cooking

Pesach sweets ’n’ side dishes

Cauliflower rice, ready to serve. (photo from cookingclassy.com)

With Passover approaching, the meal planning has begun. Looking into my Passover folder for something new to share, I found a few side dishes – and many desserts. I hope you are able to try some of them out, and that you enjoy the ones you do. Chag Pesach sameach!

CAULIFLOWER RICE
(From foodnetwork.com. Makes 4 servings.)

1 large cauliflower separated into 1-inch florets
3 tbsp olive oil
1 finely diced medium onion
1 tsp salt
2 tbsp finely chopped fresh parsley leaves
juice of half a lemon

Trim cauliflower florets, cutting away as much stem as possible. In three batches, break up florets into a food processor and pulse until mixture resembles couscous.
Heat oil in a large frying pan. Add onion and stir to coat. Continue cooking, stirring frequently, until onions are golden brown at the edges and have softened, about eight minutes.
Add cauliflower and stir. Add salt and continue to cook and stir three to five minutes, until cauliflower has softened. Spoon into a large serving bowl. Garnish with parsley, sprinkle with lemon juice, salt to taste. Serve warm.

LEEK PATTIES
(From the Jerusalem Post, April 2015. Makes 12 servings.)

2.2 pounds leeks
1 large, peeled boiling potato
3 large beaten eggs
3 tbsp matzah meal
salt and pepper to taste
oil

Wash leeks carefully, slicing then vertically to remove all the grit. Dice the white base and the palest green part of the leaves.
Place water and salt in a saucepan and bring to a boil. Add leeks and cook for five minutes then drain.
Place water in a saucepan and bring to a boil. Add potato and cook until it is soft. Drain.
Place potato and leeks in a processor and blend. Add eggs, matzah meal, salt and pepper. Remove to a bowl and form into patties.
Pour oil into a frying pan and heat. Spoon patties into the oil and fry until golden brown on each side. Drain on paper towels and serve immediately.

PASSOVER SQUASH PUDDING
(From Annice Grinberg. Makes 6 servings.)

2 pounds peeled summer squash
2 peeled carrots
1 1/2 cups matzah farfel or broken matzot
1/4 cup oil
3 eggs, separated
salt to taste

Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease a casserole or baking dish.
Heat oil in a frying pan. Add farfel or broken matzot and brown.
Place squash and carrots in a saucepan with water, cook until soft. Drain and mash. Add farfel or browned matzot, salt and egg yolks.
Beat whites in a bowl until stiff. Fold into vegetable mixture.
Spoon into a greased casserole or baking dish and bake for one hour, until golden.

MOM’S CREAM PUFF BUNS
(Makes 9-12 servings.)

2/3 cup water
1/3 cup oil
1/4 tsp salt
1 tbsp sugar
3 eggs
1 cup matzah meal

Preheat oven to 350°F. Spray a cookie sheet with Passover vegetable spray.
Place water, oil, salt and sugar in a saucepan. Bring to a boil.
Add matzah meal and one egg at a time. Blend well.
Spoon dough in pieces on a cookie sheet. Bake for 30 minutes.
When cool, cut a little off top of each. Fill with a favourite custard.

ALMOND CAKE WITH CITRUS SYRUP
(From Chef Peter Hoffman, in Food & Wine. Makes 6 servings.)

citrus syrup:
2 1/2 tbsp sugar
2 tbsp fresh lemon juice
finely grated zest of half a large lemon

cake:
1 1/2 tsp oil
1 tbsp matzah meal
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup ground almonds
1/4 cup finely chopped blanched almonds
finely grated zest of half a large lemon
4 eggs, separated
confectioners sugar (optional)

Combine sugar, lemon juice and lemon zest with 1/4 cup water. Bring to a boil, stirring to dissolve sugar. Simmer over moderately low heat for two minutes. Remove from heat.
Preheat oven to 325°F. Oil a springform pan bottom and sides, and line bottom with parchment paper. Oil the paper. Evenly coat bottom and sides with matzah meal. Refrigerate the pan.
With a wooden spoon in a large bowl, mix sugar, almonds, lemon zest and egg yolks.
In another bowl, whisk egg whites until stiff peaks form. Stir one-quarter into almond mixture. Gently fold in remaining egg whites in three additions.
Pour mixture into prepared pan and bake on lowest shelf of oven for one hour or until cake tester inserted into the centre comes out dry. Cool for 10 minutes. Run a knife around the edge of the cake, remove pan sides and invert cake onto wire rack. Peel off parchment and let cake cool.
Reheat and strain syrup. Transfer cake to a plate and prick all over with a fork. Pour syrup over cake and let sit at room temperature for at least three hours or overnight. Sift confectioners sugar over cake (optional).

MIRIAM’S PAREVE ICE CREAM

2 10-ounce packages frozen fruit, slightly thawed (strawberries work very well)
4 egg yolks
6 egg whites
1 cup sugar (if using frozen fruit with added sugar, decrease this amount)

In a bowl, beat egg yolks. Add fruit.
In a second bowl, beat egg whites until peaks are formed, gradually adding sugar.
Gently add fruit and yolks to whites. Place in a container and freeze. Stir once or twice to keep fruit from settling to the bottom.

PASSOVER SORBET

4 cups strawberries or other fruit
1/2 cup sugar
1 tbsp lemon juice
1 egg white

Place strawberries or fruit, sugar and lemon juice in a food processor and process until mixed. Place in a container.
Whip egg white in a bowl. Add to fruit. Spoon into a container and freeze.

Sybil Kaplan is a journalist, author, editor/compiler of 10 kosher cookbooks and a food writer living in Jerusalem. She leads English-language Shuk Walks in Machane Yehuda and writes restaurant features for janglo.net.

May the force be with you

In my world, you can never have enough lamb. Or, to be more specific, lamb shanks. It used to be what I called “fancy food,” for which I splurged only on special occasions, like New Year’s Eve, or a birthday ending in zero. But since the pandemic started, up is down and right is left, and every day that you’re healthy is a day that’s meant to be celebrated. Goodness knows we could all use a little splurging. So, hubby Harvey sold a kidney and bought five pounds of lamb shanks. Lest you think we’re complete chazers, let me add that we had another couple over for dinner. For the first time in two-and-a-half years.

