baking – Jewish Independent

Scrumptious soup ’n’ cookies

Kermit Soup, ready to serve. (photo by Shelley Civkin)

Treat your friends to one little taste of my Kermit Soup (aka kale-and-potato soup) and I guarantee they’ll be green with envy. Granted, it’s an unholy colour, which could be off-putting to some, but don’t dismiss it out of spoon. Even those who vigorously eschew kale (and aren’t partial to green) will be begging for seconds.

During these seemingly endless, dark days of fall and winter, there’s nothing more comforting than a thick, hearty soup. (Unless of course it’s a healthy serving of 15-year-old Balvenie, but that’s just wasted calories.) To me, soups are the bait-and-switch of mealtimes. If you haven’t been shopping in awhile, and all you’re planning for dinner is tuna sandwiches, then a good, substantial soup can easily step up to the plate and take on the starring role. After all, soup has got so much going for it: it’s filling, scrumptious and everything else pales by comparison. Especially if it’s Kermit Soup (you’ll see what I’m talking about soon enough). Don’t feel you need to apologize for its aberrant tint. I mean, just take a look around at the freakish hair colours you see on the streets. Kermit Soup has absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. Nor do you.

It does help if you have a really good blender to make this soup. In fact, it’s rather essential. I’ve got a Breville at home and that sucker could crush rocks. (I’m pretty sure my blender has a bigger engine than my car.) Yams? No problem. Acorn squash? A joke. Carrots? In its sleep. Not that my recipe calls for any of those. Just saying. So, without further ado – meet the star of the dinner show.

KERMIT SOUP

2 cloves garlic
3 small/medium Yukon gold potatoes, diced
half a large yellow onion
6 cups baby kale, chopped and lightly packed (the store wouldn’t let me take it without parental permission, so I used adult kale instead)
4 tbsp unsalted butter
1 quart (4 cups) chicken (or mushroom) broth
Salt and pepper to taste

Mince the garlic.
Peel and chop the onion.
Peel and cube the potatoes.
Rinse kale and drain it well. Remove the thick stems then chop it up.
Melt butter over medium heat in a heavy soup pan.
Add garlic, onion, potatoes, and salt and pepper to taste.
Stir and cook for several minutes over medium heat.
Add the broth and bring it to a boil. Skim off fat from the top.
Gently simmer with the lid on for about 15 minutes or until potatoes are tender.
Add the kale and cook without the lid for about three to five minutes or until tender.
Transfer the soup to a blender a few cups at a time and puree. You might want to remove the little circle part of the blender lid to let some of the steam escape (but not while the blender is running). As each pureed batch is ready, pour it into another saucepan.
Ready to serve! It’s even better reheated the next day, and it’s good cold, too. If you’re not too hungry, have some bread with it and you’ve got yourself a light, yet filling fall meal. You’re welcome.

So, by now you’ve devoured your Kermit Soup and tuna sandwiches. To great acclaim. The soup, that is. An hour-and-a-half goes by and you’re jonesing for something sweet. Now what? You could get in your car and drive to some overpriced, hipster dessert restaurant that charges $12.95 for a two-inch purple yam, all-vegan crème brulée. Or, you could rock it old school. In the comfort of your own home. With Weetabix Chocolate Chip Cookies.

Yes, Virginia, Weetabix is more than just a breakfast cereal. Plus, it adds a nice crunchy texture to your cookies that you won’t soon forget (unless you overdo it with that 15-year-old Balvenie I referenced earlier. But that’s on you, not me). I always keep a box of Weetabix around, just in case of a cookie emergency. Which seems to happen with increasing frequency. And there are always chocolate chips hidden in my freezer (as if I don’t know where they are). So, go ahead, don your apron, pretend you’re Suzie Homemaker or Donna Reed and bake your family some irresistible cookies.

WEETABIX CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES

4 Weetabix, crushed
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
3/4 cup soft butter or margarine
1/2 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1/4 cup granulated white sugar
1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1 egg
1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

Mix together crushed Weetabix, flour, baking soda and salt in medium bowl. Set aside.
In a large bowl, using a hand mixer, cream together butter/margarine and sugars. Beat in vanilla and egg.
Add dry ingredients and mix well. Stir in chocolate chips.
Drop dough by tablespoonsful onto an ungreased baking sheet (or line with parchment paper).
Bake at 350°F for 12 minutes (or slightly longer for a crispier cookie).
Eat and repeat. Or eat ’em and weep. I’ll leave that to your discretion. These are so popular that you might want to make two batches at once. Just to be on the safe side. One batch never lasts more than half a day in my home, and there are only two of us. Again, you’re welcome.

These aren’t exactly balabatish recipes. More like nouveau accidental balabusta. But I do stand behind them. You see, I’m channeling my inner balabusta while I make them, and that’s good enough for me. I’ll leave the rugelach, kichele and komish broit to some other ambitious balabusta. On some other day. It just goes to show that food doesn’t need some fancy Yiddish name to taste geshmak. One bite of these Weetabix cookies and one spoonful of this Kermit Soup and you’ll be kvelling all over the place. Just clean up after all that kvelling, OK? Bottom line: it’s all about the heart and soul of the cook.

So, stop kvetching and get thee into the kitchen. Those cookies and soup aren’t going to make themselves. Just promise me one thing – you won’t ask for a refund if you don’t love the Kermit Soup.

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.

