Life – Page 2

Improving the holiday table

These latkes can be made vegan, gluten-free and with reduced oil – or not. (photo by Michelle Dodek)

They tried to kill us, we survived, let’s eat. This refrain encapsulates how Jews celebrate a number of holidays and view our tumultuous history. In September, Congregation Beth Israel hosted a three-part High Holiday Cooking series. It was so popular that classes have been scheduled throughout the coming months to coincide with various holidays. Luckily for those who like to learn new cooking techniques and the history and symbolism behind Jewish food, there are plenty of holidays between now and the end of May.

First on the list is Hanukkah. Associated with oil, this winter holiday is a chance for Greater Vancouver Jews to throw off the shackles of green smoothies and embrace greasy carbs, for religious reasons.

The central event celebrated at Hanukkah is the liberation of the Temple in Jerusalem from the Seleucid Greeks, who had conquered the land of Israel and were attempting to forcibly convert all Jews. These events took place after the biblical era, so Hanukkah is not one of the holy days mentioned in the Torah. It is recorded in the Books of Maccabees.

Although not so religiously significant, Hanukkah is one of the most popular Jewish holidays, especially in North America. It’s dark outside and lighting candles to illuminate the darkness both literally and figuratively is cheering. In modern times, the heroic story of the small band of Jewish rebels taking on a mighty army and winning is especially poignant, given the many struggles facing the tiny modern state of Israel. And, let’s face it, having a fun Jewish foil to Christmas is helpful.

There is no requirement to refrain from work during Hanukkah, as there is for many other Jewish holidays. To accompany the week-plus of nightly candlelighting, we have special foods. Potato latkes are the most recognizable on the Ashkenazi menu, but rugelach are also traditionally prepared for Hanukkah. Why? The three ingredients in the dough are flour, butter and cream cheese. Lots of fat. Yum.

Sephardi and Mizrachi Jews connect the culinary dots much more succinctly. Sfinge is a delicious Moroccan free-form, deep-fried dough eaten on Hanukkah. Filled donuts, known widely as sufganiyot, have been part of Sephardi and Mizrachi traditions as well. Popularized in Israel by the Labour government in the 1950s, the making of donuts for Hanukkah was the tastiest of many job creation projects for Israel’s struggling economy. Although it was seasonal, encouraging bakeries to hire extra staff in November and December to fry up holiday cheer resulted in a national culture of amazingly tasty filled donuts.

The Dec. 2 Hanukkah cooking class at the BI was dedicated to helping people make out-of-the-box latkes with interesting toppings, as well as a couple of desserts that don’t require a pot of deep-frying oil. While the recipe for rugelach is simple, technique is needed to get the flakiest dough. There is a lot of room for creativity in the filling, but not everything will be a success, so spread thinly if you plan to try out the recipe below and see if your idea works first before producing a huge batch.

For more “Kitchen Judaism,” watch for other holiday cooking classes at Beth Israel. Classes will include Tu b’Shevat Temptations; Stuffed for Purim, featuring two classic filled foods; Seder and Shabbat Dinner Vegetarian-style; and Shavuot Dairy Delights.

SEASONAL LATKES
(These latkes can be made vegan, gluten-free and with reduced oil. The substitution of vegetables other than potatoes lowers the glycemic index, making the latkes better for diabetics, and more satiating and visually attractive.)

1 large onion, grated and squeezed
4 cups of the any of the following, grated: beets, winter squash (like kabocha, acorn, banana or butternut), carrots, turnips or parsnips
2 eggs
4 tbsp corn or potato starch
salt and pepper to taste
oil for frying

photo - These latkes can be made vegan, gluten-free and with reduced oil – or not — These latkes can be made vegan, gluten-free and with reduced oil – or not. *(photo by Michelle Dodek)*

Once the vegetables are grated and the excess liquid is squeezed out, combine all the ingredients, coating the vegetables well. Take a heaping tablespoon of the mixture and drop it into the hot oil. Do not squish them down, just spread out the mixture so the edges are thin and the middle has some volume. Repeat, making sure the latkes are spaced out enough to flip. Once the edges begin to brown, flip the latkes and fry a few more minutes. If you plan to freeze and reheat, cook for fewer minutes, then cool on layers of paper towels. To freeze the latkes, fully cool them, remove the paper towel and lay the latkes out in individual layers on trays for best results. Once frozen, put them into an airtight container.

To make a vegan version of this recipe, use flax eggs (one tablespoon of ground flax plus three tablespoons of water/”egg”). The baked version includes two tablespoons of olive oil in the mixture and is baked at 375˚F until brown.

RUGELACH

250g cream cheese (room temperature: leave out a maximum of 2 hours)
1 cup butter (room temperature: can be left out overnight)
2 cups flour
filling of choice: cinnamon, sugar, raisins, Nutella, jam (be creative)

Mix the cream cheese and butter until well creamed. Add the flour and mix until a soft dough is formed. Ideally, cover and refrigerate for two hours or overnight.

