Life – Page 3

The Maccabees, old and new

A postcard featuring the work “In Prayer – In War” by Polish-American artist and cartoonist Mitchell Loeb (1889-1968). (internet photo)

Of all the Jewish holidays, Hanukkah is the one most intimately connected to Israel and the Zionist dream. It mirrors the struggle to reestablish the Jewish state, and is perhaps more political in nature than religious.

Hanukkah represents Jewish military power and Jewish independence, which, in the case of the Hasmoneans, lasted 80 to 100 years. The Hasmoneans and their fellow second-century BCE Judeans were able to establish a state despite having had to face a strong and well-equipped empire. The odds were heavily stacked against them, yet they prevailed. This is why some people say that the Hanukkah story parallels the struggles and achievements of Israel’s first Jewish residents and founding pioneers, surrounded as they were by hostile neighbours.

It is hard to claim that the miracle in which a tiny bit of oil lasted, not for one day, but for eight days, is a critical part of an Israeli Hanukkah. However, oil is a crucial part of the holiday. Sufganiyot (filled donuts), fried in oil, go on sale at least a month before the first candle is lit. (I saw them on sale in a Tel Aviv bakery on Nov. 10!) Nowadays, Jerusalem coffee houses and bakeries even have their sufganiyot rated by the media.

Potato pancakes (levivot, in Hebrew; latkes, in Yiddish) take second place to sufganiyot. Perhaps because levivot are generally products of one’s private kitchen, rather than a bakery, or perhaps because, as an historically Ashkenazi Eastern European food, it appeals to only half the Jewish population in Israel. The other half is Sephardi, meaning people whose long-ago origins were in Iberia, while, in the United States, no more than 10% of the Jewish population is either Sephardi or Mizrachi (Jews who came from Muslim-ruled lands). I couldn’t find any recent figures for Canada’s Jewish population by these measures.

As for levivot, they are no longer made just with potatoes. There might be additions or substitutions like sweet potatoes or zucchini, featuring spices such as cumin and paprika.

As many know, Israel’s climate is well suited to growing olives, and olive trees have grown here for centuries. The trees like the semi-arid climate, with our long, hot, sunny summers and mild, cool winters, as well as Israel’s rocky terrain. Generally, Israeli-grown olives are ready for picking starting just before Hanukkah. There are olive-picking festivals and such events highlight another difference between diasporic and Israeli observances of Hanukkah.

Those living in pre-state Palestine knew what Hitler was doing in Europe. According to historian Benny Morris, the Jewish population in Palestine was reading several newspapers at the time, like Ha’aretz, Davar and Do’ar ha-Yom.

The pre-1948 cultural products reflect not only what Palestinian Zionists knew about the fate of European Jewry, but also an ideological effort at creating a new national character. This “new” Jew would not be a victim. He would be a kind of new Maccabee. According to historian Reuven Firestone, the new Zionist Jew would be strong, confident and effective, and the very act of developing the land of Israel would, in turn, develop the Jewish psyche and person.

So, Hanukkah songs written in either the pre-state or early statehood days focus on the success of Zionist fighters more than they do the accomplishments of the Maccabees. In 1936, Menashe Ravina composed the song “Mi Yimalel.” Its lyrics are: “Who can retell the mighty deeds of Israel, who can count them? / In every generation a hero will arise, a redeemer for the people. / Listen! / In those days in this time / The Maccabee saves and redeems / And in our day the whole people of Israel / Will join together and arise and be redeemed.”

In the 1940s, Sara Levi Tanay wrote the words and Emanuel Amiran wrote the music for “Ba’anu Choshech Legaresh.” The idea is that, by banding together, the state can survive: “In our hands are light and fire. / Each person is a small light, / And all of us a great light. / Go away darkness, away, obscurity! / Make way for the light.”

Starting in the 1940s, the Young Maccabees organization began a torch race on Hanukkah. This race was unique to Israel’s celebration of the holiday. It began in the Modi’in area, where it is believed the Maccabees are buried, and was held in all kinds of weather. In December 1954, for example, when the runners reached Jerusalem, it was pouring rain. Israeli youth organizations like the Scouts hold marches and hikes on Hanukkah.

Ironically, the original torch races, called lampadedromia or lampas, took place in ancient Greece, as part of religious festivals honouring the gods of fire. I say ironically, as the Maccabees fought for their independence from the Syrian Greeks of the Seleucid Empire, which was a Greek successor state to Alexander the Great’s empire. The Seleucid empire, under Antiochus, ruled over Judea. It desecrated the Temple in Jerusalem and sought to forcefully impose Hellenistic culture and religion on the Jewish population.