After two years of strict isolation and adherence to Dr. Bonnie Henry’s pandemic protocols, it was a wondrous event, to be sitting less than six feet away from two close friends, masks discarded, acting as though we did this every day. There wasn’t a shred of anxiety anywhere to be seen, and it just felt so normal. To say I felt ridiculously elated and grateful at the same time would not be an exaggeration. It was pure joy. I wondered why we hadn’t done it sooner. And then I remembered … that pesky pandemic. Oh, and my COVID anxiety, which can often be seen from space.

But back to the main event. The lamb. I’d sent Harvey to the butcher to pick up the lamb and, when he returned home, he handed me the bag-o-meat. Which weighed nearly as much as me. I asked him: “So did they throw in a ram for free?” To which he replied: “I told them I wanted the biggest lamb shanks they had.” Long story short, each shank was the size of a small country. Maybe slightly bigger. All of a sudden, my four hours of estimated cooking time was looking more like half a day. Luckily, I’m an early riser.

I hauled out my biggest roaster, proceeded to dirty every fry pan, pot and utensil in the apartment – we’re talking squeezers, mincers, graters, peelers, a multitude of various-sized knives, cutting boards and a healthy shot of Scotch (just kidding about the Scotch, but after it was all said and done, I sure could’ve used a glass) – and had at it.

The recipe, which Harvey found on the internet, is called Tom Valenti’s Lamb Shanks, and it’s spectacular! I won’t bore you with the details – Google it. Never mind that it calls for a bottle of wine, four cups of broth and a whole whack of other stuff. When it was all assembled, I couldn’t even lift the roaster, never mind take it in and out of the oven every 30 minutes for the next five hours. I happily handed over the reins to Harvey to do the heavy lifting. While I sat around and ate bonbons. Not.

All modesty aside, the lamb shanks were a huge hit. But, I was left with cups and cups of gorgeous, rich, winey braising liquid, flavoured with onions, carrots, celery, garlic and thyme, to name just a few of the players. I actually considered drinking it. Is that wrong? Of course, the thyme sprigs might get caught in my teeth.

So, I did what any self-respecting 21st-century cook with a few gallons of leftover braising liquid would do – I Googled it. Which is where I found an article by Mackenzie Stratton in The Spruce Eats, called “What to do with leftover braising liquid.” Imagine that. I learned many things, like the fact that chefs often refer to braising liquid as “liquid gold” because of its ability to transform whatever it touches into something fabulous.

I know some of you will wonder why I bothered keeping the seemingly useless flotsam and jetsam of a meal. It’s because I hate throwing stuff out that I could possibly use. Operative word here is “possibly.” My father, alav ha-shalom, always used to rib me about how thrifty I am. He’s right. I hate to waste food and, if I can repurpose it, why the heck not? When I told Harvey my plans for the braising liquid, he informed me that the army used to call that a “force multiplier.” May the force be with you, too.

If Mackenzie Stratton is to be believed, you can elevate just about any dish with leftover braising “gold.” But first you have to let the “gold” cool overnight in the fridge, then skim off the fat from the top. You’ll be left with a lovely (?) gelatinous bowl of the aforementioned “gold.” Next step requires you to sacrifice your ice cube trays. Fill each one with a big glob of “gold,” freeze them, and then put the nuggets in a Ziploc baggie or in small containers for future use. This is where the “gold” comes in, because at $16 to $18 a bottle for the wine and another $60 for the lamb and the rest of the ingredients, it’s not something you relish throwing down the sink once everyone’s had a good burp.

What all can you do with these little brown, gelatinous gems? You can incorporate them into other recipes, like soups, pasta or grain dishes; use them to poach chicken or tougher cuts of meat; or put them in stews. You can also use them as the supreme weapon of decadence: boil potatoes in the thawed braising liquid, then turn them into the ultimate side of mashed potatoes. I have no words. The drool is dribbling down my chin.

I usually like to include a photo of my culinary creations/discoveries and, well, not to be crass or anything, but Harvey says these “gold” blobs look like something people pick up with those little green baggies on their hand. Need I say more? Now just try and un-see that visual.

Like the thrifty Accidental Balabusta that I am, you might just be on the receiving end of my leftover braising “gold” next time you come for dinner. But you won’t know it. To paraphrase John F. Kennedy: ask not what your lamb shanks can do for you – ask what you can do for your lamb shanks.

Once again, you’re welcome. Bon appetit!

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.

The joys of parchment paper

Greek sheet pan chicken, using a recipe from the website Downshiftology. (photo by Shelley Civkin)

I know it’s pretty laughable that I only discovered parchment paper a few years ago, but there’s always someone late to the party. Parchment paper is your friend, and it’s so ridiculously versatile and handy, I can’t believe I baked without it for all these years! (Although, having been single until I was 53, I must admit to not having baked much in those years.) I even turned my husband Harvey onto it. Now he uses parchment paper for everything. I caught him the other day trying to make a fruit salad on parchment paper. We buy the stuff by the truckload now. It saves on clean up, eliminates the possibility of burned pans, and withstands high heat. Plus, it contains some sort of magic that results in perfect meals every time. Seriously, I haven’t had a fail since I became a parchment paper convert. I know. Crazy, right?

My latest foray into culinary exploration using parchment paper was Greek sheet pan chicken. Harvey tried the recipe first, and it scored a 10/10. Weeks later, he asked me if I wanted to make it and, quite frankly, I couldn’t say no. After all, he’s been making me pancakes for breakfast three times a week, so I was hardly in a position to negotiate. I was just worried that I wouldn’t be able to replicate it. But I sucked it up, donned my Disclosure Diner apron and got on with it. Without a word of a lie, this recipe produces the most juicy, harmonious flavours I’ve had in eons. And there was virtually no clean up – winner, winner chicken dinner.

