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April 15, 2011
Is it the tastiest Pesach dish?
Don’t be a slave to traditional recipes when making matzah brei.
OZZIE NOG
Food blogger Debby Koenig (Words to Eat By) confesses that though she hates Passover, with its “stick to the roof of your mouth matzah, crumbs all over your shirtfront matzah, halt all intestinal activity matzah,” she considers the “only saving grace of this cardboardy so-called food is that it’s the main ingredient in matzah brei,” fried matzah. I sympathize with Koenig’s position, though a cardboardy piece of matzah slathered with unsalted butter is one of my all-time, anytime favorite snacks.
Just as bakers at Purim spar over hamantashen dough (cookie versus yeast) and filling (sweet versus savory), so, too, do cooks battle at Passover over various matzah brei methods. Soak the matzah until it’s mush? Run the matzah under the faucet for a mere mili-minute to keep the crunch? Sprinkle with cinnamon? A pinch of paprika? A conundrum, for sure.
Rumor has it that there are as many recipes for matzah brei as there are Jewish grandmothers, and regular folk, as well as the famous among us, continue to argue the soggy/crisp/sweet/savory issue. For some, matzah brei is a substitute for French toast, awash in maple syrup. “Ixnay,” according to Ruth Reich, former editor-in-chief of Gourmet magazine and former restaurant critic for both the New York Times and the L.A. Times – she considers sweet matzah brei to be an abomination. (Reich’s word. Honest.)
Others prefer matzah brei dished up like plain old scrambled eggs. Oddly enough, this humble presentation is preferred by over-the-top architect Frank Gehry (born Frank Owen Goldberg), who told Mark Bittman (aka “the Minimalist” of the New York Times) that he (Gehry) could make only one dish – matzah brei – which he learned from watching his mother.
“I take the matzahs out, run them under the tap and then crumple them,” Gehry said. “Do you make the matzah brei look beautiful?” Bittman asked. “Do you arrange it in an architectural fashion?” Gehry answered, “No.” (Listen. The guy probably depleted his creative juices designing the undulating Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao and the phantasmagoric Dancing House in Prague.)
We’re told that when the Israelites dashed from Egypt with only flatbread in their backpacks, God answered their culinary cravings with endless mounds of manna. According to Louis Ginzburg’s Legends of the Jews, this miraculous manna contained the flavor of every conceivable dish. If an Israelite wanted a certain food – roast lamb, let’s say – all he had to do was think of it, and voila!, the manna tasted like roast lamb.
Manna, it is also said, tasted to everyone who ate it according to his or her age. To little children, it tasted like milk; to strong youths, like bread; to old men, like honey; and to the sick, manna tasted like barley cakes steeped in oil and sweet mead. Nowhere, even in legend, do we read that manna tasted like matzah brei. (I’ll keep looking.) But those of us who consider matzah brei to be a latter-day manna from heaven can conjure it up in traditional – plus astonishing alternative – flavors. In fact, pretty soon our seders might need to add a fifth question: Why is this matzah brei different from all other matzah brei?
Here’s one possible answer.
MEXICAN MATZAH BREI
(from Yum Recipes, by way of the Boston Globe)
Guacamole filling:
1/2 ripe avocado, peeled, pitted and coarsely chopped
1 scallion, finely chopped
2 tbsp. sour cream
1 tsp. freshly squeezed lemon juice
Omelette:
1 matzah, broken into 2-inch pieces
3 eggs, lightly beaten
Kosher salt and pepper to taste
1 tbsp. butter for pan
1/4 cup shredded Monterey Jack or cheddar cheese
1 small jalapeno pepper, cored and finely chopped
Salsa and various toppings (optional)
To make the guacamole, stir together the avocado, scallion, sour cream and lemon juice in a small bowl and set aside.
For the omelette, place the matzah in a colander in the sink and pour boiling water over it. Let stand for two minutes, then squeeze out the liquid and place the matzah in a bowl. Add the eggs, salt and jalapeno and mix well.
In a 10-inch, nonstick frying pan, melt the butter. Pour the matzah mixture into the hot pan and cook over medium heat, pulling the eggs toward the centre of the pan with a spatula and tilting the pan to allow uncooked portions to flow into the empty spaces until set.
Sprinkle the omelette with cheese. Spread the guacamole filling over half the omelette. Cover the pan and cook over a low heat for five minutes.
Fold the omelette in half and slide it onto a serving plate. Divide it in two and serve it at once. If desired, garnish it with salsa and/or grated cheese, black olives, plus more sour cream.
Now, let all who are hungry come and eat. Ole! (Or maybe, Oy, vey....)
Ozzie Nog is a freelance writer living in Omaha, Neb.
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