Sweetness of chocolate chips

(photo by Kimberly Vardeman)

Chocolate chips were created when chocolate chip cookies were invented in 1937 – Ruth Graves Wakefield of the Toll House Inn in Whitman, Mass., added cut-up chunks of a semi-sweet Nestlé chocolate bar to a cookie recipe.

The cookies were a huge success, and Wakefield reached an agreement in 1939 with Nestlé to add her recipe to the chocolate bar’s packaging in exchange for a lifetime supply of chocolate. Initially, Nestlé included a small chopping tool with the chocolate bars. In 1941, Nestlé and at least one of its competitors started selling the chocolate in “chip” (or “morsel”) form.

Originally, chocolate chips were made of semi-sweet chocolate, but today there are many flavours of chips, including bittersweet, peanut butter, butterscotch, mint chocolate, white chocolate, dark chocolate, milk chocolate, and white and dark swirled chips.

Here are some of my favourite recipes.

MOM’S CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES
5 dozen small cookies

1/3 cup oil (Mom, z”l, used 1/2 cup shortening)
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
1 egg
1 package chocolate chips
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt (I eliminate this)
1 1/8 cups flour
1/2 cup chopped nuts
1/2 tsp vanilla

Preheat oven to 375°F. Spray cookie sheets with vegetable spray or cover with parchment paper.
Combine oil, sugars and egg in a mixing bowl or food processor.
Add chocolate chips, baking soda, flour, nuts, vanilla (and salt). Blend well.
Spoon on cookie sheets with a teaspoon or tablespoon. Bake for eight to 10 minutes. Remove from oven and let cool on a rack.

ELISHEVA’S CHOCOLATE CHIP OATMEAL COOKIES
I tasted these at a Hadassah Israel meeting. They were made by one of our members and I had to have the recipe.

1 cup margarine or butter, softened (I use 3/4 cup oil)
1 1/4 cups firmly packed brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
2 eggs
2 tbsp milk (I use Rich’s non-dairy creamer or soy milk)
2 tsp vanilla
1 tsp baking soda
1 3/4 cups flour
pinch of salt (which I don’t add)
2 cups uncooked oatmeal
1 package chocolate chips
1 cup coarsely chopped nuts (optional)

Preheat oven to 475°F. Place parchment paper on cookie sheets.
Beat margarine or butter (or oil) and sugars until creamy in a bowl. Add eggs, milk and vanilla. Beat well.
Add flour and baking soda (and salt). Mix well.
Stir in oatmeal, chocolate chips and nuts. Mix well.
Drop by rounded tablespoons onto cookie sheet. Bake for nine or 10 minutes for a chewy cookie, 12 to 13 minutes for a crispy cookie.

DIABETIC (SPLENDA) CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES
30 cookies

2 cups flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt (I never add salt)
1 cup melted butter (I use 1/4 cup + 2 tbsp vegetable oil)
1 cup Splenda brown sugar blend
2 large eggs
1 tbsp vanilla extract
2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 375°F. Line cookie sheets with parchment paper.
Combine flour, baking powder and baking soda in a bowl. Set aside.
Mix butter (oil) and Splenda in a large bowl. Stir in eggs. Add vanilla and mix. Stir in flour mixture. Fold in chocolate chips.
Drop dough by tablespoon onto cookie sheets. Bake for 11 to 13 minutes. Allow to cool before moving to racks to cool completely.

Sybil Kaplan is a journalist, lecturer, book reviewer and food writer in Jerusalem. She created and leads the weekly English-language Shuk Walks in Machane Yehuda, she has compiled and edited nine kosher cookbooks.

Enter focaccia, stage right

Focaccia straight from the oven. (photo by Shelley Civkin)

Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines, please. Or, in this case, your yeast. From zero to focaccia in one hour.

My unpremeditated transformation from water-burner to bread-baker is shocking even to me. Or especially to me. When hubby Harvey came home one day with a cast-iron pan, I got über excited, thinking I could now fry like my father used to. Though, when frying became a dirty word in the 1990s, he called it sautéeing. But, somehow, sautéeing seemed too prosaic for the mighty cast iron, so I started investigating what else I could do with the skillet.

Thanks to Google and Pinterest’s cookies, they now know that I like baking bread. I automatically get links to recipes for cast-iron bread-baking. Every. Five. Minutes. Enter focaccia, stage right. Or, if you’re Italian … entra nella scena della focaccia a destra.

I perused the myriad recipes and took a few of them on a test drive. Or test bake, as it were. The following recipe overtook the others by a mile, and won in the finest focaccia category. Here’s a link to the winning One-hour Rosemary Focaccia Bread I’ve come to love: flavorthemoments.com/one-hour-rosemary-focaccia-bread. (It actually takes an hour-and-a-half, if you include the time it takes to preheat your oven.)

It’s my go-to quick bread recipe. It’s truly no-fail. Feel free to ditch the garlic and Parmesan, or add more rosemary. You can’t screw up this bread. After my first try, I was hooked. I let the gorgeously golden focaccia cool, sliced it into small rectangles, like they do in Italian restaurants, and dipped it in EVOO (shorthand for extra virgin olive oil). Which made me wonder what an “extra virgin” is? Something to ponder another time. Never mind. Not relevant. Anyway, I’ve made this focaccia several times. Needless to say, I am not getting thinner. But my Italian is improving.