The recipe is from the website Downshiftology, and it’s by Lisa Bryan. Thank you, Lisa. It’s a wee bit labour-intensive, with all the chopping, mincing, dicing and marinating, but what isn’t time-consuming these days? Caveat: the original recipe calls for feta cheese, but since I don’t mix meat and milk, I omit that. Believe me when I tell you that there’s plenty of salt in this recipe already. Feta compli! Just cook up a side of rice, orzo, quinoa or bowtie pasta and you’re set. Oh, and maybe whip up a salad if you’re feeling inspired.

Now, I know that lots of people prefer the leaner white chicken meat, but thighs are just more tender and moist. You can be the judge, but I can’t be responsible for the cooking time for chicken breasts, so you’re on your own there.

Give this recipe a go, and tell me if this isn’t Mediterranean cooking at its best. I generally have a rule to not use recipes that call for more than five or six ingredients, but I made an exception here, and it paid off in spades.

GREEK SHEET PAN CHICKEN

1/2 cup olive oil
juice of 1 1/2 lemons (about 3 tbsp)
4 garlic cloves, minced
2 tsp dried oregano
1 tsp dried thyme
1 tsp Dijon mustard
1 tsp kosher salt
1/2 tsp ground black pepper
6 chicken thighs, bone-in, skin-on
1 medium zucchini, halved lengthwise and sliced
1 yellow bell pepper, chopped into 1-inch pieces
1 red bell pepper, chopped into 1-inch pieces
1/2 large red onion, thinly sliced
1 pint cherry or grape tomatoes
1/2 cup kalamata olives, pitted (more, if you love olives)
1/4 cup feta cheese (optional)
2 tbsp finely chopped fresh parsley

Preheat oven to 425°F. In a small bowl, whisk together the oil, lemon juice, garlic, oregano, thyme, Dijon mustard, salt and pepper.
Put chicken thighs in a bowl (or plastic bag) and pour two-thirds of the marinade on top. Then toss the chicken around in the marinade to make sure it’s well coated. Marinate the chicken for 15 minutes or more.
While the chicken is marinating, put a piece of parchment paper on a baking sheet. Spread the zucchini, bell peppers, red onion and tomatoes onto the sheet and drizzle the remaining marinade on top. Toss together to coat the vegetables.
Add the chicken thighs to the baking sheet and nestle the veggies around them. Bake for 30 minutes.
Remove the baking sheet from the oven, add the olives (and feta, if you’re using it) and then put it back in the oven for another 10 to 15 minutes, or until the vegetables are soft and the chicken is cooked through. You can always turn on the broiler for a minute or two at the end if you like the skin crispy.
Sprinkle the chicken and vegetables with finely chopped fresh parsley before serving.

Not only does this dish look gorgeous, but it’s got deep, rich flavour and the recipe is pretty easy to follow. Of course, if you’re serving it to company, it’ll take a bit of manoeuvring to transfer it to a platter because there are so many moving parts. But it’s a pandemic, so who’s having company over for dinner anyway?

Sometimes, I think to myself: do I really want to bother with all this dicing and chopping and slicing? Operative word: sometimes. This is a treat-yourself-to-a-sumptuous-dinner-and-stop-being-so-lazy kind of meal. Like my dad used to say: you’re the most important guest in your own home. Go nuts. Cook for looks. And taste. Like so many different meals, this one is just as good if not better the next day, since the flavours seem to marry overnight.

As for a pre-dinner treat, why not aim for easy but yummy. If you want to bump up the fanciness quotient a notch, make some toast points (crusts cut off), smear on some mayonnaise or egg mix, and top with caviar. I buy the inexpensive black lumpfish caviar for special occasions and it’s delish. It’ll impress the heck out of your partner, your guests, even yourself. And, you know what? You deserve it! Why should caviar be reserved just for New Year’s Eve or engagement parties? Those poor misunderstood fish roe – they deserve to be showcased all year round. If I weren’t afraid of all the judging that might accompany it, I’d eat caviar every day.

Another caveat: don’t eat this meal before you go for a blood test, because your sodium will be off the charts.

Comfort food for dark times

If the thought of cooking one more boring meal is just too daunting, Google your heart out – there are gazillions of cookbooks out there.

The days are short and dark and all I seem to want to do right now is stuff my face with comfort food. Some days that manifests as peanut butter and banana sandwiches, and some days it looks like pot roast and mashed potatoes. I rarely crave a salad or a stick of celery in this chilly, wet weather. Mind you, I have been tempted (and given into) a huge piece of pumpkin pie. That’s a daily serving of vegetables, right? I’m all about the carbs at the moment. Plus, peanut butter makes my coat nice and shiny. Or so says hubby Harvey.

Like a bear, I’m looking to bulk up for my winter hibernation. Although, when you think about it, we’ve been living through almost a two-year hibernation. It’s called COVID-19. I don’t know anyone who hasn’t found some comfort in over-indulging during this pandemic. Whether the target of our ill-placed attention is food, booze or online shopping, we’ve all been guilty of overdoing it in some way or other. Oh, I forgot to include Netflix, Prime Video and Crave. I do crave my Crave. I don’t know how many hours of my life I’ve given over to this pap. Not that I’m bragging. Actually, I’m kind of embarrassed by it, but, in a way, it’s keeping me sane because it lets me focus on something other than COVID. But enough about the C-word.

My guilty pleasure is doughy, savoury foods, packed with calories. That’s where the Perogy Toss comes in. I got this recipe decades ago from the catering company at Richmond City Hall’s cafeteria, where I often ate lunch during my working days. The recipe is still a winner. Add a salad and you’ve got dinner. Add a glass or two of wine and you’ve got a date.

PEROGY TOSS

1-kg package frozen potato perogies
4 tbsp sundried tomato oil (or olive oil)
3/4 cup minced onion
1 tbsp minced garlic
2 tbsp minced black olives
12 tbsp (3/4 cup) minced and drained sundried tomatoes
4 tbsp minced capers
1 1/2-oz (14-gram) package fresh basil, chopped
light sour cream

Boil salted water in a large pot. Add frozen perogies and boil for four to five minutes (or whatever the directions say). Drain well. Rinse with hot water and drain again. Return perogies to the pot.

