian and communications officer. For 17 years, she wrote a weekly book review column for the Richmond Review. She’s currently a freelance writer and volunteer.

Local kids join in the Chidon

Levi Bitton (photo from Vancouver Tzivos Hashem)

The International Chidon boasts 5,000 participants from around the world and, this year, there were eight participants from Vancouver: Levi Bitton (Grade 8); Liba Baitelman (Grade 4); Yanki Baitelman (Grade 6); Menucha Prinsloo (Grade 8); Shoshana Prinsloo (Grade 5); Yonatan Prinsloo (Grade 7); Miriam Ora Yeshayahu (Grade 6); and Dovber Zhornitsky (Grade 6).

Tzivos Hashem is an international educational program for Jewish children ages 3-13, founded in 1980 by the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Menachem Mendel Schneerson. It focuses on teaching kids about kindness, good deeds and refining their character to become better people and more effective influencers in our community. The program’s goal is to increase Jewish identity and provide children with inspiring and immersive Chassidic Jewish learning through fun, informal activities.

The Vancouver chapter of Tzivos Hashem was established in 2017 as part of Lubavitch BC’s outreach activities and now has approximately 45 children registered in the Sunday morning program. The biggest event of the year and the most highly anticipated part of the program is the Chidon, usually held during a Shabbaton in New York, but virtual this year because of COVID. This event highlights the advanced knowledge and understanding of all 613 mitzvot (commandments) of the Torah, as codified by Maimonides. Kids from around the world compete, and this year’s Chidon took place on May 23. Each of the Metro Vancouver students won a plaque (indicating a grade of more than 80% on the final test) and Levi had the distinction of winning a gold trophy for his grade. He was tested on the fifth book of the Torah, and had the highest mark internationally.

photo - Left to right: Menucha Prinsloo, Shoshana Prinsloo, Liba Baitelman and Miriam Ora Yeshayahu — Left to right: Menucha Prinsloo, Shoshana Prinsloo, Liba Baitelman and Miriam Ora Yeshayahu. *(photo from Vancouver Tzivos Hashem)*

Riki Oirechman, principal of Tzivos Hashem Vancouver and the local Chidon coordinator, said: “The most important thing is that the kids gain a lot of knowledge. By learning the 613 mitzvot in depth, they gain a deep appreciation and understanding of all the mitzvot, resulting in an increased excitement for, and commitment to, fulfilling them. They work super hard and really commit themselves to fulfilling the Rebbe’s direction and vision.”

Oirechman explained that all the kids in the program study and complete the five books of Torah and master the 613 mitzvot over five years. The Tzivos Hashem program uses the Yahadus curriculum created by the Living Lessons Foundation in memory of Sarah Rohr. It’s a series of textbooks explaining each mitzvah, its source in the Torah and its details.

To participate in the Chidon, students must pass multiple tests. If a child gets a 70% average, they are eligible to join the Chidon Shabbaton. The child with the highest mark in their class gets to represent their class and school at the Chidon competition. On the weekend of the Chidon, the international participants take the final test, which includes everything they learned during the year. Winners receive certificates, plaques, medals and trophies.

photo - Left to right: Dovber Zhornitsky, Yanki Baitelman and Yonatan Prinsloo — Left to right: Dovber Zhornitsky, Yanki Baitelman and Yonatan Prinsloo. *(photo from Vancouver Tzivos Hashem)*

“The Chidon includes not only the incredible game show competition, but also an exciting award ceremony. This year, over 100,000 people watched from around the world,” said Oirechman. The Chidon started in 2014 with 54 finalists and eight staff and has grown to 2,414 finalists and 375 staff this year.

Local supporters of the program include founders of the Vancouver Tzivos Hashem chapter, Rabbi Shmulik Yeshayahu of the Kollel and Rabbi Dovid Rosenfeld of Chabad Lubavitch of BC, as well as a grant from the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver and local community donors.

For more information about the Vancouver Tzivos Hashem program, email [email protected] or visit lubavitchbc.com/tzivoshashem.

Shelley Civkin is a happily retired librarian and communications officer. For 17 years, she wrote a weekly book review column for the Richmond Review. She’s currently a freelance writer and volunteer, including with Chabad Richmond.

Torah class marks 10 years

Rabbi Manis Friedman is the keynote speaker at Chabad Richmond’s celebration on June 1. (photo from Wikipedia)

On June 1, Chabad Richmond will mark 10 years of the weekly Torah studies class. A special event celebrating the past and launching the future will feature guest speaker Rabbi Manis Friedman, a renowned lecturer, counselor and author of several books and many articles. The topic is The Top 10 Reasons to Study Torah.

Starting in 2011 as a small group that met with Rabbi Yechiel Baitelman to discuss the weekly parashah (Torah portion), this assembly of retirees has grown to more than 20 people weekly.

“While not exclusively the domain of the retired, these weekly morning Torah classes mainly attract seniors,” said Baitelman. “Not only are local Richmond and Vancouver folks attending, but participants from Alberta and Quebec are joining virtually as well. During the pandemic, with more people working from home, we have some younger participants, too. Everyone is welcome.”

When the pandemic struck last year, Baitelman recognized the need for the continuity of Torah studies and immediately started offering classes via Zoom. These weekly classes have provided learning, but, more importantly, inspiration.

Richmond resident and longtime Chabad attendee Grace Jampolsky approached Baitelman back in 2011 and asked if he would offer a weekly Torah class. She gathered a few friends, and so began the 10-year tradition that is now a foundational part of the participants’ lives. The weekly class is a program of the Rohr Jewish Learning Institute of Richmond.