Preheat the oven to 350˚F. Line two cookie sheets with parchment or a baking mat. Divide the dough into four balls. Roll into three-millimetre-thick circles. They should be almost 25 centimetres wide.

Cover the dough with a thin layer of filling. Don’t be tempted to make it too thick because it will burn and make an enormous mess. If you’re using cinnamon and sugar, sprinkle three parts sugar and one part cinnamon all over the dough.

Cut the circles into 10 or 12 “pizza-shaped” slices. Roll from the outer edge into the centre, making a cute rolled-up shape. Put the rugelach on the cookie sheet and either freeze them on the pan and then transfer them to an airtight container or bake them immediately. Bake for 25 minutes or until lightly golden.

Rugelach really are 1,000 times better when eaten the day they’re made.

Michelle Dodek is a long-time contributor to the Jewish Independent and is a cooking instructor who specializes in Jewish and vegetarian cooking.

Vive la différence!

French is one of the main languages one hears on the streets of multicultural Jerusalem today, along with Hebrew, Arabic, English and Russian. More than 2,170 French Jews moved to Israel in 2024. The number in 2025 is projected to exceed 3,000. The wave of aliyah – driven by antisemitism and violence targeting Jews – has resulted in the establishment of scores of new patisseries, boulangeries and charcuteries – all kosher. Seen here is Foodies on Yoel Moshe Salomon Street. Nearby is Napoleon, one in a cluster of gourmet restaurants in Kikar Hamusica (Place de la Musique), established by former Parisian Laurent Levy, who is building Le Grand Hôtel.

Fresh, healthy comfort foods

Nico Pallota’s Greek Orzo Salad. (photo from hilltoprecipes.com)

My house, my rules. And those rules were recently transformed. No more fatty foods, no more carbs, no more booze. OK, an amendment is in order. Fewer fatty foods, fewer and more curated carbs, and still no booze. Apparently, I am my husband’s keeper, as far as food goes. Or, at least, food he consumes in our home. If he sneaks out for a sabich, it’s beyond my control. But, at home, I’m the food boss. Or, at least, while I’m awake. What Harvey does in the middle of the night or when I’m not around is another story. One that rarely ends well.

Lest I sound like an ogre or a nag-wife, let me assure you that I am both. But in a good way. I only want my hubby to be healthy and live a long life – if my nagging doesn’t kill him first, G-d forbid. I know, I know, I should stay in my own lane. But hey, don’t the rules of engagement (and marriage) stipulate that we look out for each other’s health and welfare? I’m sticking to that theory like velcro.

In the service of eating healthier meals, I found a refreshing hearty salad that will not only fill you up, but satisfy your tastebuds. Salads often present as side dishes, but this one can easily stand independently and confidently as a main dish. I found the recipe on one of my forays down the rabbit hole of Instagram. This super-easy recipe for Greek Orzo Salad with Marinated Chickpeas (by Nico Pallotta) jumped out at me as something that doesn’t call for a bunch of fancy-pants ingredients. It’s certifiably healthy, contains a respectable amount of protein (thanks to the feta cheese and chickpeas) and is ridiculously refreshing. Note: I omitted the onion, since onions and I have a love-hate relationship. Mostly hate.

GREEK ORZO SALAD WITH MARINATED CHICKPEAS

1 1/4 cup orzo pasta
1 can chickpeas (15oz/400g)
1 1/2 cups cherry tomatoes, halved or quartered
1 1/2 cups Persian cucumbers, diced
1/2 red onion, chopped (optional)
1/3 cup pitted Kalamata olives
4oz/100g feta cheese, crumbled

dressing
4 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
2 tbsp lemon juice and lemon zest
1 tbsp honey
1 tbsp Dijon mustard
1 1/2 tsp dried oregano
1/2 tsp salt and black pepper

In a bowl, whisk together all the dressing ingredients – olive oil, lemon juice and zest, honey, mustard, oregano, salt and pepper until smooth. Add the chickpeas (drained and rinsed), toss to coat and let sit 10 minutes. If you warm the chickpeas for 15-30 seconds in the microwave before tossing them with the dressing, they will soak up more flavour.

Boil the orzo pasta in salted water until al dente. Drain, rinse under cold water for 10 seconds and shake off excess water. Let it cool.

Add the cherry tomatoes, cucumber, red onion, olives and feta cheese to the chickpeas and dressing, and toss. Mix in the cooled orzo and serve right away or chill for 30 to 60 minutes for a more melded flavour.

This salad is a nice break from heavier meals that feature more aggressive proteins like meat or chicken. Never thought I’d anthropomorphize meat, but there it is. Harvey pronounced it “guest-worthy” (his highest accolade). He graciously told me I could make it anytime.

Colourful and vibrant, you can serve it with a baguette or sourdough bread and you’ve got yourself a complete meal. It keeps well in the fridge overnight, if you happen to have any left over. If you insist on consuming more protein, a light piece of salmon would pair nicely with it, or maybe a bowl of soup. I would rarely consider a salad a full-fledged dinner, as I’m a hardcore meat-and-potatoes kind of gal, but, in this case, it really did fill me up.