In a frying pan, heat the sundried tomato oil (or olive oil) until hot. Add onion and garlic and sauté until onion is soft and golden. Add olives, sundried tomatoes and capers. Stir.

When heated through, add to the cooked perogies in the pot. Heat on low for about one minute, tossing to fully coat the perogies. Add the basil and serve at once. Put sour cream on top, if desired – and who wouldn’t desire that?

Just in case this recipe doesn’t give you your year’s allotment of salt, here’s another one that will not only satisfy your craving for savoury, but holds its own as an appetizer served with pita or crackers. Some of you might be put off by the weird orange shade of this dip, but I’m sure you’ll get past that. If you’re a lazy cook like me, you’ll be happy to know that the only kitchen appliance you’ll need is a food processor.

RED PEPPER & FETA DIP

3 red bell peppers
6 oz feta cheese
2 tbsp olive oil
2 tbsp pine nuts

Cut in half and seed three red bell peppers. Place on a broiling pan, skin side up, and broil until skin is charred and blistered, turning over several times. This is what creates that smoky flavour.

Remove the skin from the peppers – some say sealing them in a brown paper bag while they’re cooling for five to 10 minutes creates steam and makes them easier to peel.

Once peeled, put the peppers in a food processor and add the feta cheese, olive oil and pine nuts. Blend till it’s nice and smooth.

Chill before serving. (I mean the dip, but you could also chill yourself with a glass or two of your favourite alcoholic beverage and a bag of chips.)

Serve with pita wedges or crackers. And don’t even think of substituting a different kind of nut. It’s just wrong. It’s got to be pine nuts.

I’ve made this dip for company loads of times and everyone likes it. It’s one of those go-to, quick-as-can-be appies that’s pretty much foolproof. Of course, your guests have to have a taste for feta cheese and pine nuts, but don’t most of us? (Maybe have an EpiPen ready just in case.) It’s definitely got a bit of an unusual flavour, but in a good way. It’s worth a try, if only to expand your repertoire … says the woman who ate the same California roll and agedashi tofu three or four times a week when she was single. However, I’ve since seen the error of my ways.

As you can tell, I’m all about the easy. And, if it tastes good too, score a win. I’ve never been one to fuss about food because it all gets eaten in a matter of minutes anyway, so why bother? I know, I know. What kind of an attitude is that for an accidental balabusta? But, like Popeye said, “I yam what I yam.”

As time wears on with this pandemic, I’m going to need to get more creative with my culinary adventures. I’ve fallen into the chicken, fish, meat, repeat, habit, and it’s getting old. I sure miss going out to restaurants on a regular basis. With the majority of us Canadians being doubly vaccinated, I think we’re moving in the right direction with this pandemic and, hopefully, it won’t be long before we embark on our “new normal.” G-d-willing, it will be an even better, more beautiful “normal.”

In the meantime, if the thought of cooking one more boring meal is just too daunting, get out your mother’s 1970s National Council of Jewish Women cookbook, Google your heart out or visit a bookstore near you, and tackle some new recipes. You might just discover your new favourites. Or maybe try a recipe swap with your close friends. You never know what tricks they might have up their sleeves. Caveat: choose friends whose culinary realm most resembles yours; otherwise, you may find yourself spending hours in the kitchen making some exotic breakfast, when all you really wanted was a new recipe for French toast.

Wishing you well in your hibernation. Don’t forget to turn the heat down, suspend newspaper delivery and stock up on toilet paper. I know, I know – newspaper? (Present company excepted, of course, and the JI is taking the month off, as well.)

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.

Beautiful Persian cookbook

While my Barbari bread (above) looked nothing like the photo from the book (below), as my dough was too wet to allow for the requisite creation of vertical ridges, it tasted really good nonetheless. (photo by Cynthia Ramsay)

I was very excited to try out Persian Delicacies: Jewish Foods for Special Occasions by Angela Cohan. Living on the North Shore, I have met several people whose heritage is Iranian, though not Jewish, and I’ve eaten Persian food, but never made it. The idea that I could make my own “delicacies” was enticing.

Cohan is a Los Angeles-based writer and editor, so it’s no wonder that her cookbook reads well and looks fabulous. The layout is pretty and logical. The colour photos are beautiful. This is a great gift for a seasoned cook, or a cook that’s willing to have a few misadventures and so-so meals before they get the hang of things.

photo - Barbara bread as it’s supposed to look — Barbara bread as it’s supposed to look. *(photo from Persian Delicacies)*

In the preface, Cohan, who moved to the United States with her family in 1979, writes, “I was inspired to compile the specialty recipes of my mother, my late grandmothers, and other family members and friends in this cookbook. This book is as much theirs as it is mine. It is a tribute to my heritage as a Persian woman as well as an evolution of recipes since living and cooking in the United States for the past three decades.”

I remember watching my grandmother cooking. She seemed to randomly toss in this, shake in that. It appeared to the uneducated eye that measurements were not measured at all. I get the feeling that this is somewhat the case with this cookbook. Guesstimates in many cases rather than meticulously precise cups, teaspoons, etc. And the assumption that one knows how long to knead dough, for example.

The recipes I tried – dolmeh (stuffed peppers), Barbari bread and sesame brittle – seemed easy enough. I chose them because I was on a deadline and had all the ingredients at hand. I will continue to explore this cookbook, as my first foray was promising but not that successful, in part because, instead of adapting the measures, I decided to follow the instructions come what may. So, even though I knew that my pepper stuffing was too bland, my dough was too sticky and my brittle too bendy, I made them as per the recipes. Everything was edible but nothing was delicious. Next time, I will use, respectively, another pinch of salt or another clove of garlic, more flour (or less water) and less honey. I can’t wait to try my hand at making kuku seeb zamini(potato frittata), tahdig (crispy rice), turmeric chicken, lavash bread and more.

Each recipe in Persian Delicacies comes with a brief description, either of what it is, from where or whom it came, and other useful tidbits. At the end of the book, there is some information on special occasions, with the examples of Norouz, the start of the Persian New Year, and Shabbat, and traditions associated with them, in particular as they relate to foods. A glossary of many of the ingredients and their health benefits is an interesting component.

