baking

Have a cookie, schnitzel too

If you want cinnamon twists and schnitzel for dinner – yes, in that order – go for it. Life’s short. (photo by Shelley Civkin)

Nothing screams Jewish baking quite like kichel (aka nothings), kuffles and rugelach. Unless it’s cinnamon twists. My friend Debbie graciously brought over a fabulous selection of her pastries one day and I immediately fell in love with her Bubby Florence’s Twists (aka cinnamon twists). Begging for the recipe, Debbie offered to show me firsthand how to make them. Naturally, I jumped at the chance.

We had a bake-a-palooza date, banished our hubbies (they went out for brunch), donned our Donna Reed aprons and got to work. We made two different kinds of cookies that day: cinnamon twists and shortbread. Both über-yummy. Full disclosure: no calories were spared in the making of these treats.

I’m still getting used to my new induction stove and convection oven, so there continues to be some trial-and-error involved. I know that my oven underheats by 10 to 15 degrees, so I cranked up the temp. The cookies turned out a bit darker than Debbie said they should be, but they were perfect for me. I’ll let you decide what to set your oven at, but the recipe calls for 350˚ F.

CINNAMON TWISTS

1 cup brown sugar
3/4 cup canola oil
3 eggs
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
3 cups flour
1/2 cup white sugar (approx.)
2 tbsp cinnamon

Mix the brown sugar, oil and eggs in a large bowl, and mix the baking powder, baking soda and flour in another bowl. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and then put the mixture into the fridge for about one hour. (This is just a rough guideline.) After it’s chilled, form the batter into little “logs,” about the size of your baby finger, but slightly longer.

On a flat plate, mix the white sugar with the cinnamon. Roll the “logs” in the cinnamon and sugar until they’re well coated, then twist them into little twisties.

Bake at 350˚ F on a parchment-lined cookie sheet till the cookies are golden brown, approximately 20 minutes. Remove them onto a wire rack to cool – pour yourself a glass of milk and stuff your face until you feel like you’re going to explode. Wait an hour, then repeat. The recipe makes approximately 58 cinnamon twists. They freeze beautifully and they’re super-delicious with all that cinnamon sugar adorning them. Dipping in milk, coffee or tea is also recommended.

DEBBIE’S SHORTBREAD COOKIES

1 cup butter or margarine (I used vegan)
1/2 cup icing sugar
1/2 tsp vanilla
2 tbsp cornstarch
2 cups flour

Cream together butter or margarine and icing sugar. Add vanilla, cornstarch and flour, mixing for three to five minutes. (You can refrigerate the dough at this point if you want to make the cookies the next day. Up to you, but not necessary.)

When ready, spoon out half tablespoons of the dough and roll them into small balls. Place on a parchment-lined cookie sheet and flatten with a fork.

Bake at 350˚ F until golden brown on top, 15 to 20 minutes. Cool on a wire rack.

Could it get any easier?

After our bake-a-palooza was over, we sat down with a big glass of milk for me and a strong cup of coffee for Debbie, and gorged ourselves silly. Soon after, our hubbies got home from their male-bonding experience over panini and lattes. Laying their eyes on the bounty before them, they forgot they were stuffed from lunch. Need I state the obvious? Within seconds, each of the guys had wolfed down at least four of each cookie. And, once again, said they were stuffed. That lasted for 15 minutes. Our 100 cookies soon became dozens fewer. My friend’s suggestion for how to ensure that our husbands don’t eat the rest of the cookies in the future is to put them in a white container in the freezer and label it “Calf’s liver.” Pretty clever, don’t you think?

My next act was to make a recipe I found on Instagram by Shanie Amir, called Crispy Oven-Baked Eggplant Schnitzel. Simple, scrumptious and sort of healthy. Not.

CRISPY OVEN-BAKED EGGPLANT SCHNITZEL

1 eggplant
2 eggs
1 tbsp mayonnaise
1 1/2 cups golden breadcrumbs (or Panko)
salt & pepper

In a bowl, whisk the eggs and mayonnaise together.

Slice the eggplant into half-inch rounds and peel it so stripes of the skin show. Season lightly with salt and pepper.

photo - Eggplant schnitzel — Eggplant schnitzel *(photo by Shelley Civkin)*

Dip each slice of eggplant into the egg mixture, then coat them well in the breadcrumbs. Put the pieces on a parchment-lined baking sheet, spraying both sides with avocado oil.

Bake for 25 to 30 minutes at 400˚ F, flipping halfway, until golden and crispy. Make a dip to go with it. I like Ranch dressing, but a tahini dip would be delish. You’re welcome.