Today, in both Israel and in the diaspora, chocolate coins, usually wrapped in gold or silver foil – the 1920s brainstorm product of Loft Chocolate Company – are given to children during Hanukkah. Probably not too many people are aware of this, but, according to Rabbi Deborah Prinz, this edible gelt (money, in Yiddish) recalls the booty, including coins, that the Maccabees distributed to Jewish widows, soldiers and orphans, possibly at the first celebration of the rededication of the Jerusalem Temple. Also, in ancient Israel, striking, minting and distributing coins expressed Hanukkah’s message of political autonomy. The Maccabees’ descendants, the Hasmoneans, ruled Judea, as mentioned above, and issued their own coins.

Finally, a column in the Great Mosque of Gaza once bore inscriptions in Hebrew and depicted a seven-branched menorah (like the one used in the Temple), a shofar and an etrog, indicating a Jewish community in the area during the Roman/Byzantine and talmudic eras. These inscriptions apparently disappeared after the First Intifada in 1987. The Hanukkah menorah, or hanukkiyah, by contrast, has nine branches, commemorating the eight days the oil burned in the rededicated Temple, plus a shamash (helper) candle to do the lighting of the symbolic candles.

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.

My Hanukkah miracle

Last year, a great miracle happened here: Beaver Point Hall on Salt Spring Island. (photo by R. Shefa)

Hanukkah is a celebratory festival with oodles of delicious food – mostly fried – songs, candles and gatherings.

It is also considered a miracle festival. Jews rededicated the Second Temple when a small amount of oil for the Temple menorah lasted for eight days. This is why we eat fried foods, such as potato latkes and melt-in-your-mouth donuts, which also increases our calorie consumption, so we sigh with relief on the last day of the holiday.

Personally, I consider any day that runs smoothly from beginning to end a miracle. Take this past Hanukkah, when I lost a hearing aid on Salt Spring Island.

I had been invited to sing at a Hanukkah party. Although it was a dark, stormy night, my husband and I were excited to meet the locals and unwind in the quaint and character-filled Beaver Point Hall. At 92 years old, the hall has been a regular staple in the community. It hosts a diverse range of activities, such as concerts, workshops, kids programs, dancing and weddings.

A large fire welcomed us and there were some 20 hanukkiyot waiting to be lit before the large potluck dinner began. However, despite numerous announcements to kindly wait until the candles were lit and blessings made, the crowd plunged into the myriad dishes: salads, kugels, mung bean hummus (hey, this is Salt Spring), perogies, lasagna, homemade breads. The volunteer latke makers rushed to serve the latkes.

The hall acoustics became poor, so I took out one hearing aid and placed it in my purse. I could now hear my voice clearly for singing.

As I headed to the smaller room to tune the guitar, the remaining left hearing aid, still in my ear, made its usual beeps to inform me that I had left an aid behind. I ignored it.

After a very pleasant evening, we made the 20-minute trek home to the other side of the island. My hearing aid did not.

After tearing through my handbag, guitar case and car, it was officially not with me. There were only two places it could be: at the hall, or in the garbage, which would have been carted to one of the volunteer’s homes.

We were leaving at noon the next day, so an urgent search was necessary. But the hall was closed and my friend was not answering her phone. After much thought, I Googled the hall’s website. It displayed the calendar with all the rentals, including a dance improv the next day.

Miracle #1: the dance improv’s contact information was on Facebook.

Miracle #2: the organizer responded to my request and messaged back that the hall would open at 9 a.m. for the cleaners.

Miracle #3: after several texts, the organizer decided it was safe to give me the lock code to enter. And so we did. At 11 p.m., my kind husband, Steve, drove me back to the hall, as it’s a bit tricky to drive in the dark on rough roads, with deer occasionally darting out and heavy rain falling.

Steve parked the car so the headlights shone on the lock code and I was inside. Finding the light switches took a good few minutes and I never did find the kitchen ones. I headed to the stage, where my purse had been. Nothing but a few decorations. And then, suddenly, my left hearing aid, still firmly in my ear, began to beep with excitement – its partner was in the hall!

Steve joined the search. My left hearing aid clutched to his ear, he looked in every possible nook. He got excited. When he walked into the middle of the room, he said the beeping was loudest there. If someone had walked into the hall at that point, they probably would have thought there were two aliens loose.

What motivated me to look under an electric outlet, I will never know, but that’s where I found my hearing aid – completely covered by some Hanukkah gelt wrappers, most likely swept under them by one of the volunteers.

It was truly the best Hanukkah miracle!

Jenny Wright is a writer, music therapist, children’s musician and recording artist.

After the rededication … a Hanukkah cartoon

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 jackistanton@chaicancercare.org. For more information about Chai Cancer Care, visit chaicancercare.org.