DOLMEH
(serves 3)

3 or 4 bell peppers
1/4 cup olive oil
1 cup diced yellow onion
1/2 cup scallions, chopped
2 cloves garlic, peeled and ﬁnely chopped or minced
1 cup quinoa, cooked
1/2 cup fresh dill, ﬁnely chopped
1/2 cup fresh tarragon or parsley, ﬁnely chopped
1 tsp ground cinnamon (optional)
salt and pepper to taste

Preheat the oven to 350°F.
Cut the top of the bell peppers and remove the seeds and veins.
Heat the oil in a skillet or a saucepan. Add the onions, scallions, and garlic and cook until soft, about four minutes.
Add the quinoa, dill and tarragon and season with salt and pepper. Remove from heat.
Spoon the quinoa mixture into the peppers. Place the stuffed peppers on a baking tray or baking dish and bake for 45 minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste. Top with chopped parsley and cinnamon (optional).

BARBARI BREAD
(serves 4)

1 1/2 cups warm water
1/2 tsp active dry yeast
3 cups all-purpose ﬂour plus 1 tbsp additional flour
1 tsp salt
3 tbsp water
1/4 cup sesame seeds

Add the yeast to the warm water, stir, and set aside.
In a large bowl, combine the flour and salt. Add the yeast mixture. Knead the dough on a flat surface.
Place the dough in a bowl and cover with plastic wrap. Let it rise for an hour.
Preheat the oven to 325°F.
In a small saucepan, stir one tablespoon flour and three tablespoons water over a medium-low heat.
Uncover the risen dough, cut into four pieces, and roll out in an oval shape using a rolling pin.
Place the dough on a cookie sheet. Using your finger or a small knife, create vertical ridges on the dough. Brush with the flour and water mixture. Sprinkle with sesame seeds.
Bake for 25 to 30 minutes.

Savoury, sweet and simple

Cottage cheese muffins à la Accidental Balabusta, but double the size. (photo by Cynthia Ramsay)

Looking for a couple of easy recipes to add to your repertoire? But you’re not quite sure what to try? Because sometimes you want savoury. Sometimes you want sweet. But what if you want both? I’ve got just the answer – but it doesn’t come in the form of one recipe. It comes in two. One’s a side dish and one’s a snack or breakfast food. Both punch above their weight, that’s for sure.

With very few exceptions I have neither the focus nor the patience to embark on complicated recipes that call for exotic ingredients and specialty cookware. If I can’t pronounce it and it’s not available at my local Safeway or Superstore, it ain’t happening. (Except for those lamb shanks that I made for Rosh Hashanah, which did call for loads of ingredients and which were, to use my hubby’s words: “The best lamb I’ve ever eaten!” Sorry … I just had a modesty bypass.)

Maybe I’m not the most adventurous eater/cook in the world but I never go hungry. My father, alav hashalom, used to say that I’d eat out of a puddle if push came to shove. I prefer to describe it as having simple tastes.

Good thing my husband didn’t marry me for my cooking. Although it has improved significantly since we got married 12 years ago. When we first met, my idea of dinner was a California roll and Agedashi tofu takeout. We used to eat out at restaurants maybe three or four times a week during the honeymoon phase, i.e. the first four years of our marriage. I kept telling him I knew how to cook; I just chose not to activate that skill. And what do you know. He believed me.

But I digress. Back to the savoury recipe I was going to tell you about. It’s an eggplant side dish or chunky dip and is a perfect accompaniment to just about any meal, be it meat, chicken, vegetarian or fish. It’s a bit time-consuming, but what eggplant recipe isn’t, with all that peeling, slicing and dicing? I’m not a big fan of spicy food so you can up the garlic content as you see fit. I find it’s got just that right combination of salty, spicy, sweet and tart, without being heavy or overpowering. I call it Merle’s Eggplant, after my sister’s friend who gave us the recipe decades ago. Thank you, Merle.

MERLE’S EGGPLANT

1 diced onion
1 large or 2 medium-size eggplants, peeled and cubed
2-3 cloves garlic, minced
14 oz (398 ml) can tomato sauce
a squeeze or two of lemon juice
1-2 tbsp brown sugar

Peel and cube eggplant and set aside.
Fry diced onion in olive oil until lightly browned.
Add eggplant to onions and fry, alternating covered and uncovered, until eggplant is opaque.
Add minced garlic, tomato sauce, lemon juice and brown sugar. Cook on low heat for about one hour, covered.
Refrigerate then serve. Some people like to serve it hot, but I prefer it cold, because I find that the flavours meld even more when it’s been refrigerated. But that’s your call. Try it both ways.

* * *

As for the sweet recipe – cottage cheese muffins – well, it’s a favourite in our home. It’s one of those comfort foods that soothe just about any ailment, from fatigue to sore feet. Aside from being healthy (think protein), they’re filling and super-fast to make, plus it’s one of those recipes that you can make blindfolded with both hands tied behind your back. Eat them hot, eat them cold, eat them with jam, eat them plain.

The only people that won’t like these muffins are the lactose-intolerant. And that can be remedied. I recently found lactose-free cottage cheese at the local supermarket. It’s slightly more expensive, but worth it if you like dairy but not the side effects that can go with it. Knock yourself out with these fluffy, light, healthy muffins. I’ve seen all sorts of variations on this recipe, using cheddar cheese, whole wheat flour, sour cream, etc., but none of them quite matches the simplicity and yumminess of this one.

I would strongly suggest doubling the recipe, since this recipe only makes 12 small muffins. Or just eat several at one go, and explain to shocked onlookers that they’re mini-muffins. Which they’re not, but, never mind. Just look at it as muffin-envy.