Acknowledging Chabad Richmond’s accomplishments to date, Baitelman said, “It’s all about celebrating our past learning and looking forward to growth and continued learning for the future. The continuity of weekly Torah study over 10 years is a real milestone. It represents thousands of hours spent studying the Torah portion of the week together, interactively, as a community of learners.”

As the participants attest, the classes have had a positive impact on expanding their Jewishness.

“If you were to ask me what the goals of the Torah classes are, I’d say it’s two-pronged goal – to increase class attendance and to share a love of Torah with our community,” said Baitelman.

Speaking with a few of the initial attendees, it became apparent that it’s not just the content of the classes that resonates with people, it’s Baitelman’s approach to teaching.

Ralph and Gina Blasbalg are two of the original members and, when asked how the classes have impacted their lives, Ralph Blasbalg said: “It’s always something to look forward to, especially when we’re cocooning during the pandemic. We don’t go out very much because we’re very vulnerable. The Torah lessons, the talks, the spirited wisdom of our rabbi – we are so lucky to have this rabbi in our community. Rabbi Baitelman is such a mensch, he’s just a wonderful human being.”

When asked how it’s enriched their lives, he added: “First of all, the knowledge that we are gaining, the knowledge about Torah, the knowledge about our community and the responsibilities that each one of us has to share and pay forward to the community. And the benefit that it gives to us, meaning that we have a sense of belonging, and we realize how our ancestors lived and how faith supported them through even worse times. We just have a pandemic – they had pogroms and illness and suppression and oppression … and, still, this faith, this Yiddishkeit, the manner of living by the Torah rules – the manual of life – is so important to us, for me, it’s definitely giving me that.”

Former participant Stevie Steiner said: “I was one of the first people in the group … and I attended for several years. I loved that class. It gave my life more meaning and purpose. If I went to the class tired, by the time it was over, I found myself so uplifted, or thoughtful. It made me look at things very differently, and very positively. Rabbi Baitelman always saw the glass half full, rather than half empty. It made quite a difference in my life actually. Rabbi Baitelman is a wonderful man and excellent teacher. He’s got a talent for getting the lesson across. The material was always very relevant. The rabbi was a very positive influence.”

Regular participant Maria Hughes said: “The weekly Torah classes have had a big effect on me. I’m from Russia, where there were no Torah classes, no nothing. I just knew I was Jewish because it was in my past, but I was discriminated against everywhere there. I went to live in Israel, but didn’t go to synagogue because I felt like an outsider and we didn’t know Hebrew. When I came to live in Richmond and started attending Chabad Richmond, I really started learning about Judaism and started feeling more and more proud of being Jewish…. It was like the puzzle came together. I started studying more and loving it. So I started talking to my daughter (who lives in Israel) about it a lot and we had different discussions. She was not religious at all … but, slowly, my daughter started keeping Shabbat and I think my influence was a big part of it. My talking about Judaism had a big effect on her. It affected not just me, but also my daughter and grandchildren. It affected a whole generation.”

Ezra Shanken, chief executive officer of the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver; Rabbi Efraim Mintz, executive director of the Rohr Jewish Learning Institute; and Sheldon Kuchinsky, board member of Chabad Richmond, will be present to offer greetings at the celebration of the class’s 10 years.

Guest speaker Friedman is the dean of Bais Chana Institute of Jewish Studies, the world’s first yeshiva exclusively for women. He hosts his own cable TV series, Torah Forum with Manis Friedman, which is syndicated throughout North America.

The event takes place at 7 p.m. on June 1 via Zoom at chabadrichmond.com/celebrate. Register online using the link, or call 604-277-6427. Everyone is welcome.

Where I’ve been this year

After listening to Dr. Betsy Stone during a community workshop called A Year of Upheaval: What has Trauma Done to our Bodies and our Brains?, I decided to take her advice and tell my story. According to Stone, “Healing requires storytelling … we tell our stories so we’ll understand our experience differently.”

The past 15 months have been a journey for all of us. Some more than others, but no one has not “traveled” during the pandemic. And, by travel, I mean change. Whether we’re brave enough (honest enough?) to admit it or not, we have all been transformed. Call it trauma, call it what you like. It’s all a matter of semantics. Not everyone is as vocal as I am, or as filled with anxiety about COVID, but no one comes out of this horrible shindig unscathed.

Whether your resilience lies in emotional strength or a feeling of invincibility, or whether you’re firmly entrenched in that big river in Egypt (denial), we all cope in our own ways. There is no one right way through this. You can’t go over it, you can’t go under it – you can only go through it. Putting our experience into words brings new life to it, new insights. Speaking it makes it even more real and, maybe, just maybe, easier to cope with.

So, where have I been this year? I wish I could answer that with geographic precision. What comes to mind is: home. And, occasionally, the pharmacy and grocery store, as well as walks close to home. While I hate to say that the pandemic has been my world, it’s hard to escape the reality of that pronouncement. I fully admit my obsession with the pandemic, my fear and my single-minded focus on how to stay healthy. I won’t apologize for it, or feel less-than. It is what it is.

That doesn’t mean to say that my fear has prevented me from seeing silver linings during this unparalleled time. There has definitely been more than one “there-must-be-a-pony” moment. The most important one being that my nephew and his wife had a baby boy near the start of the pandemic. It doesn’t get any better than that. In random order after that, I have thrown myself into the deep end of the pool with Torah classes and other religious learning. Next on my list is that I started on a life-changing medical treatment that makes my life much easier. I have made new friends and acquaintances through the numerous Zoom classes I attend nearly every day. I am exercising 100% more than I did pre-pandemic. I might sleep less, but my brain has expanded. In the good way. And that’s just the beginning.