Now that I’ve pretty much nailed down challah and focaccia, I decided to branch out and try making a no-knead round crusty bread. You know, like sourdough. Minus the sour. The kind that requires you to have a Dutch oven. Google and Pinterest are way ahead of me, so they’ve been sending me nonstop recipes and pix of Dutch oven bread. All I had to do was think about crusty bread and they were on it.

I recently learned that not all Dutch ovens are created equal. They’re mostly made from cast iron covered in enamel, but not all of them can withstand the high heat you need to use. Thing is, for crusty bread, you have to heat the Dutch oven to about 450 degrees – empty. Then you put the dough in it. You don’t want to ruin a fancy shmancy Dutch oven over a loaf of bread. Even though my Dutch oven isn’t one of those $400 Le Creuset ones – it’s a $65 one from Costco, which works perfectly for pot roast, chicken and everything in between – I’m loathe to risk ruining it over bread. Sure, I could go buy one of the fancy Dutch ovens but, seriously, $400 for a crusty loaf? Not in this lifetime. I worked too hard to fritter my money away like that. And, like I always say, just because you can afford to buy something, doesn’t mean you should.

So, I improvised and used an ancient Magnalite aluminum-magnesium alloy Dutch oven that belonged to my friend’s late mother. I’m hoping I don’t get Alzheimer’s, what with the aluminum connection, but it’s not like I’m going to be making every single meal in it. Anyway, the bread was a marginal success. The outside looked gorgeously crusty but, once I cut into it, parts were doughy and uncooked. Bake and learn. I’ll try it a few more times, tweaking the temperature, increasing the rising time, etc., and hope for the best. If at first you don’t succeed, well, suck it up and try again.

I can hear some readers wondering why I would want to waste half a day baking bread from scratch, when I could just go out and buy a loaf. Well, there’s something indescribable about the smell of fresh baked bread wafting through my home. It’s a little like a comestible aphrodisiac. It makes me weak at the knees, thinking about the butter melting slowly over the hot bread, as I sniff it lovingly with anticipation. Wait, this is becoming a little X-rated. I need to get a grip. Sorry. Suffice to say that my husband and I adore fresh bread and appreciate the effort it takes to make it. And, since I’m a notorious multi-tasker, I busy myself with other things while the dough is rising, so there’s no wasted time. Like now, for instance. I’m writing this article while waiting for my rosemary and Kalamata olive bread dough to double in size.

Never having been one to let grass grow under my feet, my next culinary foray will be gravlax. Ever since tasting my friend Roxanne’s heavenly gravlax last Pesach, I’ve been itching to give it a go. Since salmon season is upon us, there’s no time like the present. Harvey’s on board too, but not as a cook as much as a taste-tester. From what I can tell, it’s a ridiculously easy thing to make, as long as you have truckloads of salt, sugar, dill and time. No, not thyme. Once I perfect the recipe, I’ll share it with you. But not until then.

You can try till you’re blue in the face to convince me that store-bought food is just as good as homemade, but I’m not buying it. Literally or figuratively. There’s just something about the laying on of hands, the investment of love and effort, and the satisfaction at the end of it all, that makes homemade food so very worth it.

I suspect I might have made a very dedicated homesteader. As long as I had an electric stove and oven, and a good refrigerator. Oh, and maybe somewhere close by where I could get a good decaf, low-foam, lactose-free latte while I was growing my own food, baking bread and churning butter. Am I country girl at heart? Hell, no! I am about as cityfied as they come. To wit, my idea of camping is a Motel 8. And outhouses? They should be outlawed.

Enough said.

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, and currently writes a bi-weekly column about retirement for the Richmond News.

Quinoa, bread and date bars

Food You Want for the Life You Crave by Nealy Fischer (Da Capo Lifelong Books, 2019) is a delight to read. Not only are there at least 128 gluten-free recipes in this kosher cookbook, but there are 107 full-colour photographs, many of the author and her family sampling the recipes and enjoying them.

“These pages are designed to help you obtain a simpler recipe for success, both in and out of the kitchen,” writes Fischer, noting “these pages are infused with craveable global recipes inspired by our life in Asia and Israel.” The author started to adhere to a gluten-free diet more than 10 years ago.

The recipes have two strategies: “nail this,” the most essential elements to master for a dish’s success, and “flip it,” tips to encourage readers to be creative and to adapt the recipe to their preferences and limitations. Fischer gives readers a 10-step guide to becoming a flexible chef; a substitution chart; pantry, fridge and freezer essentials; and useful gadgets. Chapters include all-day breakfast, breads and muffins; soups and small plates; salads and dressings; fish, poultry and meat; veggies; desserts; drinks and nibbles for friends; and condiments and pantry essentials. The book concludes with a conversion cheat sheet.

One nice idea in the formating is a list of what tools to use above the list of ingredients, which is bolded and, where applicable, divided into dry and wet ingredients and toppings. She also has my favourite element in cookbooks – numbered instructions opposite the ingredients so you don’t have to keep looking up and down. My other favourite aspect is a comment about each recipe. Here are a few of the recipes to try.