On a completely different note … I turned 70 years old awhile ago, and I’ve finally reached the stage of life where I’m gaining some perspective. I grew up with a mother who always told me to “Save it for good,” which translated to “Save it for when you go out somewhere fancy” or “Save it for when you have a nice dinner party” or “Save it for when you lose some weight.”

“Save it” was an exhortation to be careful, be cautious, be thrifty and, most of all, be scared of living in the moment, be scared of having too much fun, of throwing caution to the wind. As a result, I have fancy clothes in my closet that I’ve never worn, because I’ve been “saving them for good.”

I finally have realized that “good” means now. I don’t have to wait to go somewhere fancy just so I can wear my new dress. If I want to, I can wear it out grocery shopping. Turning 70 means not waiting for a better day. Today is the best day – for anything and everything.

I think I’m going to wear my fancy white blazer tonight. Because I can. And, if I feel like eating cookies, and eggplant schnitzel with dip for dinner, I will. Turning 70 has its advantages. My advice to you is this: have fun now – this is not a dress rehearsal!

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.

Summer squares and cobbler

photo - Rosemary Molloy’s lemon squares are tart, melty, crumbly heaven in a pan. For more of Molloy’s recipes, visit anitalianinmykitchen.com — Rosemary Molloy’s lemon squares are tart, melty, crumbly heaven in a pan. For more of Molloy’s recipes, visit anitalianinmykitchen.com. *(photo from anitalianinmykitchen.com)*

Pucker up, you lemon lovers! On my search for a refreshing lemon-based dessert, I found a simple recipe (my favourite kind) that will have me making this on repeat.

As I might have mentioned before, I’m a wee bit addicted to Instagram, where I learn things I didn’t even know I wanted to learn. Like how to string pearls; how to make a coin levitate; the art of velveting meat; and even more random nonsense. But, every once in awhile, I strike gold and, this time, it came in the guise of lemon squares. I made a pan of them and almost singlehandedly finished them all. I’ll be seeing my dentist shortly. They’re tart, melty, crumbly heaven in a pan, created by Rosemary Molloy at anitalianinmykitchen.com/lemon-squares.

EASY LEMON SQUARES

shortbread base
1/2 cup salted butter (softened)
1/4 cup powdered sugar
1 cup flour
1 pinch salt

lemon filling
2 large eggs
1 cup granulated sugar
1/2 tsp baking powder
3 tbsp fresh lemon juice
1 tbsp lemon zest
1 pinch salt

Pre-heat the oven to 350˚ F. Lightly grease and flour an 8”x8” square cake pan or line it with parchment paper (which will make for easier removal).

In a medium bowl, beat the butter (full disclosure: I had no butter so I used the vegan Becel margarine) and powdered sugar on medium speed until combined, then add the flour and salt (increase from a pinch to 1/4 teaspoon if using unsalted butter). Beat until a soft dough forms. Pat it evenly onto the bottom of the baking pan. Bake for 18 to 22 minutes, depending on your oven. Remove from the oven, but leave the heat on. Let the crust totally cool before adding the filling.

The shortbread base should look mostly pale across the surface with light golden-brown edges. If the entire crust turns golden, you’ve baked it too long. It should be soft with a crumbly texture, but it’s got to be firm enough to hold its shape without turning mushy under the lemon filling. Don’t be fooled: the shortbread centre may look undercooked, but that’s how you want it.

Meanwhile, in a medium bowl, beat together the eggs, sugar, baking powder, lemon juice, zest and salt. The recipe says to add 2 to 4 tablespoons of flour it you’re worried about the filling sinking to the bottom. Being a natural-born worrier, I added 2 tablespoons of flour and it was perfect.

Pour the filling over the cooled baked crust and return it to the oven for 20 to 25 minutes or so, until the centre is set. The lemon squares are done when you gently shake the pan and the filling no longer jiggles, or only slightly jiggles. Cool the squares in the pan for about an hour. Then chill them in the fridge for one to two hours for easier cutting. Cut into squares, remove from pan, dust with powdered sugar and serve.

If you are lucky enough to have any left, store them in an airtight container in the fridge. According to “experts,” they will last four days. If you happen to live at our place, they will last about a day. I’ve heard rumours that any remaining lemon squares can be frozen. Just put the cooled, cut squares on a cookie sheet, freeze for an hour, then transfer to a freezer-safe container, putting parchment paper between the layers. This next part is hilarious: those same “experts” say that the squares will keep for up to four months in the freezer. I’d give it a week before one of us (by which I mean me) succumbs to our (my) insatiable sweet tooth and raids the freezer. You are most welcome.