As for other nourishment, I recently stumbled upon an easy and luscious butternut squash soup recipe. It’s basically a sheet pan soup, where you roast the veggies, transfer them to a pot, add broth and then blend. Harvey proclaimed it “the world’s best soup!” (exclamation mark included).

BUTTERNUT SQUASH SOUP
(adapted from Sivan’s Kitchen on Instagram)

1 medium butternut squash
3 yams, peeled
4-5 carrots, peeled
tiny piece of white onion (since onion hates me)
1 whole garlic head with top cut off
2-inch piece of ginger, sliced thin
7 cups chicken broth
olive oil
salt and pepper
cinnamon

Preheat the oven to 400˚F. Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper and lightly drizzle with olive oil. Peel the carrots and rub with olive oil. Drizzle the garlic head with oil and wrap in foil.

Soften the squash by putting it in the microwave for two minutes – make sure to poke it with a knife a few times to let the steam escape.

Cut the squash and yams in half lengthwise (scoop out and discard the squash seeds), rub with olive oil, then season with salt, pepper and cinnamon.

Place the veggies cut side down on lightly oiled parchment. Add the onion, ginger and foil-wrapped garlic. Bake for one hour.

Scoop out the squash and put all the veggies into a large pot. Squeeze out the baked garlic into the pot. Add chicken broth and simmer for about 15 minutes, breaking up the roasted veggies. Let it cool a bit then puree it.

This soup is so silky smooth that you’d swear there was cream in it, but no cream was poured (or harmed) in its making. I swear. If there was ever a fall comfort food, this is it. According to Sivan’s Kitchen, the soup’s Israeli name is marak katom (orange soup). In whatever language, it’s spectacular. I think the cinnamon puts it over the top. So, stop wasting time and get your gourd on!

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.

Year-round holiday recipes

Tori Avey’s Honey Apple Bundt Cake before being dusted with sugar powder or decorated with icing. (photo by Shelley Civkin)

Rosh Hashanah may well be in the rearview mirror, but Tori Avey’s Honey Apple Bundt Cake (toriavey.com/honey-apple-cake) is guaranteed to be a staple on your dinner table, no matter the time of year. It’s definitely not your typical yontif honey cake that doubles as a brick. Filled with shredded apples, it not only satisfies your sweet tooth but is off-the-charts moist.

Except for the apple-shredding part, which I do by hand, this recipe is fast and easy. I used to have a food processor with a shredder attachment but I never used it, so I gave it to my niece. I also used to have a Bundt pan, but I rarely used it, so I gave it to my niece. She now has an extensive collection of high-end small kitchen appliances. And I borrow from her. My point is that this cake was a colossal hit at my Rosh Hashanah dinner table, and is one recipe I’ll be making on the regular. You’re welcome.

HONEY APPLE BUNDT CAKE

3 large eggs
3/4 cup honey
1/2 cup white sugar
1/4 cup light brown sugar
1 1/4 cups canola oil
1 1/2 tsp vanilla
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1 1/2 tsp cinnamon
3/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp allspice (optional)
dash ground cloves (optional)
4 apples (peeled, cored, shredded)
3 tbsp powdered sugar

Preheat oven to 325˚F. Peel, core and shred your apples.

In a large mixing bowl, beat the eggs until they’re frothy. Whisk in the honey, white sugar, brown sugar, oil and vanilla. In a separate medium-sized bowl, mix the flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, salt and spices (optional) together. Incorporate the flour mixture into the liquid, and stir to blend. Fold in the shredded apples (I used Ambrosia or Fuji but you can use any kind you like) and their juice.

Spray your nine-inch Bundt pan with cooking spray, making sure to evenly coat the entire inner surface. Pour the batter into the pan. Since Bundt pan sizes vary (I use a 10-to-15-cup pan), make sure the batter fills the pan three-quarters full or less – don’t fill beyond that or your cake might overflow during baking. Use a spatula to gently smooth the batter on the top so it’s flat and even all the way around the pan.

Bake the cake for 75 to 90 minutes. If you’re using a dark-coloured Bundt pan, it may bake faster, so start checking at 50 minutes. When the edges darken and pull away from the sides of the pan, and the cake is brown all the way across the top, insert a toothpick (or wooden shish kabob skewer) into the thickest part of the cake. If it comes out clean, it’s done. It’s a very moist cake, so it’s easy to undercook it. Bake it a little longer if you’re unsure, but not too long or it’ll dry out.

Let the cake cool for 10 minutes, then invert it onto a flat plate. Tap the Bundt pan gently to release the cake, then let the cake cool completely before you dust it with powdered sugar. Since the cake is moist, it tends to soak up the powdered sugar, so only add it right before serving. I put three tablespoons of powdered sugar into a small handheld mesh sieve and sprinkled it on top of the cake by tapping the sieve. If there’s any cake left over, keep it in the fridge, covered.