SAVOURY QUINOA BOWL
4-6 servings

1/2 cup red or white quinoa (makes 2 heaping cups cooked)
2 small Persian or Kirby cucumbers, chopped (1 1/2 cups)
2 chopped tomatoes (about 1 cup)
1 peeled, chopped avocado (about 1 cup)
1 cup arugula
1/2 cup chopped green onion (about 4)
1/2 cup chopped fresh mint
1/4 cup finely chopped shallots
3 tbsp lemon juice
4 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
6 large eggs

Start by cooking the quinoa. Mix it with one cup water in a saucepan or pot over medium low heat. Bring to a simmer and cook, covered, for 10 minutes. Check to see if it is done or needs a tad more liquid. Set aside to cool.
Toss the cucumbers, tomatoes, avocado, arugula, green onions, mint and shallots in a large bowl.
Add the cooled quinoa to the veggie bowl then season with lemon juice, olive oil, salt and pepper.
Divide the mixture between six bowls.
Fry the eggs in a lightly oiled pan over medium heat until the whites have set, or to desired doneness. Season with salt and pepper to taste, then carefully slide them on top of the quinoa bowls.

HERBED EVERYDAY BREAD
2 mini loaves or 1 large loaf

1 packet active dry yeast (2 1/4 tsp)
1/4 cup warm water
1 cup all-purpose gluten-free flour
1 cup oat flour
1/4 cup almond flour
1/4 cup flax meal
2 tsp xanthan gum (omit if already in flour)
1 1/2 tsp dried rosemary
1 tsp salt
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
2 large eggs + 1 beaten for brushing
2 tbsp raw honey
1/2 tsp rice vinegar

In a large bowl, mix the yeast with the warm water; let stand until the yeast bubbles, about eight minutes.
In a separate medium bowl, whisk together gluten-free flour, oat flour, flax meal, almond flour, xanthan gum, rosemary and salt.
Stir olive oil, two eggs, honey and rice vinegar into yeast mixture. Stir dry ingredients into bowl. Mix well.
Transfer dough to parchment-lined loaf pans and let stand covered in a warm place until bread rises to double in height (about 45 minutes).
Preheat the oven to 350°F.
Brush the top with the remaining beaten egg.
Bake the bread until it is golden and set in the centre, 30 to 35 minutes for mini loaves or about 45 minutes for a larger loaf. Cool the bread completely before removing from the pans and slicing.

DATE-BAR BITES
32 to 36 squares

1 pound Medjool dates, pitted and chopped
1/4 cup maple syrup
juice and zest of 1 orange
2/3 cup coarsely chopped raw walnuts or pecans
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 3/4 cups all-purpose gluten-free flour
1 1/2 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
1 cup packed dark brown sugar
3/4 cup coconut oil at room temperature
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/8 tsp salt

In a saucepan over medium heat, combine dates with half-cup water, maple syrup and orange juice and bring to a boil.
Remove the pan from the heat and stir in the orange zest, nuts, cinnamon and vanilla. Set aside.
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Grease a 13-by-9-inch baking pan or line it with parchment paper.
In a food processor, mix together flour, rolled oats, brown sugar, coconut oil, baking soda and salt until combination is crumbly but still holds together.
Press two-thirds of the dough into the baking pan (reserve one-third for the topping).
Spread the filling evenly over the crust. Sprinkle the remaining one-third of the topping over the filling. Bake for 30 minutes or until lightly golden.
Cool completely then refrigerate until cold to make the cutting easier. Cut into one-and-a-half-inch squares.

Chocolate babka debacle

Babka gone bad: The Accidental Balabusta’s first attempt at this Jewish treat was less than a stellar success. (photo by Shelley Civkin)

After I conquered challah and cholent, I felt it was time to tiptoe into the forbidden realm of babka. I say the word with a great deal of reverence, because, well, if you’ve ever eaten a spectacular babka, you know it’s something awe-inspiring. There are limitless variations of babka: chocolate, Nutella, boozy, apricot and cinnamon, pumpkin, butterscotch and more. I even found a recipe for babka ice cream sandwiches and babka bread pudding. This is not diet food. Never was. Never will be.

Babka is comprised of a basic challah dough or a butter challah dough. Every recipe is different and, sometimes, to achieve the perfect babka (which I am far from accomplishing) you need to do a bit of mixing and matching of recipes.

My first attempt at making chocolate babka was an unmitigated disaster. Not only was my dough so velvety soft that I couldn’t even roll it, but the filling was so thin that it smooshed out all over the place. Part of the problem was math. I have always been math challenged. In fact, I have a pair of socks that say: “The three things I hate most are math.” My brain shuts down when faced with mathematical conversions (yes, I know there are apps for that). Long story short, I mistakenly used a half-pound of butter instead of a half-cup of butter for my babka dough. Hence, the flaccid, unresponsive dough. Nobody likes flaccid dough. Most people don’t even like the word flaccid. Except sex therapists. Anyway….

My other challenge was not realizing that you have to refrigerate the dough for a bit before rolling it out and filling it. There are tons of YouTubes on how to make babka – I recommend viewing several of them before attempting this at home. Also, check out lots of Jewish cookbooks, too. I stress “Jewish” because we Jews know how to accentuate the caloric value of our food so that it tastes impossibly rich and irresistible. Jewish baking is famous for a reason. If a recipe calls for eight ounces of dark chocolate, what the hell, 12 ounces must be better. Half a cup of butter – why not half a pound? Don’t bother pointing it out. I see the error of my ways.

If my first attempt at babka was less than a stellar success, it’s not just because of the aforementioned infractions. My main excuse is my miniscule galley kitchen. I lay the blame squarely where it belongs: on the almost-nonexistent counter. Things are so squished in my kitchen that there’s very little room for food. Or utensils. Take, for example, my long, articulated spatula. It’s the perfect implement for shmearing the chocolate onto the dough before rolling it up. I digress.