For another dessert that is the epitome of summer, I have a peachy recipe – almost anyone can transform sweet, fresh summer peaches into a warm, sugary cobbler. Chef Tieghan Gerard (founder of the brand Half-Baked Harvest) has a recipe for old school peach cobbler that’s fast and easy, eschewing fancy ingredients and show-offy techniques. It calls for fresh peaches, but you can use canned peaches in a pinch. They won’t be exactly the same as using fresh, but it’s doable. The recipe says to smother the cobbler in ice cream and maple butter; if you go this route, I wouldn’t recommend inviting any diabetic friends over for dessert. This recipe serves eight normal eaters (or four me’s) and bakes in just under an hour. It’s comfort food at its best.

OLD SCHOOL EASY BROWN SUGAR PEACH COBBLER

1 stick (8 tbsp) salted butter, cut into small pieces
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup light or dark brown sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1 cup milk
1 tbsp vanilla
5-6 fresh peaches, cut into 8 wedges
2 tbsp maple syrup

maple butter
4 tbsp salted butter
1/4 cup maple syrup

Preheat the oven to 375˚ F. Put the butter into a 9”x13” baking dish and place the dish in the oven to melt.

Stir together flour, 3/4 cup brown sugar, baking powder, cinnamon and salt. Add the milk and vanilla. Mix until just combined.

In a bowl, toss the peaches with 1/4 cup brown sugar and 2 tablespoons maple syrup.

Layer half of the peaches over the melted butter. Then, pour on the batter, but don’t stir it. Layer the remaining peaches over the batter. Bake for 50 to 55 minutes, until the centre is just set and the edges start to get to brown.

For the “sauce,” mix 4 tablespoons butter and 1/4 cup maple syrup together in a pan. Boil for 2 minutes, then remove from the heat.

Serve the cobbler warm with ice cream and maple butter drizzled on top.

(On a completely different note, I recently bought myself a Danish dough whisk. Don’t worry, I hadn’t heard of them either, until I started using the stretch-and-fold method to make focaccia dough. It employs a no-knead technique that makes a sticky, craggy kind of dough, that’s more easily mixed with a Danish dough whisk than a food processor. Check it out, if you’re into focaccia – all the cool kids have one.)

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.

Ishai energizes, unifies

Anat Ishai, aka Challah Mom, energizes the crowd at Beth Israel Synagogue June 13, at an event spearheaded by National Council of Jewish Women of Canada, Vancouver chapter. (photo from NCJWC Vancouver)

Anat Ishai swept into the hall at Beth Israel Synagogue the night of May 13 in a twirl of silver, dancing exuberantly as Israeli music played loudly on speakers. The room, filled with 300 Jewish women and children of all ages, exploded with sound and energy as Ishai enticed onlookers onto the dance floor.

Ishai, known on social media as “Challah Mom,” was in town at the invitation of the National Council of Jewish Women of Canada’s Vancouver chapter. Attendees gathered around tables to bake challah using Ishai’s recipe, to reflect on the meaning of challah-making and to hear her story.

Ishai describes herself as a digital content creator and blogger who “shares her Jewish life through challah, dance, hair-wrapping tutorials, Israel and Jewish wisdom.” Born in Israel to Russian-Israeli parents, she grew up in a secular home and the family moved to Toronto when she was 5 years old.

Ishai – who is now married and has kids – started the Challah Mom social media account during the COVID lockdown. It was an attempt to find happiness during a sad time, she said. To date, Challah Mom has a global platform with 300,000 followers across Instagram, Facebook and TikTok.

Ishai and her family made aliyah in September 2023, but she flies all over the world for Challah Mom events in different Jewish communities. In May alone, she appeared in Toronto, Winnipeg, Washington, DC, and Vancouver.

“I allow my Challah Mom community to enter my world and to see Judaism and Israel through my eyes,” writes Ishai on her website. “I share my insights, my perspective and my thoughts about Judaism, growth, Israel and everything in between. In courageously showing up as a proud Jewish woman, I hope to inspire my community to unleash their Jewish soul within.”

Jordana Corenblum, president of NJCWC Vancouver, said the goal of the recent event was “to create a community-wide, grassroots gathering, free and accessible, where women and children from different backgrounds could come together in a warm, inclusive environment.”

The event was supported by many Jewish community partners, including Congregation Beth Israel, Congregation Schara Tzedeck, Chabad Lubavitch of BC, Chabad Richmond, Community Kollel, Congregation Beth Tikvah, Temple Sholom, Or Shalom, PJ Library and Bitachon, a Jewish Federation of BC security volunteering initiative.

Yamila Chikiar, a member of the local NJCWC board and a Jewish Federation staff member, said the Challah Mom event was incredibly moving. “It was filled with energy, music, and a real sense of togetherness,” she said. “There was such diversity in the room, women and children from different walks of life, ages and levels of connection to Jewish practice, all coming together with a shared openness.