COTTAGE CHEESE MUFFINS

1 1/2 cups cottage cheese
2 tbsp sugar
1/2 cup melted butter or margarine
2 tsp baking powder
2 eggs
a pinch of salt
1 cup flour

Preheat oven to 400°F.
Mix all ingredients by hand. Don’t be surprised if the batter is quite thick.
Grease muffin tins or use paper muffin liners. Distribute batter evenly between the 12 muffin cups.
Bake for about 20 minutes or until golden brown on top. They’re ready when a toothpick inserted in the centre comes out clean.
Eat plain or topped with yogurt, sour cream, berries, jam or whatever. They reheat well in the microwave. But, if there are more than two people living in your home, the muffins probably won’t make it till the next day. They may sound too good and too easy to be true, but I’m here to tell you, they’re the real deal. Sometimes, the most basic recipes are the star of the show. Or at least the crowd-pleasers.

* * *

It’s not the number of ingredients or the sophistication of technique that make a recipe sing. It’s the flavour, plain and simple. So, do yourself a favour and try out these two recipes. Tell them the Accidental Balabusta sent you.

Brisket – a Jewish tradition!

Brisket is the boneless meat on the lower chest of beef or veal. In traditional Jewish cooking, it is most often braised as a pot roast, especially as a holiday main course. For reasons of economics and kashrut, it was historically one of the more popular cuts of beef among Ashkenazi Jews.

Brisket is also the most popular cut for corned beef, which can be further spiced and smoked to make pastrami. In the 1900s, it appeared on Jewish deli menus, particularly in Texas, where the butchers, who emigrated from Germany and Czechoslovakia, had trouble selling the slow-cooking cut and created a way to dry smoke it and preserve it.

Brisket is one of the primal cuts of beef, though the precise definition of the cut differs internationally. The brisket muscles include the superficial and deep pectorals. As cattle do not have collarbones, these muscles support about 60% of the body weight of standing or moving cattle. This requires a significant amount of connective tissue, so the resulting meat must be cooked correctly to tenderize it.

The term brisket is derived from the Middle English brusket, which comes from the earlier Old Norse brjósk, meaning cartilage. The cut overlies the sternum, ribs and connecting cartilages.

Author and food writer Stephanie Pierson wrote an homage to this cut of beef: The Brisket Book: Love Story with Recipes was published in 2011.

CRANBERRY-ONION CHANUKAH BRISKET
(This is Justin Chapple’s recipe from Food & Wine. It makes 8-10 servings.)

photo - Justin Chapple’s Cranberry-Onion Chanukah Brisket — Justin Chapple’s Cranberry-Onion Chanukah Brisket. *(photo by Justin Walker)*

8 cups fresh or thawed frozen cranberries
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 1/2-inch lemon peel strip
3 tbsp fresh lemon juice
salt and pepper to taste
2 1-ounce envelopes kosher pareve onion soup mix
1 7-pound trimmed beef brisket

The day before serving:

Preheat oven to 325°F. Layer two sheets foil in a large roasting pan, letting foil hang over eight inches past each end. Repeat with two additional sheets of foil to form an X. Top with a sheet of parchment paper.
In a saucepan, combine cranberries, sugar, lemon peel strip and lemon juice. Cook, crushing cranberries with a wooden spoon until mixture thickens, 10-14 minutes.
Remove from heat and stir in onion soup mix. Let cool for 15 minutes.
Spread a quarter of cranberry sauce on parchment. Place brisket fat side up. Spread remaining cranberry sauce over it, top with parchment and wrap foil around brisket. Place in oven for three to three-and-a-half hours. Uncover. Let cool one-and-a-half hours, then cover and refrigerate for at least eight hours.

The day of serving:

Preheat oven to 325°F. Uncover brisket. Discard any fat. Scrape off cranberry sauce and place in a bowl.
Slice brisket on carving board. Arrange in ovenproof dish. Spoon cranberry sauce over top, cover and bake 45 minutes to one hour.

BEER-BRAISED BRISKET WITH ROOT VEGETABLES
(This recipe comes from Ian Knauer, former Gourmet Magazine editor, chef, food writer and owner of the Farm Cooking School. It makes 4-6 servings.)

photo - Ian Knauer’s Beer-Braised Brisket with Root Vegetables — Ian Knauer’s Beer-Braised Brisket with Root Vegetables. *(photo by Ian Knauer)*

1 2.5-to-3-pound brisket
2 tbsp olive oil
1 chopped medium onion
5 ounces sliced shiitake mushroom tops
3 finely chopped garlic cloves
3 large sliced carrots
3 sliced parsnips
1 rutabaga, peeled and cut into wedges
12 ounces beer of your choice
2 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
2 cups chicken stock
2 tbsp flour
1 tbsp dill

Heat oil in a pot. Sear the brisket three to four minutes, turn, and continue searing another three to four minutes. Transfer to a plate.
Stir onion, mushrooms and garlic into pot. Cook, stirring occasionally, for six minutes. Place brisket and juices back in pot.
Stir in carrots, parsnips, rutabaga, beer, Worcestershire sauce and stock. Cover and simmer six hours, until meat is tender.
In the meantime, stir flour and two tablespoons cold water in a bowl then whisk into the pot. Simmer until sauce thickens, about 10 minutes. Place on plate, sprinkle with dill and slice.

Sybil Kaplan is a journalist, editor of nine kosher cookbooks (working on a 10th) and a food writer living in Jerusalem. She leads English-language Shuk Walks in Machane Yehuda.

Minestrone warms the soul

(photo from flickr.com/photos/veganfeast)

Minestrone came about as early as the second century BCE, when Rome conquered Italy and new vegetables flooded the market. It was known as an Italian peasant’s dish or poor man’s soup. Originally, it contained onion, garlic, celery, tomatoes and carrots – pasta seems to have been a later addition.

MY MINESTRONE
(6-8 servings)

2 tbsp margarine
3/4 cup chopped onions
2 minced garlic cloves
1 chopped leek
1/4 cup chopped celery
1/2 cup chopped carrots
2 chopped turnips
1 1/2 cups chopped zucchini
1 1/2 cups chopped cabbage
1 cup chopped potatoes
2 tbsp beef soup bouillon
1 cup chickpeas
1 cup chopped tomatoes
8 cups water
2 tbsp tomato paste
salt and pepper to taste
2 tbsp chopped parsley
1/2 tsp basil
1/2 tsp oregano
1 chopped bay leaf
1/4 tsp marjoram
1/2 cup small pasta
Parmesan cheese (optional)

In a large soup pot, heat margarine. Sauté onions, garlic and leek.
Add vegetables, water and spices but not pasta. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer one hour.
Add pasta and cook 15 minutes. Ladle into soup bowls and add the cheese.