All this is by way of saying that, while I wouldn’t award COVID first place in a popularity contest, it has had its bright spots. It has impacted my perspective on all things, in a way that nothing else has, to that degree. When I think about what’s important now, my pre-COVID list is almost laughable. I, like many others, have embraced the basics: health and safety, family, faith and trust.

When I think of the trajectory of this past 15 months, it’s hard to articulate. Or, more to the point, what our reactions have been. Have I learned to be more trusting, or more suspicious? Have I expanded my capacity for compassion, or have I become more selfish? Have I anchored my experiences in religious belief, or have I trusted in science? Have I given in to my fears, or have I conquered them? While I’ve always tended to lean towards the black and white, there really are no absolutes right now. There are, however, firm yeses and hard no’s. I am reconsidering everything I once was certain about. The $64,000 question is whether I will be able to integrate what I’ve learned and turn it into something positive when all this is over. Or, better yet, before all this is over. The jury is still out. But I’m hopeful.

I have become exponentially more grateful for the simple things: my devoted husband who is my perfect companion in life; that I have a loving and lovely family; that I have never had to worry about where my next meal will come from; that I live in a part of the world that has great doctors, easy access to medical care and all the outdoor green spaces you could ever ask for; and that I have mentors and friends. I could go on ad infinitum.

Too often, I see the clouds instead of the blue sky that’s right behind it. I see impediments where there don’t have to be any. Positivity is a steep learning curve for me. It’s funny that I used to consider myself an optimist. Since the pandemic, I’ve come to see how maybe-not-true that is. Not that I’m proud of it, it’s just the current reality. But I’m trying pointedly to turn that around. There are days where I see hope staring me in the face everywhere. Literally everywhere. Other days, it’s just fog and darkness. I know I’m hardly unique in this.

So, in truth, I have been lots of places this year. Mostly in my head. But some real places, too. Like a certain street in Shaughnessy that’s filled with huge trees, beautiful homes and no people walking about. A place where it’s safe for me to take off my face mask for a block or two. Until I see someone. I have also been to a place of sheer, unnamable joy, seeing my tiny great-nephew on WhatsApp video. I have discovered flowers I never knew existed, in areas I’d never walked before (despite being a native Vancouverite). I have traveled via Zoom to other countries, for learning and sometimes for pleasure. But pleasures that don’t involve a beach or a buffet. And I travel constantly in my dreams.

Every day of this pandemic, I have learned something. About myself, about others, about faith. That’s got to count for something, right? When we all heal from what Stone calls this “trauma,” we’re definitely going to come out of it changed. Whether that change is positive or negative, or a combination of both, is up to us entirely. My commitment to myself is that I’m going to try and lay the groundwork for an improved Shelley. A less anxious, more trusting, deliberately positive Shelley.

I guarantee you’ll still recognize me, though. I’ll be the one still wearing a facemask a year from now. Or maybe not.

Spinach’s versatility, power

With spinach cheese pie, there likely won’t be leftovers. (photo from Shelley Civkin)

What’s chock-a-block full of healthy vitamins and minerals, packed with fibre and gives you humongous muscles, if Popeye, the muscle-bound, pipe-smoking sailor is to be believed? You got it – spinach! According to the internet (and who doesn’t believe everything there), the comic strip hero Popeye helped increase American consumption of the once-much-maligned spinach by around 30%. All because of his eating habits. Popeye’s famous line – “I’m strong to the finish ’cause I eats me spinach” – while grammatically heinous, does have a whiff of truth to it. Apparently, spinach, which contains lots of iron, can boost muscle strength. So, listen to pumped-up Popeye and eat your spinach! You might even want to try it with a little Olive Oyl.

Personally, I don’t see what all the fuss and resistance is about. It’s such a versatile vegetable – you can sauté it, make a salad out of it, use it in lasagna, mix it together with orzo, feta and sundried tomatoes. The sky’s the limit. Spinach is the quintessential blank canvas, but adds the health factor and colour element that every bona fide foodie seeks.

One of my favourite ways to use spinach is in a dish that can serve as a main or a side. Even spinach haters adore my famous spinach cheese pie. The recipe is straightforward, relatively healthy (unless you’re lactose intolerant or fat-phobic) and never fails to elicit endless oohs and aahs. For those people who can’t tolerate milk products, you can always substitute soy cheese and lactose-free milk. You can barely tell the difference. You can thank me later.

SPINACH CHEESE PIE

2 tbsp butter
3 eggs
3/4 cup flour
1 cup milk
2 10-ounce packages frozen spinach (cooked)
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking powder
1 lb Monterrey Jack cheese, grated

Preheat oven to 325ºF. Melt butter in a 9-by-13-inch glass pan. Make sure the melted butter coats the bottom and sides of the pan.

Cook and drain spinach. Be sure to squeeze out all the water, then chop it finely in a food processor.

In a large bowl, beat the eggs. Add dry ingredients (flour, salt, baking powder) and milk, alternately. Mix well by hand.

Add grated cheese and spinach, and mix well by hand. Pour into the prepared pan.

Bake for 35 to 40 minutes, until slightly brown on top. Cool at least 30 minutes, then cut into squares and serve. I’m usually too hungry and skip this last step of waiting. Cooling it down, however, does make it easier to cut. And, well, patience is a virtue.