“That translated quickly into a sense of belonging,” she added. “What might have started as a large gathering very quickly felt intimate, connected, and a moment of genuine community-building. Through baking, music and storytelling, Ishai creates an experience that feels joyful, nonjudgmental and unifying.”

While NCJWC Vancouver has hosted impactful programming in the past, this event stood out for its scale, accessibility and cross-community collaboration. “It reflects the kind of programming the organization hopes to continue building,” Corenblum said.

“This event was a reminder of what is possible when community is built intentionally, when it is open, collaborative and grounded in shared values. It brought together people from different backgrounds in a way that felt both simple and meaningful,” she continued. “At its heart, it wasn’t just about baking challah. It was about connection, inclusion and creating space for people to come together.”

Lauren Kramer, an award-winning writer and editor, lives in Richmond.

Challah Mom comes to Vancouver

Anat Ishai, aka Challah Mom, leads a women’s bake session on May 13. She teaches challah baking as a form of therapeutic self-care, mindfulness & spiritual grounding. After years marked by grief, conflict & collective trauma, this gathering is an intentional, welcoming & apolitical space for joy, connection & togetherness. (photo from thechallahmom.com)

Click here for tickets (by donation) to the Vancouver in-person event presented by NCJW Vancouver and sponsored by PJ Library.

– NCJW Vancouver

Recipes not always required

Were you part of the pandemic sourdough bread baking craze? I’ve been baking bread for around 40 years, but I’m not a sourdough baker. Maintaining the starter was something I couldn’t manage. Although I’ve made many kinds of bread, including weekly challah (twin teens eat a lot!), I found using store-bought yeast was fine. Besides, my biology professor husband disliked the colourful, dangerous things he saw growing when I tried to maintain a starter long ago. He supports our bread habit as we buy one pound of dried yeast at a time.

My approach isn’t exact. However, I produce bread that rises and tastes good even without a recipe. I don’t use all the technical terms that I saw on the internet during the pandemic bread-baking phase. I stick to basic ingredients and easy methods. Bakers have used these successfully for thousands of years.

All this seemed familiar when I started studying the Babylonian tractate of Menachot. Menachot delves into the exact ways the rabbis thought meal (grain) offerings should be measured, cooked, burnt and sacrificed in the Temple in Jerusalem. The rabbis who discussed this mostly lived long after the Temple was destroyed. They’d never seen Temple offerings but they still discussed detailed recipes and techniques for proper sacrifice.

I remember the many online discussions about sourdough science. These were often people who, while baking beautiful pandemic sourdough, had never made bread previously, as I had. Of course, all of us would be shamed before our ancestors who, using a wooden bowl ripe with wild yeast, turned out bread consistently, day in and day out, to feed their families.

You might think, well, this isn’t for me if I don’t bake bread. Perhaps you never have worried about the ancient grain offerings in Jerusalem, or the “shrewbread” that became our modern equivalent, challah. All these discussions came to a head in Menachot, page 18a.

A question arises about whether a specific offering is fit (acceptable) and why. First, we learn about a meaningful teacher-student relationship between Rabbi Elazar ben Shammua and Yosef the Babylonian.

Yosef the Babylonian learns something from Rabbi Elazar ben Shammua that doesn’t seem entirely right to him. He questions his teacher several times. After multiple repetitions of a simple answer, Rabbi Elazar ben Shammua finally gives Yosef the Babylonian more information. He recalls another contradictory teaching from Rabbi Eliezer that agrees with what Yosef the Babylonian remembers.

Yosef the Babylonian erupts in joy. Both men are emotional, moved by the experience they’ve had, where careful analysis brings them important understanding and resolution. Yosef the Babylonian is relieved – he had worried that what he’d remembered was a mistake because he couldn’t find anyone else who recalled what Rabbi Eliezer had taught. Rabbi Elazar ben Shammua cries, filled with wonder. They celebrate Torah study, which maintains an intellectual genealogy of teachers and students by the historic transmission of knowledge. It’s a careful recounting of discussion and disputes, rather than just a simple, reflexive answer.

Menachot 18a, like bread-baking, shows that, if we get bogged down in the technical details, we can also be swept up in the transformation that occurs when we get everything – that we study or bake – right. This story is about mistakes, forgetting, misinformation and complex opinions. This tractate might describe how to do defunct sacrifice recipes correctly. It’s also about how we transmit important knowledge. We need to keep the facts straight, without forgetting anything, and synthesize complex opinions.