Back to the babka. I started shmearing the chocolate and, part way though, I had to sneeze. So, I put the long spatula into the bowl with the melted chocolate sitting on my teeny, tiny counter. The sheer force of my sternutation – it was probably a 7.8 on the Richter scale – caused the chocolate-covered spatula to fly out of the bowl and splatter chocolate everywhere, and I mean everywhere. It ended up on the walls, the floor, me, the counter, the carpet and Harvey, who looked on in mute husbandly horror. It was like something out of a slasher movie. Except the splatter was 85% bittersweet cacao chocolate instead of blood. I could have been arrested for assault with a confectionery weapon. All that was missing was the yellow police tape.

As if that wasn’t enough, the excitement of it all caused me to knock the recipe into the sink, which was filled with dirty bowls and brown water. At that point, I almost cried. But I didn’t. Instead, I casually looked at my chocolate-covered hubby and said: “OK, no one died. I’m going to try again.” I was determined not to let this babka get the better of me. I was going to show it who was the boss.

After wiping chocolate off my face, the walls and the counter (I may have licked the counter), I rolled up the flaccid babka, shoved it into the fridge and poured myself a teeny, tiny single malt Scotch. Just to shore up my nerves. Once I’d consumed the liquid fortification, I took out the babka, sliced it down the middle lengthwise, which is kind of difficult when it’s not really a shape, and proceeded to twist it so that that the layers of dough and chocolate showed on the outside. Then, I carefully laid it to rest in a parchment-lined coffin. I mean loaf pan. Said Kaddish.

photo - Babka gone better: Subsequent babka attempts were more successful — Babka gone better: Subsequent babka attempts were more successful. *(photo by Shelley Civkin)*

Since I’d made enough dough for about 15 babkas (by mistake, of course … remember my math impairment?), I now had to figure out what to do with the rest of it. I was tempted to sell it on Craigslist, but how would I even describe it? “Blob of velvety soft dough for sale. Nearly house-trained. Enough to make several loaves of bread or a small border wall. If frozen. Pick-up only. $10 obo.” In all honesty, I would have paid someone to take it off my hands at that point.

Stuck with all that dough, I shmeared and shaped the rest of it into circles, rectangles and free-form sculptures, jammed them into every available pan I had, and shoved them into the oven to bake. The entire procedure took about 11 hours. My bone graft and tooth implant took less time. I think I started the whole process at around 9 a.m. and didn’t remove the final “babka” (I use that word loosely) until around 8 p.m. Of course, I’m also factoring in the time it took the restoration team to steam clean our entire apartment. Should have just moved.

By that time, there was no way I was making dinner. So, we ate three-quarters of one chocolate babka for dinner. Slathered in even more butter. I think I may have sent both of us into a slight sugar coma. Not sure. No paramedics were called, so it couldn’t have been that traumatic.

I put the rest of the evidence into the freezer, for when I want to scare some unsuspecting dinner guests. I promise, here and now, that my next foray into babka-making will start with single malt Scotch.

If I’m lucky, it may end there, too.

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, and currently writes a bi-weekly column about retirement for the Richmond News.

Teens bake for others

Teens from CTeens, NCSY and BBYO joined together for the Not Your Bubbies’ Babka Bake at Congregation Schara Tzedek on March 7. (photo from CTeens)

On March 17, teens from three local organizations – CTeens (Chabad Teens), NCSY (National Conference of Synagogue Youth) and BBYO (B’nai B’rith Youth Organization) – joined together for a mitzvah. Around 30 teens from Richmond and Vancouver gathered for the Not Your Bubbies’ Babka Bake at Congregation Schara Tzedek, where they learned how to braid challah and make chocolate babka.

This wasn’t an ordinary get-together, it was a mitzvah event, timed to help celebrate Purim. The challot went to seniors in the Light of Shabbat Program, and the teens took the babkas home.

The Light of Shabbat Program is run by Chabad Richmond, in partnership with the Kehila Society. Every other week, a group of volunteers makes and delivers full kosher meals, along with Shabbat candles and grape juice, to Richmond seniors who are alone on Friday nights. To find out more about the program, visit chabadrichmond.com/lightofshabbat. Part of the meal is homemade challah, which was made by these teens as part of the mishloach manot (also referred to as shalach manot), or Purim food baskets, given on the holiday.

It’s a mitzvah and tradition for adults to send a gift basket of ready-to-eat foods to at least one friend during the day of Purim. The baskets should include at least two foods, often hamantashen, chocolate, fruit, cookies or candy. The source of mishloach manot is the Megillah, or Book of Esther, which talks about “sending portions one to another, and gifts to the poor.” The idea of sending gifts of food on Purim is to strengthen our bonds of friendship with fellow Jews, as one theme of Purim is friendship and unity.

Aiden, a 15-year-old CTeen, said the reason he joined the Not Your Bubbies’ Babka Bake event was to meet other Jewish teens, and help out. “I love to bake,” he said, “and it makes me feel good knowing that the challahs we’re baking are going to seniors in our community.”

A CTeen for two years, Aiden wanted to feel more connected to the Jewish community, so he started going to shul at Chabad Richmond. Then he met Rabbi Chalom Loeub, who leads the CTeen program. Among other things, the CTeens get together every Sunday to bake cookies and cakes for seniors. Aiden also mentioned going to the CTeen International Shabbaton in New York, which he said was “incredible.” He’s now trying to get other Jewish teens involved in CTeen, too.