If you happen to be a fan of drizzled icing, this next part is for you. To make an icing, sift one cup of powdered sugar into a mixing bowl. Add a quarter teaspoon of vanilla extract and half a tablespoon of water or non-dairy creamer. Whisk the sugar and liquid to blend, adding the liquid very slowly, until it just comes together. Add additional liquid by half teaspoonfuls, mixing constantly, until the mixture has the texture of very thick honey. When you pull a spatula through the icing and it takes a few seconds for the gap to close again, the texture is right.

Pour the icing into a sealable plastic bag. Close the bag, leaving a small bit open to vent, and push the icing towards one lower corner of the bag. Cut the very tip of that corner off the bag. Squeeze gently to drizzle the icing over the cake. Let the icing dry completely before serving – this takes 30-60 minutes. Slice and enjoy!

Another new Rosh Hashanah recipe I tried convinced me that not all tzimmes are created equal. Ksenia Prints’ Russian Jewish Carrot Tzimmes (immigrantstable.com/my-grandmas-russian-jewish-carrot-tzimmes) is definitely a cut above and checks all the boxes for rich depth of flavour. Some of my Rosh Hashanah guests actually asked if they could take some home!

RUSSIAN JEWISH CARROT TZIMMES

2 lbs carrots peeled & cut into 2-inch pieces
7 oz pitted prunes
7 oz dried apricots
zest of 2 oranges, in strips
juice of 2 oranges
4 tbsp honey
1/4 cup brown sugar
3 tbsp butter
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground ginger
1/4 tsp ground cardamom (optional)
salt to taste

Preheat oven to 350°F.

Blanch carrots in boiling salted water for 5 minutes, then drain.

In a large ovenproof dish, combine carrots, prunes, apricots and orange zest.

Combine orange juice, honey, brown sugar, melted butter, cinnamon, ginger and cardamom (optional), and pour this over the carrot mixture. Toss to coat.

Cover the dish with foil and bake for 30 minutes. Remove foil, stir, and continue baking uncovered for 30 to 40 minutes, until carrots are tender and the sauce has thickened and reduced to a glaze. Season with salt to taste and let rest for 10 minutes before serving.

The orange zest strips become almost candied and the glaze is sweet and slightly spicy. This dish freezes perfectly and offers a deep, rich flavour that only gets better with time. Seriously. You can make it in advance, like I did, then defrost and reheat it in the microwave. No one was the wiser. And everyone was happy.

The $64,000 question is this: Why do we save these delicious recipes only for holidays? Get thee to the oven now!

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.

Deciphering “oy”

Don’t be alarmed, but …

From the “Tribe of Reuben”: a culinary heart-attack-on-a-plate, never mind the trayf factor. (photo by Alan C. / flickr.com)

On the last morning of our five-day trip to Victoria this summer, my husband Harvey woke me at 6:30 with the ominous words: “I don’t want to alarm you, but I’m having chest pain and I’m really clammy.”

Now, this is a man who has gone a few rounds with cardiac opponents like stents, a pacemaker/defibrillator, cardiac ablation and atrial fibrillation. He is no stranger to people poking around in his arteries and veins. And I am no stranger to health anxiety.

So, I leapt into action and tried to get an outside line through our hotel phone. Impossible. Harvey, cool as a cucumber (well actually, sweaty as a hairy guy in a shvitz), says, “Maybe just use your cellphone and call 911.” Within five minutes an ambulance and a fire truck arrived at our hotel room, and three paramedics started assessing him. Obviously, we all suspected a heart attack, G-d forbid, but they had to check everything anyway. Two puffs of nitroglycerine later and the pain subsided.

Off we went to Royal Jubilee Hospital. Which sounds like a place of celebration and festivities – jubilee! It was not. Ten hours and countless doctors, residents, nurses and nurse practitioners later, they announced that it was not a heart attack, but “some sort of heart-related issue.” They suggested we stay in Victoria an extra day, gently informing us that the chances of having another such “event” was most likely within the next 48 hours.

Long story short, we stayed in Victoria for two more nights, then came home. That was a Wednesday. On Friday, at around 10:30 p.m., Harvey woke me up again to tell me: “I don’t want to alarm you, but I’m having chest pain again and my jaw feels tight.”

Like an anxiety-fueled robot, I dialed 911 and off we went to Vancouver General Hospital to spend a thoroughly horrendous two nights in the emergency department. Thanks to a nurse who advocated for us and a cardiologist who finally saw us after 19 hours of waiting, Harvey was promised an angiogram “within the next three days.” Seriously? I caught sight of incredulity in the rearview mirror.

I’m convinced that nonstop praying is what got Harvey an angiogram on the Sunday morning. And what did it show? He had a blockage in the smaller of the two “widow-makers” – a term cardiologists use to refer to the heart’s biggest artery, and the one that commonly causes fatal heart attacks. This is a term that no wife wants to hear. Ever. But, thank G-d, they caught it in time and put a cardiac stent in. To date, it’s still a mystery as to why a fairly recent cardiogram didn’t catch this blockage. Needless to say, this wife will be armed with an extensive list of questions for Harvey’s cardiologist. For the record, I’m not comforted when doctors opine that “sometimes we just don’t know.”