This is relevant today. We’re struggling daily to keep track of what’s happening in the world. Is it legal? Is it ethical? How does it affect us? In an age of “instant” information, diminished international reporting, social media disinformation campaigns and simplistic interpretations, it’s no wonder that we need to work hard to figure out what’s happening. It’s just as important now to do one’s own footwork. We must ask questions and analyze information carefully, just as when Yosef the Babylonian sat with his teacher, Rabbi Elazar ben Shammua, sometime between 135 and 170 CE.

We can get swept up in the technical aspects of our lives, whether it’s sourdough baking or legal proceedings. Yet, we also have that practical compass that guides us. I know intuitively, after decades of practice, how to throw together flour, salt, water and yeast, when to add sweetness, oil or eggs, and why. It’s a gut feeling, as deep as my internal moral compass that reacts when I see something wrong happening. Perhaps it’s how Judaism, my family or my community has shaped me, just as environment shapes all of us. Perhaps it’s an innate sense of the worth of each human being, as we are made in the image of the Divine. We know when things are going off the rails, and when we need to keep asking the hard questions to make change.

You could infer that all this refers to the current US upheaval, but it also relates to many other issues. For instance, at home, recent research found that Canadian Jews weren’t wrong about the CBC’s bias in reporting on the Israel-Hamas war. Statistical analysis indicates that yes, headlines, interviewer choices and perspectives lacked objectivity. If you, like me, questioned the CBC’s reporting over the last two years, just like Yosef questioned Rabbi Elazar ben Shammua, this information is reassuring.

Farther away, Israelis care passionately about democracy. Israelis ask their government tough questions, including protesting its poor record in protecting Arab citizens and its failure to provide a sufficient inquiry concerning Oct. 7. Regarding Iran’s upheaval, the Islamic regime’s repression means protesters risk murder, injury, torture and rape. Brave questioning of authority and pursuit of truthful information aren’t specific to one culture or country.

Yosef the Babylonian doubted himself. He repeatedly nudged his teacher. He worried that he’d made a mistake, but then bravely sought clarity to understand the bigger picture. We, too, can be so persistent that authority figures, like our teachers and government officials, must answer with thorough responses. Let’s not get bogged down in the technical details. It’s not whether you say that your bread dough rests, or uses an autolyze. Rather, listen to your gut. Go for the big questions. Think hard. Act to take the moral high ground. We all deserve something better. Let’s hope soon to break bread together, in peace and safety, with emotional, deep discussions.

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for the Winnipeg Free Press and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

My new best friend is Red

The author made RecipeTin’s Quick and Dirty Focaccia using her hands, giving her new best friend, Red, the night off. (photo by Shelley Civkin)

News flash: diamonds are not a girl’s best friend. They’re certainly a welcome acquaintance, but are they always there when you need them? No. Sometimes, they’re hiding out in a safety deposit box. I have something better than diamonds – a new BFF. And her name is Red. Full name: KitchenAid Artisan Stand Mixer in Empire Red. She’s the culinary equivalent of an Alfa Romeo convertible. Let me put my gushing admiration of her in context with this bit of background info.

I am on the cusp of turning 70 and my sweet husband thoughtfully and preemptively bought me something I’ve thought about for a long time: a KitchenAid stand mixer. I know, I know, who doesn’t already own a KitchenAid stand mixer? Me, that’s who. And it’s not for lack of encouragement on Harvey’s part. I have, for the better part of the last 50 years, always used an entry-level electric hand mixer. And it’s served me just fine. Mostly. Until the motor blew on my original Sunbeam, circa 2000.

Reluctantly, I transitioned to a KitchenAid electric hand mixer and, while flashy, it was not nearly as powerful as my good old $20 Sunbeam. It wasn’t bad. It was just a bit too delicate for my baking needs. I required something that could take a licking and keep on ticking. Sort of like a Timex, the kind they strapped onto the propeller of an outboard motor and dragged through a lake by a speedboat. And, if you remember that commercial, you are officially ancient. (You’re in good company though.) Realistically, a hand mixer has got to be able to go mano a mano with a good, stiff cookie dough. If it can’t manage that without slowing down and making weird noises, it’s not worth its weight in salt.

photo - KitchenAid Artisan Stand Mixer in Empire Red – aka Red — KitchenAid Artisan Stand Mixer in Empire Red – aka Red. *(photo by Shelley Civkin)*

But I no longer have those worries. I have Red. Since receiving this early birthday present, I have made dozens of cookies, countless cakes, muffins and meatballs. I must admit that the wire whisk still scares me a bit, but I’m certain I’ll warm up to it over time.