This spinach pie freezes really well and reheats perfectly in the microwave, but, believe me, there usually isn’t anything left to freeze or reheat. On one or two occasions, I’ve been known to eat it cold, right out of the fridge. Late at night. With a certain clandestine aura about me. Right … busted.

While your family – or, in non-COVID times, your guests … remember what those are? – relaxes before dinner, waiting with bated breath for your spinach cheese pie, you can serve them my popular olive dip. Caveat: I don’t have a particular recipe for it and I don’t use specific measurements – I just taste it as I go along. For someone who’s a hardcore Type A personality, this is highly unusual behaviour. But, somehow, I’m able to operate on simple faith when it comes to this. Truth to tell, it’s pretty hard to screw up.

Another caveat: even in non-COVID times, or inside your COVID bubble, be sure not to breathe on strangers or prospective love interests after eating this dip, because the garlic is flavour-forward. Depending on your love/tolerance for garlic, add as little or as much as you want. I start with one clove, but I’ve been known to up the ante for a large batch. This olive dip is decidedly non-dietetic, unfriendly for hypertensives and verboten for those watching their cholesterol. Otherwise, it’s the perfect pre-dinner dip. It makes a great tapas dish, and plays well with other Middle Eastern appies like hummus and baba ghanoush.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I never met an olive I didn’t like. My recipe calls for the plebian green olives stuffed with pimento, but, if you’re a risk-taker, you could try using other kinds. Just be sure not to use ones with an overpowering flavour. The mayonnaise in my recipe tends to smooth out the flavour and make it less sharp, so consider that when choosing your olives.

I never get sick of this recipe and it’s one of those dips you just can’t get enough of. It’s cheap and easy. Pre-COVID, I used to serve this a lot to friends, who would stuff themselves on the dip, then wonder why they were too full to eat dinner. Of course, the pita I serve with it makes it a much more filling appie. People will think you went to all sorts of trouble making it, so, if you want to maintain your kitchen cred, pretend that it’s an old family recipe and politely decline when they ask you to share it. Or … be a sport and let the world know what a lazy cook you really are.

OLIVE DIP

green olives with pimento (also called Manzanilla olives)
mayonnaise
fresh garlic
a squeeze of lemon juice (optional)

Throw all the ingredients into a food processor and blend away! It’s a dish best served cold (as is revenge), but really any temperature will do.

Pita or pita chips are a filling way to stretch this appetizer, but it also works nicely with crackers or thick potato chips. If you want to zhuzh it up a notch, add a couple of black Moroccan olives to it. And make lots of it because, mark my words, it’ll go fast. I’ve been caught dipping my toast into it for breakfast more than once. And, yes, I’m aware that garlic breakfast breath is not overly appealing, but I always floss and brush extra exuberantly after doing this. And, I usually do it when no one’s around. But be sure to turn off the nanny cam first.

The home comfort of soup

Cookie + Kate’s creamy roasted carrot soup, as made by the Accidental Balabusta. (photo by Shelley Civkin)

Nothing screams for comfort food quite like a COVID-19 pandemic. And nothing spells comfort food quite like soup. So, while the spirit of sharing is upon me, I present to you: roasted carrot soup. I’d love to say I made the recipe up, but you know I’d be lying. Credit where credit is due, and all that. It’s a recipe by blogger Kate, who, along with her canine sidekick, Cookie, make up the duo Cookie + Kate. (Why the dog gets top billing, I don’t know. Maybe he’s the taste-tester?)

I suppose it was one of these endless pandemic days where I was stumped for dinner ideas and thought – soup. It’s filling, especially if you add a nice sourdough or baguette, and you don’t need to make a bunch of other stuff, really. A salad, maybe? Perfect for lazy cooks.

The Cookie + Kate recipe is easy, if time-consuming, but you won’t regret it, I promise. And it’s creamy and dreamy, with no dairy in it at all. Prosaic as it sounds, this soup is like hitting the culinary lottery. Don’t be put off by the multitude of instructions; it’s worth every single one. Being a lover of platitudes, you know what they say – the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

CREAMY ROASTED CARROT SOUP

2 pounds carrots
3 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil, divided
3/4 tsp fine sea salt, divided
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
2 cloves minced garlic
1/2 tsp ground coriander
1/4 tsp ground cumin
4 cups chicken broth or vegetable broth
2 cups water
1 to 2 tbsp unsalted butter
1 to 1 1/2 tsp lemon juice, to taste
freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Preheat oven to 400ºF. Line a large rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.
Peel carrots then cut them on the diagonal so each piece is about a half-inch thick at the widest part.
Place carrots in a plastic bag with two tablespoons olive oil and half teaspoon salt. Massage them so all carrots are coated in oil. Arrange on the baking sheet in a single layer.
Roast carrots until they’re caramelized on the edges and easily pierced with a fork, 35 to 40 minutes, flipping halfway.
Once the carrots are almost done, warm the remaining one tablespoon olive oil in a soup pot over medium heat until shimmering. Add the onion and quarter teaspoon salt. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion is soft and turning translucent, five to seven minutes.
Add the garlic, coriander and cumin. Cook until fragrant while stirring constantly, about 30 seconds to one minute. Pour in the vegetable broth and water, while scraping up any browned bits on the bottom with a wooden spoon.
Add the roasted carrots to the pot once they’re cooked. Add the butter, lemon juice and pepper. Bring the mixture to a boil over high heat, then reduce the heat to maintain a gentle simmer. Cook for 15 minutes.
Once the soup is done cooking, remove the pot from the heat and let it cool for a few minutes. Then, carefully transfer the hot soup to a blender, working in batches if necessary. (Don’t fill past the maximum fill line.)
Blend until completely smooth. Add additional salt and pepper if necessary. It’s ready to serve.
Keeps well in the refrigerator, covered, for about four days, or for several months in the freezer. But, believe me, it won’t make it to the freezer.