ROOT VEGETABLE MINESTRONE
(Adapted from a Food & Wine recipe, it makes 6 servings.)

1/4 cup olive oil
1 finely chopped onion
1 minced garlic clove
1 sprig rosemary
2 sliced carrots
2 sliced parsnips
3 broccoli stems or chopped kohlrabi
3 cups cubed peeled, cut butternut squash
6 cups pareve chicken bouillon
salt and pepper to taste
1/2 cup angel hair pasta broken into 1-inch pieces
1/2 cup grated cheese

In a soup pot, heat two tablespoons olive oil. Add onion, garlic and rosemary and cook until onion is soft.
Add carrots, parsnips, broccoli or kohlrabi and squash and cook for one minute. Add bouillon, salt and pepper and cook about 15 minutes.
In a frying pan, heat the remaining two tablespoons olive oil. Add pasta and cook, stirring frequently, about four minutes.
Add pasta to soup. Cook until tender, five to six minutes. Discard rosemary. Stir cheese into soup and serve.

Sybil Kaplan is a journalist, editor of nine kosher cookbooks (working on a 10th) and a food writer living in Jerusalem. She leads English-language Shuk Walks in Machane Yehuda.

A time for diversity training

We’re in the month of Heshvan on the Jewish calendar. Some people call it Mar-Heshvan or Marcheshvan. (Since this is transliteration, it can be spelled either “ch” or “h.”) It’s called mar, or bitter, because, aside from Shabbat, there are no Jewish holidays during this month.

Of course, as Canadians, we had Thanksgiving in there. However, after a long stretch of Jewish holidays, many Jewish people, myself included, quite like the idea of a month off from them. Finally, I have time to start another big project. A relatively quiet Jewish month leaves more time to do “regular” work, learning and making changes.

As a kid, I was very active in my Reform congregation. I learned to lead services and read Torah and Haftarah, and did it without hesitation after becoming a bat mitzvah. Unfortunately, though, at that time, we didn’t chant in my parents’ congregation, so I never learned how to do it. I married into a family with slightly more traditional practice among some of its members and, therefore, have been attending services with chanting now for more than 20 years.

Yet, learning to chant is a tricky business as an adult. On one occasion, I asked a rabbi if I might learn and he said of course, the congregation ran a special group class for adult b’not mitzvah. (Mostly it was women who never were able to participate in a bat mitzvah service as a child.) I said no, I’d been there and done that – complete with leading the service, a reception with custom-made omelettes, and a special dress. I just wanted to learn to chant. He had no space in his imagination for someone who just wanted to learn this skill without the lifecycle event.

I also learned that there are different kinds of trope. Chanting comes along with symbols in the text of the Torah, Haftarah, Eicha and Megillat Esther. The symbols were introduced by the rabbis as a way to mark and understand the text better. It’s like punctuation. However, as an oral tradition, chanting melodies differ according to where one lives and one’s background. There are actually many different styles of chanting trope, including smaller regional differences, as well.

The trope I’ve begun learning is an Ashkenazi one, which is perhaps appropriate to my family background. (I haven’t done a DNA test, though, so I’m going by family lore.) However, parts of my family are Western European and others have been in the United States for a long time. It’s even possible that I’m learning the “wrong” trope for my background. I’ve found that several Sephardi and Mizrahi chanting styles sound clearer and make more sense to me, perhaps because I’ve learned Modern Hebrew and I lived in Israel as a teenager. It’s actually not as simple as “Learn trope!” “Chant Torah!” although it seems this way if you’ve only lived in one specific Jewish ethnic community with unified customs and traditions.

The more you know, the more complicated things seem. The best metaphor I’ve come up with springs from an odd social media interaction I had. Someone I know only online described her harvest supper menu as including “Jewish-style brisket.” I jokingly responded, “WHAT?! There’s only one kind? What about the many varieties I’ve had over the years? Could it be that I’ve never eaten the only ‘official’ Jewish brisket recipe?”

I said maybe this was an Eastern European/Ashkenazi recipe, or her family recipe. After all, brisket is a relatively cheap cut of meat, cooked low and slow, which is perfect to make on Shabbat, when some families do not adjust oven temperatures or turn the oven on or off.

The person insisted that this was indeed the Jewish-style brisket her family made, mostly, and that, if you Google it, this exact recipe pops up. (Hint, lots of things pop up online that don’t hold up under scrutiny.) Eventually, I suggested that perhaps this was best called a family recipe or a specific geographic recipe, and wished her bon appétit.

Geography matters in cooking meat – for instance, in a Southern barbeque recipe. That is, brisket in Texas doesn’t taste like brisket made in eastern Carolina. Nothing could be more different! The same is true for Jewish trope or chanting. They don’t sound the same because, although Jews originated, long ago, in what is now called Israel, we’re now a diverse people, from all over the world. Just as Jews don’t all look the same, we all don’t eat the same foods on holidays, or sing the same melodies for Lecha Dodi, Adon Olam or myriad other prayers.

So, I begin, with baby steps, to learn one chanting/trope tradition while acknowledging there are many others out there. Like the many brisket recipes and holiday traditions out there, knowing about diversity and traveling deepens our appreciation for what we know and enjoy, and for learning more.

In the meanwhile, I joked with a non-Jewish friend I know in “real life” that, if there is really only one Jewish-style brisket recipe, we might be in trouble. “Oh no!” she replied. “I have to figure out ‘the’ Christian brisket recipe! How have I missed it after all this time?!” We snorted together with laughter. Next, I might call a Muslim friend to ask if there just one Muslim meatball – after all, the kibbe and kofte I’ve shared over many years might not be the official kind?

The best learning for Heshvan? There might not be a single “official” version of anything. That, in itself, is a lesson in diversity that might be worth learning like trope … over and over.