Jillian Marks, 17, was another participant in the challah and babka bake. She came to the event through her involvement with BBYO. As a youth leader for the Vancouver chapter, she wants to create “a pluralistic environment for everyone who wants to meet other Jews and feel safe and be whoever they want to be.” BBYO holds different events, all of which have some Jewish element to them. For this particular event, BBYO joined with CTeens and NCSY to “work together, not compete. You can be in all of the groups, not just in one of them,” said Marks.

Each of the youth groups emphasizes leadership skills, and many of their events are teen-run initiatives. Marks added that “the purpose of this challah/babka bake was not just to meet other Jewish teens, but also to volunteer and help out the community.”

All the teens echoed the same sentiments – that making challah for seniors is a mitzvah and that it feels good to volunteer. It’s a nice perk, they said, that they also get to meet other Jewish teens, adding that they would “get the word out” to their friends.

Several teens from NCSY, including Neer, 16, Jessie, 17, and Romy, 16, also attended the challah and babka bake. They run Live to Give, a social action outreach program for the local NCSY chapter. One of their projects is to take homemade baking to Louis Brier Home and Hospital residents. One of the teens said, “For seniors who have no family, or very little, it’s special for them, and it brings a lot of light to their life.”

Members of the NCSY chapter also make and deliver food to people in Oppenheimer Park. “It’s a great opportunity to help out in the community and it’s very rewarding,” said the teen.

Enjoy these Pesach desserts

In Jerusalem, as soon as Purim is over, everyone begins to get ready for Pesach. Two-and-a-half weeks ahead, macaroons are already in the stores, as well as various other products for the holiday. Here are a few desserts you can make at home, from traditional to unusual.

CLASSIC ALMOND MACAROONS
Makes 20 macaroons. This recipe is adapted from an American food magazine (not sure which).

1 1/2 cups blanched almonds
1/4 cup sugar
2 egg whites
1/4 tsp almond extract
3/4 cup sugar
4 tsp confectioners sugar

Place almonds in a pan, cover with water and bring to a boil. Boil 10 seconds. Remove one almond and see if it slips out of its skin. If not, boil a few seconds more. Spread on paper towels and pat dry once ready.
Preheat oven to 325 °F. Line a baking sheet with parchment or wax paper.
Grind almonds with 1/4 cup sugar in processor. Add egg whites and extract and blend 20 seconds. Add the 3/4 cup sugar in two batches, blending 10 seconds after each addition.
Roll one tablespoon of mixture between moistened palms into ball. Repeat until all mixture is used, spacing cookies one inch apart on the prepared cookie sheet. Flatten each to half-an-inch high. Brush each with water. Sift confectioners sugar over each. Bake for 25 minutes.
Lift one end of parchment paper and pour two tablespoons water onto cookie sheet. Lift other end and pour two tablespoons water under. Tilt to spread water. When water stops boiling, remove macaroons.

CHOCOLATE BISCOTTI
3/4 cup margarine or butter
2 1/8 cup sugar
6 eggs
2 tbsp vanilla extract
3 1/2 cups matzah flour
1 1/4 cups potato flour
3/4 cup cocoa
1 tbsp Passover baking powder
5/8 cup ground almonds
2 cups chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 375°F. Spray a cookie sheet.
In a bowl, cream margarine or butter and sugar. Add eggs and vanilla.
In another bowl, combine matzah flour, potato flour, cocoa and baking powder. Gradually add to batter.
Add nuts and chocolate chips and combine.
Form into two logs and place on cookie sheet. Bake for 30 minutes. Let cool.
Slice. Return slices to cookie sheet and bake 15 minutes.

TOFFEE MATZAH
This is my favourite sweet for Pesach but this version is an Andrew Zimmern contribution from Food & Wine magazine with a few of my changes.

1 cup salted butter or margarine
5 pieces of matzah
1 cup packed brown sugar
2 cups chocolate chips
1 cup mixed chopped nuts

Preheat oven to 350°F. Line a cookie sheet with foil and spray with vegetable spray. Line with parchment paper and spray again.
Arrange a layer of matzah on the sheet.
Melt butter or margarine with brown sugar in a saucepan. Cook five minutes. Pour over matzah. Bake five to eight minutes, until bubbling.
Remove from oven and spread chocolate chips on top, letting them melt for five minutes. Sprinkle nuts on top. Let cool or refrigerate to cool. Break into pieces.

MARILYN’S CHOCOLATE BRANDIED CANDY
Marilyn is a longtime friend of mine who came from the Boston area and has lived in Israel since 1949.

3 1/2 ounces bittersweet chocolate (a candy bar works fine)
1 cup raisins, soaked in cherry brandy
1 cup chopped walnuts
1 cup matzah pieces

Melt chocolate in a saucepan. Add raisins, walnuts and matzah and mix well.
Drop by tablespoon into small cupcake papers. Refrigerate.

Pinson writes definitive book

If I wrote that I had been trying to get a review copy of Rising: The Book of Challah by Rochie Pinson (Feldheim Publishers) since November 2016, readers would find that hard to believe, but the book only arrived at my door recently.

Pinson, who grew up in Vancouver, is co-founder of the IYYUN Centre for Jewish Spirituality with her husband, Rav DovBer Pinson, in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn. They have four children. She mentors women and teaches various classes. She also conducts a challah-baking workshop, which she teaches worldwide, including in Vancouver.