APPLE RUM NOODLE KUGEL
(Since it is mere weeks until Pesach, now is the time to get your kugel on. This one is a boozy take on the traditional apple noodle kugel. It’s sweet, slightly alcoholic and scrumptious.)

2 tbsp unsalted butter
3 large apples, peeled, cored and diced into 1/4” to 1/2” pieces
12 oz curly broad egg noodles
4 eggs
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 tbsp rum
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

Preheat oven to 350ºF. Grease a 9”-by-13” baking dish.
Begin heating a large pot of water.
Melt one tablespoon butter over medium-high heat in a large skillet and add the apples. Cook, tossing in the pan, until they begin to colour and are slightly tender, about five minutes. Remove from heat.
When the water comes to a boil, add the noodles. Cook as per the package instructions, then drain through a colander and add them to the pan with the apples. Add the remaining tablespoon butter and toss together until the butter melts. Set aside to cool.
Beat the eggs in a large bowl. Add the sugar and beat together. Beat in the vanilla, rum and cinnamon.
Add the noodles and apples and fold everything together. Pour into the prepared baking dish.
Bake covered with foil, for approximately 20 minutes, then uncovered for the remaining 20-25 minutes, until the kugel is set and the sides are browned. If you like the noodles crispier on top, remove the foil a bit earlier. Allow to sit for at least 10 minutes before serving.

The rum makes it just a little naughty, and exceedingly rich-tasting. Definitely company-worthy. Not that we can have people over during a pandemic, but still. Like my father Sidney, alav hashalom, used to say: “I’m the most important company in my own home!” That, by the way, was his standard response whenever anyone asked him why he always used a linen napkin (even at breakfast). The fact was, the paper ones slipped off his lap, but never mind. He deserved the best.

When everything you need to know about 2020 (and 2021, so far) can be summed up by Velcro, Spandex, Zoom and facemasks, it’s nice to kick it up a notch just for, well, no good reason at all, except that you can. So, treat yourself to a little mid-week decadence and throw in that kugel rum. You might even want to indulge in a little shot glass of the stuff before dinner, just to round out the meal. Or not.

A livelihood, not a hobby

So enthralled am I by the sheer volume and calibre of free online Jewish learning opportunities since the start of the pandemic, that I sometimes forget that the people who do the teaching do it as their livelihood, not as a hobby. Therein lies the problem.

We, the students, the partakers of all manner and sorts of online classes and lectures during COVID, gobble up the learning as though it’s candy, or fine wine. We sit in front of our laptops, tablets and smartphones and act for all the world as though we deserve this high level of education. It should rain down upon us. We’re Jews. We’re the People of the Book. We’re entitled. Teach us!

Make no mistake: we are blessed to be the recipients of this stratospheric level of dedication, and we should not and cannot take it for granted.

But, sometimes, we forget.

We forget that the rabbi or rebbetzin or Jewish scholar or educator who is teaching us needs to feed their family and pay their bills. We forget that we need to support them just like they support us. Too often, we blithely go on learning from week to week, month to month, blissfully ignoring this reality. Yet, we expect a paycheque. Or a pension check, if we’re lucky. Why shouldn’t they?

Zoom classes have become as common as dust since the beginning of the pandemic. Every Jewish religious and/or spiritual organization I can think of is offering Zoom classes weekly, if not daily. They have filled the gaping holes that once were our thriving, healthy, “normal” lives. These same Jewish organizations recognize the desperate need for some kind of normalization, some sort of lifesaver for people to hang onto. In the absence of our daily routines of work, socializing and gathering together as a community, there is little left to celebrate, never mind sustain us. Local synagogues have leaped into the abyss to lift us all up, or those of us who needed lifting, anyway. They have rallied together to create curricula, offer Torah classes, general Jewish study courses, podcasts, livestream videos and so much more. Not only because it’s the source of their livelihood, but because they feel our desperate need, the soul’s yearning for Jewish learning.

There is enormous comfort in seeing others – even if only virtually – and knowing that we are studying Jewish topics together, learning as a community. The overwhelming isolation felt by so many people right now is beyond description. The personal losses, the devastating repercussions from COVID-19 can’t be counted. Our lives have been turned upside down in every way imaginable. And then some. But learning offers hope.

Sure, everyone copes differently with the pandemic, but anybody who says they haven’t been affected by it is just plain lying. Being the adaptable creatures that we are, we take comfort (or relief) where we can find it. For some, it’s food, or alcohol, or Netflix. For others, it’s learning. And, for others still, it must be Jewish learning. Something draws us – something draws me – to our heritage, our history, our Judaism. And, suddenly, we are home.

Myriad times, sitting in front of my computer during or after a Zoom class, usually given by a rabbi, I find myself weeping. Partly as a release from all the stress and anxiety I’m feeling right now; but mostly from a deep sense of gratitude. Gratitude that we, as a community of Jews, haven’t been forgotten. That, amid the detritus of COVID, our faith leaders have intuitively known that we need help, that we can’t do this on our own. So they step up to the plate, full of enthusiasm and inspiration, and they fill us up. Not only do the classes inform us and expand our brains, but they benefit us by keeping us moving forward in a meaningful, purposeful way.