Like those people whose gardens get overrun by zucchini and end up going around at night dropping off bags of them on people’s doorsteps, I, too, am sharing. My new condo neighbour, Nancy, is the cheerful recipient of my KitchenAid labours of love. Especially the cookie variety. Turns out, it’s a great way to make friends. I mean, who doesn’t love free cookies on the regular?

I recently had a craving for focaccia, but gave my KitchenAid the day off and made Quick and Dirty Focaccia by hand (recipe courtesy of Instagram by RecipeTin). The recipe made a small batch, which saved me from over-indulging. Full disclosure: I have no self-control when it comes to fresh, warm focaccia. This was unlike any other focaccia I’ve ever made, though. Apparently, it’s all the rage on Instagram.

I wasn’t used to working with a wet, jiggly dough, but that’s the ticket to a legit fluffy focaccia. Other recipes I found called for the stretch-and-fold method, but I didn’t employ that here. It does look like a great way to get lots of air bubbles in the final product, but my batch of dough was small and didn’t really require it. I will definitely try that next time I make a bigger batch of dough.

QUICK & DIRTY FOCACCIA

2 cups bread flour
1 1/8 tsp instant yeast
3/4 tsp kosher salt
1 cup plus 2 tbsp very warm water
1 1/2 tbsp olive oil
1/4 tsp (heaping) sea salt flakes or kosher salt
kalamata olives, rosemary or za’atar (optional)

Preheat oven to 425˚F. Mix flour, yeast and salt. Make a well and pour in water and mix. Cover with plastic wrap and rise in a warm place for 2 hours, until doubled in size. The dough will be very wet and jiggly.

Generously grease a 10.5” x 8” x 2” metal or glass pan with oil. Press a scrunched-up piece of parchment paper into the pan and leave an overhang. Drizzle the parchment paper generously with olive oil, too. (Scrunching the parchment ensures that it will lay flat and that the dough will get into every crevice of the pan.)

Scrape the focaccia batter into the pan. Do not punch or deflate the dough beforehand. Coax it into the corners with your oiled fingers as best you can. Cover with something heavy (a cast-iron pan or cutting board) and leave it to rise by 50% (about 45 minutes).

Drizzle olive oil on the surface of the dough and spread it with your oiled fingers. Dimple the dough vigorously with your fingers and sprinkle with the sea salt and any other toppings you like (optional, but think kalamata olives, rosemary, za’atar, etc.).

Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, rotating the pan after 15 minutes. Cool on a rack for about 10 minutes.

It should turn out crunchy on top, but airy and fluffy on the inside, perfect for dipping in a plate of olive oil and balsamic vinegar. It’s a quick and easy way to elevate a meal and makes a nice between-meals snack or sandwich. And, of course, you can’t overlook the therapeutic benefits of getting your fingers all oily and your nails all full of dough. If you’re someone who doesn’t like to get down and dirty when you bake, then this isn’t for you. I, however, am a full-contact baker.

I make a more traditional focaccia where kneading is required, and it’s made in a cast-iron fry pan, but it’s an altogether different process. The end results are different, for sure, so it’s really a matter of taste. Either way you cut it, focaccia is delicious and lends itself to all sorts of varieties and toppings. Believe it or not, I’ve seen a recipe for chocolate focaccia, but that’s a bit too out there even for me. Enjoy your bread and be sure to share.

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.

Sesame’s breadth and depth

I made my wife a rockstar carrot cake for her birthday last week. Thanks to the JCC Jewish Book Festival, I received a review copy of Sesame: Global Recipes & Stories of an Ancient Seed by Rachel Simons, which features a unique take on one of my wife’s favourite desserts. The Tahini Cream Cheese Frosting with Carrot Cake & Seed Brittle was a hit – as was every other recipe I tried from the book. Everything I made looked beautiful and tasted great.

New York-based Simons, founder of Seed + Mill, the first store in the United States to focus solely on sesame products, will be in Vancouver for a JBF pre-festival event Feb. 8, 7 p.m. Tickets are $20. (Go to jccgv.com/jewish-book-festival.)

Simons seems delightful, with a passion for gardening, family, travel and being an entrepreneur. In Sesame, she shares some of her background, what led her to become an expert in all things sesame – the seed, oil and paste (tahini). We also learn a bit about the history of sesame and tahini. There are 80-plus recipes, ranging in complexity, most accompanied by a brief introduction. The whole presentation is appealing: the book’s layout, the feel of its pages, the photography by Alan Benson and illustrations by Evelina Edens; credit is given to Maren Ellingboe King for some of the text.