For Rising, Pinson has written 352 pages about challah. This book is about her philosophy, spirituality, history and everything you wanted to know about challah. And, yes, it includes recipes – 38 of them for challah and seven for toppings.

“The intent of challah,” writes the rebbetzin, “is to reveal our innate power to nurture and nourish, and reclaim our mothering potential in all the forms it can take.”

Section I, “The Story of Challah,” explains how, as a new bride, Pinson arrived in Kobe, Japan, which had no kosher bakery, and soon got into making 40 challot a week for the Jewish community.

The book then expands to other information about challah, spirituality and other topics, including a detailed examination of each ingredient and information on the concept of “rising.”

Section II is the cookbook, with reviews and details of ingredients and equipment and troubleshooting.

There are eight recipes, including her own classic challah recipe, gluten-free challah and vegan challah; eight holiday specialties, like apple-and-honey challah and pretzel challah; six recipes from around the world, including Moroccan challah, Yemenite challah and Bukharian challah; nine challah innovations, such as a “fish” challah (shaped like a fish with salmon, tuna, mushrooms and other vegetables), a deli challah (with deli meats) and a rainbow challah (using food colouring); and eight recipes for leftover challah, like babka, cinnamon bars and French toasts. Rising also has recipes for seven different challah toppings, including cream cheese frosting, and accompaniments for other dishes, such as challah stuffing and challah croutons.

Section III is called “Laws and Customs,” which is mainly self-explanatory, though it also includes challah meditations. A glossary and index conclude the book.

There are more than 100 colour photographs in Rising and many sketches, such as 37 ways to braid and shape a challah.

Rising really is the definitive “everything you ever wanted to know about challah” book, written with love and nurturing. It contains a huge amount of information, including the story of Pinson’s life “as realized through challah baking, and challah baking as a metaphor for balanced, integrated nurturing of our self and our loved ones.”

This is the book to give to anyone who bakes challah, and to anyone else who might be contemplating it.

Sybil Kaplan is a journalist, author, compiler/editor of nine kosher cookbooks and a food writer for North American Jewish publications, who lives in Jerusalem where she leads weekly walks of the Jewish food market, Machaneh Yehudah, in English.

The mitzvah of challah

On Rosh Hashanah, the challah is round and sweet, symbolizing our collective wish for a good, sweet year. (photo by Przemyslaw Wierzbowski)

It was two years ago that I fell in love with challah. I attended a challah baking workshop at a Jewish retreat and, at that point, the extent of my challah knowledge was that it’s sold in delis, comes in a plastic bag with a twist tie and makes great French toast. I was a challah virgin. This was around the same time that I was test-driving a more observant Jewish life, and figured it behooved me to learn more about our people’s famous braided egg bread. Little did I know how profoundly the workshop would affect me.

There we were, 40 or so Jewish women, up to our elbows in yeast dough, patiently following the instructor’s directions. She explained what each ingredient symbolizes, and how making challah each week is an auspicious time for Jewish women to pray for what they want and need. I was hooked. When it came time to make the blessing over the challah, that’s when I lost it, and became emotional. Something about a sisterhood of Jewish women gathered around tables doing something their mothers and grandmothers had been doing for generations struck a chord deep within me.

As I said the blessing, with my eyes closed and my hands atop the soft dough – “Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melech ha’olam asher kidshanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu, l’hafrish challah” – tears poured down my cheeks like they would never stop. The woman sitting next to me (almost a complete stranger) heard my sniffling and put her arm around me. I’m sure she was puzzled by my tearful response and, truth to tell, I was embarrassed, but I was overcome and just couldn’t help myself. Somehow, the mitzvah of making challah, and all that it symbolizes in our collective identity as Jewish women, hit me.

It mattered, in a deep-seated way, that I was part of something much bigger than myself – something inextricably tied to my Jewish roots, something to which I had paid scant attention over the years. I knew this activity would become a meaningful part of my life from that moment on. Challah is far more than just a food to sustain my family and me physically. It fills us spiritually as well. And that’s the most beautiful taste in the world.

Long story short, I now bake challah on a regular basis, for others and myself. It reminds me of who I am at my core. It draws me closer to my community of Jewish friends and acquaintances, and places me smack in the middle of what is real and true – my Yiddishkeit. Who knew that combining a few essential ingredients could produce such an inexplicable gift in my life?

It’s no secret that every Jewish custom is significant on a spiritual level. With Rosh Hashanah approaching, I set out to learn how to make one of the many unique symbols of the Jewish New Year – the round challah. The rest of the year, we make braided challot and dip them in salt, but, on Rosh Hashanah, the challah is round and sweet, symbolizing our collective wish for a good, sweet year. Its circular shape, which represents the cycle of life, has no beginning and no end, thereby symbolizing the continuity of the Jewish people. You could also say it’s a metaphor for the endless blessings that God sends us. Another interpretation is that the round challah resembles a crown, symbolizing the supreme power and authority of God.

As Rosh Hashanah nears, it’s a time for personal introspection and the beginning of our individual and collective teshuvah (return or repentance). We get ready to reflect, repent and ask for forgiveness. It’s a time to elevate ourselves and direct our thoughts and deeds toward a higher, more purposeful end. At precisely this time, when our thoughts turn to repentance and resolutions for improvement, the round challah reminds us that the opportunity for teshuvah is never-ending. This Rosh Hashanah, may we all be successful in elevating ourselves from our current reality into a higher, more spiritual state of being, on both an individual and collective level.