So, why am I writing all this? To remind each and every one of us, myself included, that we should be menschen and pay the favour forward. Pay it, literally, to every rabbi and rebbetzin and Jewish scholar or other educator who shares not only their time, but their wisdom, to help us get through this pandemic in the most meaningful way they know how. Make a donation. Show you care. Make as many donations as you’re able. Big or small, the act is a sign of appreciation. A sign that we value the learning. A sign that we know little, and yearn to know more. A sign that we appreciate their caring, knowing that they will do anything in their power to help. And G-d knows we need it right now. So, whatever we do, we shouldn’t forget to support those who support us.

It would be the century’s grossest understatement to say that I’ve learned a lot during the pandemic. Sure, I’ve learned immeasurable things about human nature and caring and compassion. But I’ve also expanded my Jewish learning a hundred-fold, maybe a thousand-fold. The pandemic has given me the time. But those doing the teaching have given me the inspiration, the foundation, the thirst for more. Instead of being overcome with hopelessness, I’m filled with hope. I see a pattern to life, a way out of this. That is no small thing. We need to pay it forward. Or pay it back. Either one will do.

If there’s a global sense of helplessness pervading much of what we do these days, we can counteract that by not only feeling grateful, but showing it. It could be construed as crass to say that we should pay for our Zoom classes and livestream lectures and podcasts. So be it. Call me crass. It wouldn’t be the first time. Just get out that credit card and do the right thing.

What makes people happy?

Simon Fraser University Prof. Lara Aknin (photo from SFU Communications & Marketing)

There are several paths to finding happiness, according to Prof. Laura Aknin. “But a central theme that rises above the rest is that a lot of happiness comes from our relationships with other people, and how we help and give to others.”

Aknin will deliver the talk A Reality Check, for Good: A Talk on Happiness via Zoom on Feb. 22.

“Guest speaker Lara Aknin is a distinguished associate professor of psychology at Simon Fraser University, and director of the Helping and Happiness Social Psychology Lab at SFU,” said Rabbi Yechiel Baitelman, director of Chabad Richmond. Born and educated in Vancouver, Aknin became interested in social psychology and human emotions while studying as an undergrad and graduate student at the University of British Columbia. According to Aknin, “Human emotions colour our existence, and bring meaning to a lot of what we do.”

Among Aknin’s research interests are well-being, happiness, social relationships, prosocial behaviour and altruism. She established the Helping and Happiness Social Psychology Lab, which studies the predictors of happiness and what makes people happy, the emotional consequences of kind and generous behaviour, and the well-being outcomes of specific spending choices. The lab also looks at how people can increase their happiness.

“Happiness is broadly universal, yet religious people tend to report higher levels of happiness,” said Aknin, when asked how happiness relates to Judaism. “One of the major lessons emerging from our helping and happiness lab and our study of well-being is that it’s not just what we do for ourselves, it’s what we do for others. When we help others and give to others, that’s when we find happiness.”

While not overtly connected, it appears that happiness aligns with Judaism’s emphasis on giving tzedakah and doing mitzvot.

“Helping others is a pretty clear and reliable path to experiencing greater well-being,” confirmed Aknin.

While acknowledging that religion is not her specific area of research, Aknin said, “The notion, or central message that giving to others, whether it be G-d or other people in your community or beyond is a meaningful source of finding joy, reward, value and meaning in life, is certainly aligned with the evidence in the literature.”

A fundamental concept in Judaism is the importance of serving G-d with joy.

“The emotional rewards of giving are a psychological universal, not just particular to the Jewish faith, but it might align with many of the teachings of the Jewish faith and others,” said Aknin. “Researchers see this not just in North America, but in rich and poor countries around the globe. We see it in kids under the age of 2 … we see it in ex-offenders. People experience emotional rewards when they engage in kind behaviour. Many religious principles regularly espouse the value and virtue of giving to others … these ideas have been around for centuries, but the evidence is now documenting the importance of this.”

The topic of helping and happiness resonates with people.

“At some level,” said Aknin, “our intuition says that giving to others is emotionally rewarding but, in real life, people are spending more on themselves – out of necessity, for things like paying their bills, [but] we often overlook opportunities [to give] and would be better off spending the money in our pocket on someone else, rather than on an extra coffee.”

Is it always about our own sense of well-being or is happiness a byproduct of something more altruistic? Is it selfish, for example, to donate clothes to a homeless shelter because it makes us feel good? Is it wrong to have a sense of well-being when we give to others?

“Those questions are central to the work that I do,” Aknin said. “It’s important to distinguish what the motives are for giving in the first place, versus how do you feel afterwards. There’s no question that there are emotional benefits for the giver, and that donating one’s time or money to others promotes well-being and increases life satisfaction. Sometimes, people give to feel good but, by and large, people are giving because they think it’s the right thing to do, and they want to help the person in need. Feeling good about it afterwards isn’t a bad thing. On the contrary, I think that’s a beautiful feature of human behaviour. It serves a purpose to help inspire us to do it again. It’s indicative of a care for humanity. Feeling indifference after giving would be more surprising.”

Aknin said happy people tend to have strong social relationships, they tend to be individuals who donate. and they tend to be relatively comfortable with where they are in life, not only financially, but also proud of what they’ve accomplished. Happy people also tend to live in a safe environment, she said, so being able to trust your neighbours is important.

Aknin is working on a commission that’s studying the trends around happiness and physical/mental health. Findings show that, during the COVID-19 pandemic, most people’s physical and mental health has suffered.