When I asked Harvey how I could possibly tie in his cardiac episodes with my Balabusta column, without missing a beat, he said: “Tribe of Reuben.” I immediately understood the reference to the two Reuben sandwiches he’d consumed that week. I have become very adept at extrapolating the gems that spew forth from my husband’s witty piehole. For those of you not familiar with this culinary heart-attack-on-a-plate, a Reuben consists of corned beef, Swiss cheese and sauerkraut slathered with Russian or Thousand Island dressing, grilled between slices of rye bread. My arteries clog just contemplating this. Never mind the trayf (non-kosher) factor.

Suffice it to say that, while I cannot be my husband’s keeper, I can be the gatekeeper for what we eat at home. And there sure as heck aren’t going to be any Reuben sandwiches darkening our doorway. They might try knocking, but nobody’s going to answer.

In the service of taking on a heart-healthy diet, Harvey will be eating nothing but salads, fruit and vegetables from now on – as if. Me, I’m a dyed-in-the-wool carnivore, so meat is a staple and I refuse to banish it. Given the state of things, I anticipate cooking separate meals for Harvey and me. Imagine my delight. Although I suppose certain proteins in regulated portions would be OK for him, I will have to explain to Harvey that corned beef and salami are not proteins, but rather heart attacks waiting to happen.

Alternative proteins like tofu and quinoa are out of the question for hubby, as you already know. So, my challenge will be to get creative and cleverly hide those loathed substances in appealing-looking dishes. A little quinoa thrown into a vegetable stew. Beyond Beef jumping into the understudy role for lasagna. Tofu masquerading as schnitzel. Not likely. Not ever. Harvey has the nose of a bloodhound and will sniff out these offending pseudo-proteins before you can say traitor.

What’s a wife to do? I could bribe his cardiologist to read Harvey the riot act. Or I could just throw my hands up in frustration and accept the fact that Harvey is a grown man with the capacity to make his own choices, good, bad and otherwise. I just hate giving in to sensible options, so I’m opting for Door #1. Wish me luck.

In the meantime, I’ll explore the big wide world of vegetables and figure out how I can disguise spaghetti squash and golden beets to make them look like Big Macs and Reuben sandwiches. Tonight, Harvey will be eating a salad composed of avocados, blueberries, mangoes, Persian cucumbers and fresh mint, with a healthy homemade dressing. And he’ll love it. The dressing is simple: lime juice. If I’m feeling magnanimous, I might even slip in a small portion of real protein on the side. Depends on whether or not he snuck in a Sabich for lunch while I was out. I’ll be sniffing his breath for signs of falafel and onion before dinner.

Stay tuned for my end-of-summer Greek orzo salad that will satisfy your craving for a salty, sweet side salad that doubles as a main dish. It’ll usher your tastebuds from summer into fall in the blink of an eye. Next thing you know, you’ll be nesting and making sheet pan chicken. Honour the seasons, season your food and eat healthy. Btay’avon.

About the Rosh Hashana 5786 cover art

This year’s Rosh Hashanah cover art was created by Elaine Arenson in 2024 for Chai Cancer Care, the British Jewish community’s national cancer support organization. “This is my tree of Chai, my tree of light,” she wrote about the image. “Through the art group, we find creativity, renewal, community and exceptional care. We discover we are so much more than a cancer diagnosis.”

There is a story behind the centre’s annual card, which is selected from works created by Chai clients who attend art workshops. In 2013, a Chai client received a Rosh Hashanah card and told the centre: “It was so bright and cheerful. It lifted my spirits and gave me courage and strength when I needed it most.”

So, the brief to workshop participants is simple: create an image that reflects the warmth, light, joy and hope at this special time of year, and the tangible impact Chai support has on its clients. A quote from the artist always accompanies the image, explaining the sentiment and inspiration behind the design.

The centre’s Rosh Hashanah cards not only deliver good wishes but are also a source of income for Chai. They are available to buy blank or with a printed message and as ecards. To purchase some, email [email protected]. For more information about Chai Cancer Care, visit chaicancercare.org.

Significance of the holiday table

While the symbolism of dipping apples in honey for a sweet new year is well-known, many other foods have added meaning at this time of year, too. (photo from pxhere.com)

To prepare for the most holy days of the Jewish calendar, many people reflect on the past year and some contact those in their lives they may have wronged, asking for forgiveness. Another set of people may be planning what to wear to shul for the two regular annual appearances they make, and some are just doing their best to get back in to the swing of the school year. One of the only things we all do, every single one of us no matter how observant we are of Jewish laws and customs, is eat.

This year, Congregation Beth Israel offered a cooking series for anyone interested in getting in touch with the food side of the holidays. I had the privilege of conducting this three-part series for members of the shul, touching on three distinct ways of looking at holiday cooking.