Just before the recipe section, Simons notes how hard it was for her to write many of the recipes, as she tends not to follow recipes herself, and cooks more “by instinct and with lots of practice.” This is an important note because newbie cooks might have to Google pieces of information like how long it takes to bake a cake at 350˚F, because Simons doesn’t give any baseline, just writes “bake until a skewer … comes out clean.” Even with Google and Simons’ advice, I slightly undercooked my cakes. Yes, cakes. Somehow, though I’m positive I followed the recipe to a tee and the cake we ate tasted amazing, I had twice as much batter as I was supposed to have. (I froze the second cake.)

There were other, smaller surprises with each recipe. And every recipe took me longer to make than indicated. I often find that with cookbooks though – if I were to rinse and de-leaf my cilantro, parsley, etc., chop all the nuts, etc., in advance, then maybe I could make something within the allotted time, but instead I plan for it to take two to three times as long as suggested.

On the day I made the carrot cake, I wanted to leave as much guilt-free room as possible, so made the Thai-Inspired Tahini, Lime & Broccoli Salad. It was full of flavour, seasoned with tahini and lime, as per its name, as well as soy sauce, hot honey for a bit of bite, garlic, lots of cilantro and mint for freshness, peanuts and sesame seeds for protein and texture.

The next day, we had friends over and served Pistachio and Whipped Feta, with veggies and pita bread, as an appy. A couple of tablespoons of tahini, a bunch of cilantro, plus lemon juice and, especially, lemon zest made this dip disappear quickly.

Birthday day started with An Indulgent Middle Eastern Breakfast Toast, which was all its name promised. I couldn’t find labneh, so substituted in pressed yogurt. While the recipe said the sprinkle of Sweet Dukkah was optional, I’d argue it’s essential. All together, this rich, tangy, toasted, sweet treat demanded a second serving.

In all this cooking, I’ve stained several pages of Sesame and will, no doubt, stain others, as this book becomes one of my staples. I’ve already made a few other things that are not included here for space reasons, not taste reasons. It’s all yum.

AN INDULGENT MIDDLE EASTERN BREAKFAST TOAST
(serves one)

1 thick slice sourdough bread
1 tbsp labneh
1 to 2 tbsp tahini
1 tbsp honey or date syrup
1/8 tsp flaky salt
Shake of Sweet Dukkah (recipe below)

Toast the bread or leave it fresh, depending on your preference. Spread the labneh on the bread, then drizzle with the tahini and honey and finish with the flaky salt and Sweet Dukkah (if using). Serve immediately.

SWEET DUKKAH
(makes about 2.5 cups)

1 cup sesame seeds
1/2 cup pistachios, coarsely chopped
1/2 cup almonds, coarsely chopped
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground cardamom
1/2 tsp flaky salt
1/2 cup unsweetened coconut flakes
2 tbsp edible dried rose petals (optional)

1. Preheat the oven to 375˚F. Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.

2. Spread the sesame seeds, pistachios and almonds on the baking sheet. Sprinkle with the cinnamon, cardamom and salt and toss to evenly combine.

3. Bake for 6 minutes, then give the baking sheet a vigorous shake to move the nuts and seeds around. Add the coconut and shake the sheet again. Return the mixture to the oven and bake until the coconut has turned golden brown, 4 to 6 minutes. Check regularly to make sure the dukkah isn’t burning.

4. Cool the dukkah completely on the pan before adding the rose petals (if using). Store in an airtight container in the pantry for up to two months.

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.

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!

I smashed it! You can, too.

Semi-Vegan Mini Fake Marry Me Cheesecakes, adapted from joyfoodsunshine.com. (photo by Shelley Civkin)

It seems that smashing food is having a moment. And I don’t mean smashing as in the British term for fabulous. I mean literally smashing. Like smashed baby potatoes, which are, in fact, smashing.

The fun thing about smashing various foods is that it’s a way of cooking that’s eminently forgiving. You can incorporate all kinds of spices or marinades and it’s pretty much bulletproof. Full disclosure: I’ve been eating way too many starchy foods lately, and not nearly enough Canada’s Food Guide choices. Enter yummy broccoli, stage right. This particular recipe is taken from Kalejunkie (Nicole Modic). I tweaked it a bit and plan on tweaking it even more next time. I might substitute summer savoury herbs for garlic, or add a bit of sesame oil. Whatever you try, I’m sure you (and your guests) will love it.

LEMON PARMESAN SMASHED BROCCOLI
(adapted from Kalejunkie)

1 large crown of broccoli
1/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/4 cup olive oil
1 lemon juiced
1 tsp garlic powder
1 tsp coarse kosher salt
1/2 tsp ground black pepper

• Preheat oven to 425˚ F.

• Wash broccoli and cut it up into small florets, including part of the stems. Put into microwave-safe bowl, add a bit of water and microwave until soft but not mushy. Drain the water off and let the broccoli dry on a paper towel.