“Negative emotions are up, mental distress is up, depression and anxiety are up. Yet, despite all that, there is still some resilience and stability,” she said. The pandemic has given people time to evaluate their lives, and there is still much stability to be seen.

Aknin said some behaviours that are “protective,” such as exercise, make us feel better. “But people still feel better when they’re helping others,” she said.

According to Aknin, most people are happy, because “we’re very adaptive”; even though we think we aren’t, we are.

When asked if she’s happy doing what she’s doing, Aknin replied: “Yes, there’s great meaning and purpose in what I do.”

To register for Aknin’s Feb. 22, 8 p.m., talk, go to chabadrichmond.com/happiness.

Cookin’ old school meatloaf

As if the pandemic weren’t enough, I’m supposed to think of something tantalizing and healthy to cook every night? Right. Roger that. My motto is: go with the tried and true. Or, given the times we’re in: go with the tired and true. Translation: something my mom used to make in the 1960s and ’70s. Something delicious but notoriously unhealthy.

Let’s face it, back then, the general public didn’t know bupkas about heart-healthy diets, Keto or low cholesterol. Not even doctors’ families. Nobody measured their BMI (body mass index) at the gym, because no one went to the gym. No one had their goal weight etched in their brain. It was a kinder, gentler time. Albeit with lots more spontaneous and fatal heart attacks and strokes. But still.

Back to the task at hand. It was a dark and stormy afternoon. I was tired. Really tired. Of cooking. But we have to eat. So, I did what any self-respecting accidental balabusta would do: I pulled out my mother’s old National Council of Jewish Women Cookbook. It’s a miracle that it isn’t falling apart after all these decades doing yeoman service. As I was searching for something simple and doable within 30 minutes, I happened upon a dog-eared page. One my mother had probably marked for good reason. Which is ironic, since the standing joke in my family was this – as soon as my mom cooked anything that my dad loved, she never made it again. We’ve speculated on the rationale for years. Was it intentional? Happenstance? Payback for something? Maybe it had to do with the electric can opener my dad gave mom for her birthday one year; or was it their anniversary?

The dog-eared recipe, thankfully, was – drum roll, please – Meatloaf. Yes, Virginia, you heard correctly, Meatloaf. I capitalize it because, well, it deserves the recognition. There is no problem in this world that can’t be solved by a good meatloaf. (Alright, maybe athlete’s foot and world wars, but, otherwise….)

In sync with the majority of the recipes in that cookbook, it called for an envelope of onion soup mix, undoubtedly a staple in those days. Chip dip – sour cream and onion soup mix. Spinach delight – onion soup mix. Apricot chicken – onion soup mix. Being a culinary rebel (ha!), I decided to go rogue and omit the onion soup mix. I had to draw my own line in the sand. And I swapped Panko for breadcrumbs. This recipe makes a moist, dream-of-a-1960s dinner. Once again, you’re welcome. You may be excused from the table.

MEATLOAF

2 lbs ground beef (extra lean)
1 1/2 cup soft breadcrumbs (or Panko)
2 eggs
1/2 to 3/4 cup water
1/3 cup ketchup (or, as they called it in the ’60s, catsup)

Preheat the oven to 350°F. In a large bowl, combine all the ingredients and place the mix into a greased loaf pan. (I covered the top with more ketchup – I know, very radical). Bake for approximately one hour.

It doesn’t get much easier than this. Seriously. Both Harvey and I kept cutting little pieces off, to even out the end. We were insatiable! We easily ate half of this two-pound loaf in one sitting, and polished off the rest the next day in sandwiches. What can I say? We’re dyed-in-the-wool carnivores.

To switch it up a little, and marry old school to multicultural, I also made Greek lemon potatoes. While I could eat meat and potatoes every night of the week, I don’t. And don’t go getting all judgy on me, either – there was broccoli in attendance.

The Greek lemon potatoes were a new thing for me (the making part), and I only made the Greek kind because I had a bunch of fresh rosemary leftover from baking focaccia the day before. (It was delicious!) Plus, we had a truckload of lemons in the fridge getting overripe from neglect (scurvy in our future?). I have to say, the potatoes were simple and simply delicious. Again, Harvey declared them “guest-worthy.”

GREEK LEMON POTATOES
(from recipetineats.com)

2.5 lbs potatoes (about 4 large russets)
1 1/2 cups chicken broth
1/2 cup olive oil
1/3 cup fresh lemon juice
5 cloves garlic, minced (I used 4)
2 tsp salt (I used 1 tsp)
dash of pepper
1 tbsp dried oregano (I used 2 tbsp fresh rosemary instead)

Preheat oven to 400°F. Peel the potatoes and cut into semi-thick wedges. Place in a roasting pan with all the other ingredients; toss well. Roast covered with foil for 40 minutes. Remove foil and turn the potatoes. Roast for another 25 to 30 minutes until the liquid is mostly absorbed by the potatoes. If you like your potatoes a bit crispy, leave them in for another five minutes or so.

They end up super-moist, soft, lemony and fabulous. Oh yeah, and garlicky. Harvey said they were even better than the ones at Apollonia, our favourite Greek restaurant. It was hard to refrain from eating the whole darn batch, but we showed the teensiest bit of restraint. After all, we wanted some left over for the next day. They’re like potato candy, if you will. Except better.

Sometimes, the most obvious recipes are the best. I often consult that Council cookbook. Who better to advise on such Jewish delicacies as honey-glazed cocktail franks, deviled tongue canapes and fruited rice salad? I rest my case.