Jewish cuisine is incredibly diverse, so it was difficult to narrow the themes and recipe choices. I didn’t want to omit the important contributions that Ethiopian Jews or Jews from India have made to the range of recipes we call Jewish food, but, with only three classes, choices had to be made. Luckily, the classes were so popular, the cultures that were underrepresented this time will be explored in classes to come. Hopefully, there will be classes at many different synagogues around the Lower Mainland in the coming year.

The first class at BI focused on Sephardi-Mizrachi food. Sephardi cooking is specifically the cuisine of Jews who trace their heritage to Spain, those Jews who ended up in North Africa, the western parts of the Middle East, as well as some places in Europe, such as Greece. Mizrachi Jews are from farther east, those who may trace their lineage back to the expulsion of Jews from Israel after the destruction of the First Temple, the Babylonian exile. This ancient community spread to other parts of Asia and has a delicious set of foods as well.

A uniting factor for all the cuisines, if one keeps kosher, is the adherence to the laws of kashrut. Availability of ingredients is always a factor when preparing food and, as evidenced by the similarity of Jewish foods to the cuisine of our non-Jewish neighbours, Jewish food is, in essence, food of the world interpreted through a kosher or cultural lens. For example, Italian Jews have their own unique traditions, tracing back to their expulsion from Israel after the destruction of the Second Temple. One creative interpretation of a locally popular Italian food that would have been off limits to observant Jews is prosciutto. Innovative medieval Jews in northern Italy created goose prosciutto, making a trayf delicacy kosher.

My second class in the series centred on Ashkenazi cooking for the High Holidays. Originating in Eastern and Central Europe, these foods are heavily influenced by Slavic and Germanic cuisines. The availability of spices was more limited in Europe back in the day, and the traditional recipes are relatively bland and, in many cases, simple compared to those of our coreligionists to the east.

Unfortunately, the dearth of ingredients had no bearing on the eagerness of our Ashkenazi sages and scholars for limiting the foods to be eaten on various holidays. Many people know of the stringent restrictions on kitniyot for Passover, for example: the beans, lentils, corn and rice that Ashkenazi Jews are traditionally forbidden to eat during Pesach while other Jews happily eat pilafs and lentil soup. Rosh Hashanah is no different.

While not forbidden, there is a strong recommendation to avoid eating nuts. Why? Two reasons. Nuts were understood by medieval scholars to create extra phlegm and would, therefore, cause nut-eaters to disturb the fervent prayer of fellow congregants. Second, and more universally applicable, the sages attributed mystical meaning to the words for many foods, counting the numerical value of their letters (known as gematria) and equating it with other words of significance. The Hebrew word for nut, egoz, has a value of 17, which is the same as the word for sin, or chet, in Hebrew. Therefore, it was concluded that Jews should avoid eating “sins” so close to the time of judgment.

Gematria is also infused into many of the foods we consider symbolic for our spiritual well-being. Gourds and pumpkins are thought to bring us victory over our enemies, beans multiply our merits, and leeks and cabbage are lucky. Round foods like peas, or foods made round, like the challahs this time of year, symbolize the continuing cycle of life. There are many more examples. So, eat up! We want to get as many of these good things in before the final judgment comes down at the end of Yom Kippur!

Pomegranate is also traditionally eaten for Rosh Hashanah. There are two reasons for this. It is one of the seven species listed in the Torah that will be found in the Land of Israel but, also, mystically, it has been said that there are 613 seeds in a pomegranate: the same number of mitzvot in the Torah. Therefore, eating this fruit at this time of year symbolically gives us a leg up on fulfilling as many of the commandments from the Torah in the coming year as possible.

The final class in my series focused on embracing the local food scene and bringing locally available seasonal produce to the High Holiday table because the basis of this series was showcasing new recipes imbued with the kind of Jewish reasoning that has kept the Jewish people both rooted in tradition and relevant to our current time and place. Food is one of the things that unites and gives us a sense of belonging – to our culture, our family and potentially, our spirituality.

Michelle Dodek attended culinary school before the pandemic. She is a long-time contributor to the Jewish Independent, an educator and a balabusta, to boot. Watch for her Jewish food classes.

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photo - carrots — Carrots have lots of symbolism related to this time of year, including the resemblance of a round slice to a coin (prosperity) and, for Ashkenazi Jews, the similarity of the word for carrot (mern) to the word for increase/multiply (mehr), as in our good deeds should be multiplied in the coming year. *(photo from pexels.com)*

MOROCCAN CARROT SALAD
(Adapted from Adeena Sussman’s Shabbat: Recipes and Rituals from My Table to Yours, this recipe takes about 50 minutes to prepare and yields 4 cups.)

1 1/2 lbs carrots, peeled, if necessary
2 tsp honey or silan
1 large lemon or lime
1 clove garlic, grated (optional)
1 tsp cumin (or up to 1 1/2 tsp)
1-2 tsp harissa (to taste)
1/2 cup chopped fresh mint
1/4 cup olive oil
1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro (optional)*
1 tsp kosher salt
4 Medjool dates pitted, sliced

Cook carrots in salted water until just fork-tender, about 10 minutes. Watch that you don’t overcook them, nobody wants mushy carrot salad. Drain and cool. Meanwhile, mince the herbs and zest then juice the lemon into a medium-sized bowl. Whisk in oil, salt, honey, cumin and garlic. Cut the carrots into coins and coat with dressing. Stir in remaining ingredients.