• Prepare the lemon vinaigrette by whisking the ingredients together in a small bowl. Set it aside.

• Line a baking sheet with parchment paper, and spread the broccoli florets evenly across parchment. Then, using the bottom of a solid drinking glass, smash the broccoli down until it’s as flat as possible. Repeat with each floret.

• Once the florets are smashed, brush the lemon vinaigrette evenly across all the florets. Then add a generous sprinkle of the grated Parmesan cheese on top of each floret.

• Bake the broccoli in the oven for approximately 20-25 minutes, until the edges of the broccoli are crispy and the cheese has melted. The time will depend on your oven, so keep an eye on them.

photo - Lemon Parmesan Smashed Broccoli, adapted from Kalejunkie. — Lemon Parmesan Smashed Broccoli, adapted from Kalejunkie. (photo by Shelley Civkin)

The recipe says that leftovers can be stored in an airtight container in the fridge for up to one week, but I guarantee you there won’t be any leftovers. Not a chance. These are so good that I’ve passed them off as appetizers, midday snacks and side dishes. My husband and I polished off an entire head of smashed broccoli before dinner the other night. I never knew healthy food could be this good. This coming from the Queen of Junk Food.

Once you feel all high and mighty for having just consumed a full head of smashed broccoli, feel free to blow it all by sampling some mini no-bake chocolate cheesecakes – or fake cheesecakes, as I call them. Any way you parse it, there is no cheese in these, yet they’re not fully vegan either.

Called mini because they’re made in mini-muffin pans, you can actually make these in a regular six-to-eight-inch springform pan if you so choose. It won’t come out like a two- or three-inch New York-style cheesecake, but I never promised you a rose garden, either.

I didn’t try making them in a mini-muffin pan because I didn’t know if I’d be able to get them out of the liners easily. Plus, I only have one mini-muffin pan. Maybe next time. Like pretty much everything I cook and bake, these are easy to make and require few, if any, exotic ingredients. I found this recipe online at joyfoodsunshine.com by Laura.

SEMI-VEGAN MINI FAKE MARRY ME CHEESECAKES
(adapted from joyfoodsunshine.com)

2 cups Oreo cookie crumbs (about 27 cookies, crushed)
1/4 cup butter, melted
1/2 cup coconut cream
6 tbsp maple syrup
1 cup roasted unsalted cashews, soaked in boiling water
1/4 cup butter, melted
1/2 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips (or unsweetened chocolate), melted
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/4 tsp sea salt

• First, boil 2 cups of water. Place the cashews in a glass container and pour boiling water over them until they are completely covered. Let soak for at least one hour.

• Line and grease a mini-muffin pan or grease a 6”-8” springform pan. Set aside.

• Using a food processor or blender, crush the cookies until they become fine crumbs. Mix melted butter and cookie crumbs together until well combined.

• Drop 1 tablespoon portions of the cookie crumb mixture into each well of the mini-muffin pan. Use your fingers to press the crumbs evenly around the bottom of each well. Repeat with each until all the cookie crumb mixture has been used. Put the mini-muffin pan in the freezer so the crust can harden.

• Drain the cashews. Put all the ingredients – in the order listed – into a high-powered blender. Turn on low, gradually increasing to high speed. Blend until all ingredients are combined and the mixture is smooth (about 1 minute).

• Remove mini-muffin pan from freezer and make sure crumb crust is hardened. Add 2 tablespoons of chocolate filling to each muffin well. Smooth with your fingers and press the air out of each well. Refrigerate for at least 4 hours or, better yet, overnight. Top with extra melted chocolate chips, if desired.

If you use a 6”-8” springform pan instead of mini-muffin pans, your cheesecake will still turn out fine, except it won’t have the height of a regular cheesecake. It will only be about an inch-and-a-half high.

In hindsight, I should never have told my husband I was making cheesecake because, the moment he took that first bite, his nose crinkled up, his eyes narrowed and he declared (with no small measure of distaste): “Wait, this isn’t cheesecake!”

I proceeded to (accidentally) call it vegan cheesecake, which really revved up his wrath. Then I corrected myself, because neither chocolate chips nor Oreo cookies are vegan – when you track their lineage, their ancestors have both a face and parents. Fine. Guilty as charged.

I also fed him this bogus cheesecake after chilling it for only three-and-a-half hours, when I should have waited until the next day, so the filling had time to firm up. Make no mistake, this was no kind of version of thick New York cheesecake. But neither was it pudding. That’s why I went with calling it fake cheesecake, following the recent trend of fake news.

Update: Within 24 hours, my husband had willingly helped me scarf down the remaining fake cheesecakes with no further resistance. I’ll let you do the math.