There’s no question that the NCJW of Canada does many admirable things to enhance the community through education, social action, furthering human welfare and more. Far be it from me to make it sound like all they did was produce a cookbook. But, thank you, NCJWC for having done so – the meatloaf alone is worth the price of admission. And, of course, kol hakavod for all the great work you do.

Shelley Civkin, aka the Accidental Balabusta, is a happily retired librarian and communications officer. For 17 years, she wrote a weekly book review column for the Richmond Review. She’s currently a freelance writer and volunteer.

Daring to make tofu, quinoa

It started out as a culinary experiment. A desire to try something completely out of my wheelhouse. Something I knew my husband Harvey would not eat. It involved tofu. And peanut sauce. I was sure he’d like the second part. As for eating tofu, he’d rather have his wisdom teeth pulled out through his ears. But I like tofu, so the dish was for me. And, lest you think I’m a selfish cook, let me be clear: this was a lunch experiment. And I knew that Harvey was already taken care of for lunch.

Since I know that online cooks (and their reviewers) never lie (ha!) I took the word of someone who claimed to have the easiest, tastiest recipe for crispy baked tofu with peanut sauce. Optimum word being “easiest.” I have a rule: if a recipe has more than seven ingredients or more than 10 steps, fuggedaboudit. It’s not like I have a day job and a pack of children vying for my attention. But I’ve always questioned the sanity of preparing and cooking for several hours only to have the eating of the meal take 12 minutes. Just doesn’t seem right. So it’s easy or it’s takeout.

PEANUT SAUCE
(six servings)

1/2 cup creamy peanut butter
1 cup full fat coconut milk
2 tbsp low-sodium soy sauce
2 tbsp maple syrup
2 tsp fresh grated ginger
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tbsp fresh lime juice (about 1 large lime)
chopped cilantro and chopped peanuts (optional, for serving)

Add all the ingredients to a medium saucepan, turn the heat to medium and stir constantly until smooth and creamy, about five to 10 minutes.

It doesn’t get much simpler than that. You’ll notice I’m not giving you the recipe for the crispy baked tofu. Why? Because it sucked. The recipe I tried called for extra firm tofu and, according to reviews, it was supposed to come out “crispy on the outside and pillowy soft on the inside.” More like tough, rubbery and tasteless. It could have been my bad. I may have cubed it too small and overcooked it. But I’ll never know. Because tofu is not going to be making an appearance in my home again any time soon. Which is not a problem because, as it turns out, the peanut sauce is spectacular on steak, chicken, broccoli and pretty much every other foodstuff. One sauce fits all, so to speak. A sauce for all seasons. Stop me anytime.

On a happier note, I discovered a different Asian recipe that was a big hit with hubby – Asian Quinoa Meatballs. Like tofu, Harvey would rather stick a fork through his hand than eat quinoa, so I had to improvise and use rice instead. But the result was proclaimed “guest-worthy.” I did break my own rule of no more than seven ingredients, but it was worth it.

ASIAN QUINOA MEATBALLS

1 lb ground turkey (we like dark meat since white is too lean)
3/4 cup cooked quinoa (or rice)
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 green onions, thinly sliced
1 large egg
1 tbsp soy sauce
2 tsp sesame oil
1 tsp Sriracha, or more, to taste (optional)
kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
1/2 tsp sesame seeds

sauce
1/4 cup soy sauce
2 tbsp rice vinegar
1 tbsp freshly grated ginger
1 tbsp brown sugar, packed
1 tsp sesame oil
1 tsp Sriracha, or more, to taste (optional)
1/2 cup water, plus 1 tbsp
2 tsp cornstarch

Preheat oven to 400°F. Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper.
In a large bowl, combine ground turkey, quinoa (or rice), garlic, onions, egg, soy sauce, sesame oil, Sriracha (optional), salt and pepper. Using a wooden spoon, stir until well combined. Roll the mixture into 1.25” to 1.5” meatballs, forming about 18-20 meatballs.
Place meatballs onto the lined cookie sheet and bake for 18-20 minutes, or until all sides are browned and meatballs are cooked through. Turn once during baking.
To make the sauce, whisk together soy sauce, rice vinegar, ginger, sugar, sesame oil, Sriracha (optional) and the half cup of water in a small saucepan over medium high heat.
In a small bowl, whisk together cornstarch and one tablespoon water. Stir into soy sauce mixture until thickened, about two minutes.
Serve meatballs immediately with sauce, garnished with green onion and sesame seeds.

The taste is very gingery, so consider yourself forewarned. And, if you have hypertension, know that this recipe probably contains your week’s allotment of sodium. That said, it makes a great dinner over rice. Or even rice vermicelli noodles. Actually, it would be perfect for appetizers – when we get to hold dinner parties again, post-COVID. Plus, it’s just as good the next day. Keep in mind ground turkey is very lean, so be careful not to overcook the meatballs. I always buy dark meat to ensure more moistness. The recipe is a bit more patchkerai (fiddly and complicated) than I normally go for, but when I get a reaction like I did from my husband, that tells me all I need to know.

If all this pandemic stuff is making you a little stir-crazy, put your spare energy to good use and try out some new recipes. Your loved ones will thank you. Or not. Depending on whether there’s tofu or quinoa involved. I once tried to sneak a little quinoa into a salad and Harvey sniffed it out like a bloodhound. That was the last time I tried to deceive him culinarily. Clearly, his “just-put-it-in-my-bowl-and-I’ll-eat-it” claim is a touch weak. But I can’t blame him. Quinoa is an acquired taste (and smell). Maybe if I put some peanut sauce on it?