Serve immediately or hold in the fridge for up to five days. The flavours benefit from a day or two to mellow in the fridge, which is excellent when you need to prepare ahead for a large group.

*Some people intensely dislike cilantro. Make a few portions without it if you’re having a lot of people over for dinner and you don’t know their preferences, or omit it if you’re one of those people.

An exploration of the shofar

Most shofars are made from a ram’s horn, reminding us of Akeidat Yitzchak (the Binding of Isaac), which supposedly took place on Rosh Hashanah, since a ram was sacrificed in Yitzchak’s place. (photo by Len Radin / flickr)

Around the High Holidays, some young children receive colourful plastic shofars to blow. Are these shofars kosher? Could they be legitimately used during holiday prayers?

While their colour might hold the attention of the children and worshippers, the answer to the above two questions is no. Shofars that can be used ritually come from animals, including rams, antelopes and goats. The long spiral shofar used by Yemenite Jews, for example, comes from the greater kudu, a striped antelope common to some parts of Africa. But most shofars are made from a ram’s horn. In fact, the shofar is sometimes referred to as a “ram’s horn.” This type of horn reminds us of Akeidat Yitzchak (the Binding of Isaac), which supposedly took place on Rosh Hashanah, since a ram was sacrificed in Yitzchak’s place.

A ram’s horn has a wide base surrounding a core bone, which connects to the animal’s head. Once the animal is dead, the horn is separated from the bone, resulting in a horn that is hollow in its wide part, but sealed at its narrow edge. Heat is applied to enable straightening part of the horn (though some rabbis think this should not be done), then it is polished on the outside and an air-passage hole is drilled in the narrow part, allowing it to produce a sound similar to a trumpet, a trombone or a didgeridoo.

According to Mahzor Lev Shalem, the shofar had a variety of uses in the Bible. It was used as a call to war (remember how it was used to miraculously tumble the walls of Jericho in Joshua, Chapter 6), as a call to assemble the community and, most significantly, to note G-d’s descent on Sinai. Later, it became associated with G-d’s call for Jews to repent.

From one specific shofar, a player can typically produce one sound, which depends on the horn’s length – the longer it is, the lower the sound produced by it, and players must use their lips to vibrate the air in the shofar exactly in the resonance frequency of the specific shofar. But Israeli trumpet player Amit Sofer takes the shofar beyond the tekiah, shevarim and teruah routines of the Jewish prayer book, and turns it into a musical instrument. Listen to Sofer’s trio presentation of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” (youtube.com/watch?v=lwaD92UcZME).

The shofar is well traveled. Its Greek cousin, the troumbeta or voukino, for instance, was once used all over Greece. Greek musicologist Fivos Anoyanakis, author of Greek Popular Musical Instruments, notes that this animal horn was used to announce field-wardens and postmen. It closely resembles the shofar.

According to Yad Vashem, during the Shoah, Rabbi Yitzhak Finkler, the Radoszyce rabbi, was incarcerated at Skarzysko-Kamienna, a forced labour camp. Getting hold of a ram’s horn required him to bribe a Polish guard – but the guard brought him an ox horn. It took a second bribe to get the right kind of horn. Then, the rabbi asked camp inmate Moshe Winterter (later Hebraized to Ben Dov), who worked in the camp’s metal shop, to make a shofar.

At first, Winterter refused. Preparing an item that was not an armament, or even carrying something considered contraband from the workshop to the barracks, carried with it a penalty of death. But he relented. So, in 1943, camp inmates heard the shofar blowing. The shofar traveled around wartorn Europe and the United States until Winterter made aliyah. In Israel, he donated the shofar to Yad Vashem.

A year after the Six Day War ended, archeologist Benjamin Mazer discovered the Trumpeting Place inscription (which was written in Hebrew, of course). He discovered the 1st century CE stone in his early excavations of the southern wall of the Temple Mount. It shows just two complete words carved above a wide depression cut into its inner face. The first is translated as “to the place” and the second word “of trumpeting” or “of blasting” or “of blowing.” Today, the stone is on display at the Israel Museum in Jerusalem.

photo - The Trumpeting Place inscription — The Trumpeting Place inscription is a stone from the 1st century CE discovered in 1968 by Benjamin Mazar in his excavations of the southern wall of the Temple Mount. The first word translates as “to the place” and the second as “of trumpeting” or “of blasting” or “of blowing.” *(Andrey Zeigarnik / wikipedia)*

What exactly is the mitzvah of the shofar – the hearing of it being blown or the blowing of it? The written source (Numbers 29:1) of the mitzvah is relatively vague, so the issue was debated by scholars. The verse simply says, “a day of sounding shall be for you.” But, in his Shulchan Aruch, Rabbi Yosef Karo (1488-1575) rules that we make the blessing “to listen to the sound of the shofar” and not “on the blowing of the shofar,” so subsequent halachic (relating to Jewish law) authorities have followed this ruling.