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for CBC Manitoba 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.

Returning to our holiday tables

Planning ahead can help minimize touch points and help keep a small gathering safe. (photo by Michelle Dodek)

We all remember the days when we gathered family, friends and maybe some strangers together at our holiday table to celebrate Rosh Hashanah. For me, it feels like a distant memory but I know I loved preparing loads of food for all of us to enjoy together. And I’m looking forward to doing it again this year, albeit outside, under cover of a tent my brother luckily bought before his eldest daughter’s bat mitzvah (and has subsequently used for the bat mitzvah parties of his two younger daughters and other gatherings, particularly since COVID hit).

Dinner in my family has always a “family style” affair, where dishes are passed from one to the next and then left on the table for anyone to help themselves to seconds or thirds. Lunch on the first day of Rosh Hashanah, which is the main event in my home (aka “the Big Lunch”), has been, for the more than 20 years I’ve hosted it, a giant buffet.

For some people, reverting back to the way things were may be an easy mental step. For others, in an environment with unvaccinated children, immunocompromised loved ones and a newfound awareness about germ transmission, things will not go back to the way they were pre-pandemic. Not yet, given the latest mask mandate, and maybe not ever.

What to serve and how to serve it has always been a challenge in my family. How do we make sure everyone is comfortable with the food choices and the way they are presented? We have a few parameters since we are kosher and have those with nut allergies, dairy sensitivities, oral allergy syndrome, a few vegetarians and others who are just plain particular. Inviting upwards of 40 people, usually closer to 75, always presents some logistical fun, especially with environmental concerns ruling out disposables. All of these challenges have created an environment where thinking creatively about food is a necessity. My formal training as a chef has helped with this process.

The two parts to making sure your guests are at ease this holiday season are choosing a delicious menu (as usual) and presenting the food in a way that features as few touch points as possible. Menus can go one of two ways: traditional or modern. For traditional foods, I will defer to your family’s minhag (tradition). Some families and cooks take great pleasure in their annual interaction with time-honoured recipes. I treasure my baba’s potato knish recipe and relish the prospect of circling my challah and topping it with another small, braided crown the way my mom showed me when I was a little girl.

As a vegetarian, however, I have never presented a full array of traditional Ashkenazi foods to celebrate any holiday. Pickled tongue? Not a chance. In fact, I felt like a bit of a bad Jewish mother when my daughter was 5 years old and leaned over to me at my mother’s yontif table as the soup was served and whispered, “Chicken in soup! Weird!” My soups are seasonal, bright vegetable soups like butternut squash or carrot ginger.

photo - Composed salads are colourful and tasty — Composed salads are colourful and tasty. *(photo by Michelle Dodek)*

The farmers market produce that looks most appealing is what guides my menu. I feel strongly that bringing the bounty of our local harvest to my celebration of a spiritual new year is integral to our connection with where we are and how we live. That topic, however, is for another article.

Let me suggest, if you wish to bring your offerings into 2021 and still have your food choices reflect the symbolism of our tradition, try a couple of approaches.

First, look to Israeli cuisine. The mash-up of all Jewish traditions from Austria to Addis Ababa give many tasty options that will become new staples at your family gatherings.

Second, many Sephardi foods focus on beautiful vegetables and fruits that were not available to people living in Eastern Europe. However, living as we do today, we have access to almost every possible kind of produce. Invest in a few good cookbooks, like those of Adina Sussman, Jana Gur, Einat Admony or Yotam Ottolenghi for ideas on how to up your game with some vegetable forward, delicious, holiday-worthy food.

As far as ways to serve your food, here are some options to consider in order to be considerate of your guests in this special year of our emergence from pandemic holiday isolation.

Option 1: “Modified Family Style aka Downton Abbey,” using family members as the serving staff. For this option, the cook enlists the help of a few willing family members, (in my case, my teenaged children, my sisters and my brother). Each helper is given the responsibility to serve a dish, going from guest to guest, giving a description of the delicacy and spooning out an appropriate amount. While efficient, this does lend itself to the possibility of green bean almandine on Bubbie’s shoulder or salad in Grandpa’s lap.

Option 2: “Plated Dinner aka Eat What’s On Your Plate aka Sweat Away, Host.” This is the restaurant-style plate that hasn’t been so common at home since the Starbucks revolution in dining, where everyone has to have everything their way. In this model, everyone gets the same thing, in approximately the same amounts. Similar to a restaurant but without choosing your order. This results in more food waste, because, although it hasn’t been dropped on Grandpa’s lap, some of dinner will no doubt be pushed to the perimeter of the plate and left for the compost. It also requires, as suggested in the third version of the name, for someone to toil in the kitchen to make every plate and be on call if someone wants seconds of quinoa pilaf and doesn’t have the good fortune of sitting next to a toddler who has pushed all of that mixed grain thing to the edge of her plate. One can enlist the help of volunteers to assist with the plating to speed things up and, most certainly, some people will be needed to take the finished plates to the table, but the onus of refills will almost certainly fall to the person in charge of the kitchen.

Option 3: “Staffed Buffet” is probably the easiest, depending on the set up of your house. In this iteration of food service, a couple of people serve the buffet of food to the guests as they walk by with their plates. This eliminates having everyone touch the serving utensils. It requires fewer helpers than Option 1 and is more customized than Option 2. The catch is that your house needs to be set up to accommodate a group of hungry Jews traipsing along – and staying patient long enough with their family members who are acting as servers – to get all of their food. One major recommendation is, to avoid a stampede or major butting in line, do not serve any version of smoked salmon. For some reason, the sight of thinly sliced orange fish causes many Jewish people to act like Americans at Walmart on Black Friday.

Good luck with your holiday entertaining. Keeping things small this year to ease back into the intimacy of entertaining is also probably a great idea. Remember to say a hearty Shehechiyanu with your assembled guests for, if the pandemic has taught us one lesson, it is never to take being with our loved ones for granted. Shana tova.

Michelle Dodek is a longtime contributor to the Jewish Independent and a balabusta. She shares her love of cooking and entertaining through culinary classes, both in person and on Zoom.