For those of you who want to learn more about the significance of baking challah, there’s a fascinating book called The Mitzvah of Challah by Esther Rivka Toledano (ArtScroll Mesorah Publications, 2018). The author dives deep into what is undeniably a mitzvah granted especially to women. She shares the history, the halachic (Jewish legal) guidelines, several recipes and lots more. The book goes far beyond the basics for those who really want to understand and embrace the mitzvah of challah.

May we all have a sweet, happy, healthy and prosperous New Year. L’shana tova u’metuka!

Shelley Civkin is a happily retired librarian and communications officer. For 17 years, she wrote a weekly book review column for the Richmond Review, and currently writes a bi-weekly column about retirement for the Richmond News.

Sweet birthday party for kids

Jordana Saks gets great joy from baking. (photo from Saks of Sweets)

“I love baking, because it’s a fun activity that allows me to be creative. More importantly, there is nothing more fulfilling than the wide-eyed smiles I see on other faces when they enjoy something that I have baked.”

Jordana Saks’ love of baking inspired her to create Saks of Sweets, which plans and leads kids’ birthday parties. “What better way to celebrate a birthday than with friends while baking, decorating and eventually eating the delicious cookies?” she asks on the business’s website.

Born and raised in Niagara Falls, Ont., Saks studied cognitive science at McGill University in Montreal, before heading to San Francisco for a year. She arrived in Vancouver about 18 months ago, and has been in love with the city ever since.

Recalling her early sweet baking impressions, Saks said, “I started baking as young as 6 years old. My mom and aunt inspired me to bake, and taught me the tricks of the trade. When the eggs in my aunt’s fridge were past the expiry date, she used to call me over to practise the art of cracking an egg.

“Every year at Chanukah, for the family party, my aunt and I would make cookies and spend hours decorating them with unique designs. In addition to this tradition, we baked at least one new recipe each month. Still, to this day, when I visit home, we get together for a baking day – trying new recipes and recreating past ones.”

When Saks was studying at McGill, she used baking as a stress reliever, leaving her and her roommate with an abundance of baked goods.

“To prevent ourselves from eating an entire cake or a couple dozen cookies, I started an Instagram account called Saks of Sweets, where I could share when and what I was baking,” said Saks. “My friends would comment on what they wanted to try. I would find out where they were studying on campus and would deliver the goods, until nothing was left of that batch.”

When she moved to Vancouver, Saks recalls listening to a podcast called Side Hustle School, with Chris Guillebeau. “The entrepreneurial wheels in my brain were turning,” she said. “I was thinking about my passions and how I could channel those into a business. And, combined with my love for baking is my love for working with children. I’ve had many experiences working with kids and have enjoyed every one of them. After sitting down for an hour at a coffee shop and thinking about how to combine these two passions, the idea for Saks of Sweets quickly emerged.”

Saks of Sweets provides in-house baking birthday parties. Saks’ clients have loved the parties because, as parents, they do not need to stress or worry about anything except for inviting the children. The rest of the planning is in the hands of Saks of Sweets and Saks leads every party, along with one helper.

“We set up the individual baking stations, and the children will learn to roll out the Saks of Sweets shortbread cookie dough,” said Saks. “They will then choose from a wide variety of cookie cutters to create their cookies.

“While the cookies are in the oven, the children will decorate and personalize their baking aprons. Lastly, they will have a wide range of icing colours and sprinkles to decorate their unique creations. As an extra bonus, the take-home box for the cookies and the personalized aprons double as a loot bag.”

Prospective clients only need to provide a table for the rolling and decorating, and a working oven for the baking. Some parents like to provide a meal for the children, like ordering in pizza.

photo - Saks of Sweets brings the party to your children — Saks of Sweets brings the party to your children. *(photo from Saks of Sweets)*

For those not wanting to have the party in their own home, Saks of Sweets partners with the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver, so that people can rent the centre’s party room for the birthday celebration.

“Right now, I am doing cookie cutting and decorating, but I’d like to move more into baking other delicious things, such as cakes, cupcakes, pies and more,” said Saks. “This expansion will happen soon, when the time is right.

“When I started this business, my hope was to channel my passions into throwing a creative birthday party that makes both the children and parents happy. I wasn’t overly concerned about the business scalability or strategy, because I didn’t want to get bogged down in the details or dissuade myself from taking that first step.

“From that perspective, my hopes have been met. Each party has been extremely well received by the parents, and the children are always smiling. My only new hope is that I can throw these more often.”

Saks of Sweets is Vancouver’s only in-house baking birthday party. The business concept is all about convenience. It is meant to be stress-free for parents, so they can also enjoy their child’s party.

Saks of Sweets can accommodate most dietary restrictions or allergies and works with clients to tailor the party to any needs or wishes. “For example, in the past, I’ve had to ensure all ingredients are kosher … and I can do parties for families that are kosher,” said Saks. “Furthermore, the ingredients and the cookies are all nut-free. However, they may contain traces of nuts, due to baking utensils that may have touched nuts in the past.”

The cost for a Saks of Sweets party for 10 to 12 children is $300, and each additional child after 12 is $22. For more information, visit saksofsweets.ca.

Rebeca Kuropatwa is a Winnipeg freelance writer.