What does this mean for a person who has trouble hearing? In this age of hearing aids and cochlear implants, does one fulfil the mitzvah if one uses a hearing device?

As with many other issues dealing with the interpretation of halachah in modern times, there is a difference of opinion regarding electronic hearing aids. Anyone who is not completely deaf is obligated to hear the shofar, according to all opinions. Rabbi Yehuda Finchas, a worldwide expert, lecturer and author of Medical Halacha, opines that anyone who wears electronic hearing aids should ideally stand near the person blowing shofar and remove the aids when the shofar is sounded. However, according to Hacham Ovadia, if one cannot hear the shofar without such a device, one should wear them and fulfil the mitzvah.

A common custom is to start blowing shofar daily at the time of the morning service in the Hebrew month of Elul, the month preceding Rosh Hashanah. On Rosh Hashanah, the shofar is blown at the time of the Torah reading service. Technically, this happens after the Torah and Haftorah have been read, but before the Torah is returned to the ark. On Yom Kippur, the shofar is blown after the final prayer service of Yom Kippur, Neilah.

Whether a person will hear the shofar being blown on Shabbat depends on the individual’s synagogue affiliation. In the Orthodox and Conservative movements, the shofar is not blown on Shabbat. It is blown, however, in Reform congregations.

Originally, the sages worried that, if shofar blowing was permitted on Shabbat, people might be tempted to violate Shabbat law by carrying a shofar. Rather than risk such a situation, they prohibited any shofar blowing on Shabbat. But, even in Jerusalem, where the shofar would have been blown when the Temple stood, and which has an eruv (a symbolic enclosure within whose borders carrying is permitted) around it, the shofar is not blown in Orthodox and Conservative synagogues.

During the Rosh Hashanah musaf (additional) service, there are three additional sections read: Malchiyot (Kingship), Zichronot (Remembrance) and Shofarot. The Shofarot section provides readers with verses from Exodus and Numbers, Psalms and the Prophets, in which the shofar is mentioned.

Have a meaningful holiday and a happy new year.

Deborah Rubin Fields is an Israel-based features writer. She is also the author of Take a Peek Inside: A Child’s Guide to Radiology Exams, published in English, Hebrew and Arabic.

A new year, a new you?

If we want to improve our character traits, we need look no further than the latest issue we have in relationships. Do we get angry easily? Or impatient? (photo of universe.roboflow.com)

The Jewish New Year, 5786, is upon us. How can we be better? Life is always giving us opportunities to learn and to grow, and I believe one of the secrets to life-long learning about how to improve ourselves is to “be aware.”

Self-awareness or being mindful is a habit that is nurtured and practised every day. However, it isn’t about sitting quietly when we meditate, although certainly that is one of the ways we train our mind to observe and to be aware. Self-awareness is a process where we listen to our inner voice as well as listening to messages (whether we like them or not) from friends and family.

Paying attention to our reactions when we see someone who is less fortunate is a good place to start to look at our behaviours and character traits. Are you called to be generous or judgmental? Do you react with humility or arrogance when someone cuts in front of you when you are in line at the grocery store? Are you proud of how you respond, or do you think you could do better? Feelings of being unsettled when we leave a conversation may be a hint there is work to do on our inner self.

Awareness starts by watching our day-to-day actions and decisions, especially those where we find ourselves out of sync with friends, family and/or our “Higher Self.” Even those of us who may not have a direct or active connection to a Higher Self are connected to something – we all have a soul. According to the Torah (Genesis 1:27), we are made in the “image of G-d,” and thus we have the capacity to create relationships, show kindness and make the world a better place through being charitable.

If we want to improve our character traits, where do we look? Alan Morinis, author of Everyday Holiness: The Jewish Spiritual Path of Mussar and the forthcoming book The Shabbat Effect, says we need look no further than the latest issue we have in relationships. Do we get angry easily? Or impatient? How is your generosity muscle working? These are character traits that, when out of balance, may be on the spiritual curriculum we have to work on in our lives.

Mussar teaches us to balance our character traits, not eliminate them. If patience (savlanut) is on your spiritual curriculum, the challenge is to watch for opportunities where you can practise “bearing the burden.” Once you identify a trait you want to work on, lo and behold, there are opportunities everywhere to do so.

A new year is an opportunity to take stock of how we are in this world, and how we can be better. It is also a time to be grateful for all our blessings. Sometimes our blessings may not be wrapped in a silver bow, the silver lining yet to be found. There is the concept of win/win – similarly, if one person loses, so too does the other person.

Use this time of year to make a list of where you might improve your everyday interactions, remind yourself of what you are grateful for. Take a moment to journal how you want to improve. Being a kind and generous friend only makes the world a better place. G-d knows we could all use more kindness.

Shelley Karrel is a registered clinical counselor in British Columbia and can be reached at [email protected].