Tag: cooking

Variations on latke tradition

With all the oil used for frying Chanukah potato pancakes – otherwise known as latkes, in what we think is Yiddish, or as levivot in Hebrew – they may be considered an unhealthy food. Yet, each Chanukah, many of us, who are staunch-hearted and old-fashioned, spend time grating potatoes by hand, always accidentally suffering at least one scraped finger. The more modern among us risk coming out with liquid mush by using a food processor or blender.

Why do we keep making these little pancakes year after year? Why do we eat them for Chanukah in the first place? An old folk proverb says: “Chanukah latkes teach us that one cannot live by miracles alone.”

Jewish food writer and cookbook author Joan Nathan contends that the word latke is not in fact Yiddish but rather stems from “a Russian word, latka, and a pastry, from obsolete Russian, oladka, or flat cake of leavened wheat dough.” This, in turn, probably came from a Middle Greek word, eladion, or oil cake, stemming from elaion, meaning olive oil.

Potato pancakes seem to have originated among poor Eastern European Jews, but potatoes did not become a staple until the mid-19th century. John Cooper, in Eat and Be Satisfied: A Social History of Jewish Food, comments that Jews from Lithuania ate pancakes made from potato flour for Chanukah and had borrowed the idea from Ukrainians, who made a potato pancake dish with goose fat called kartoflani platske, which they ate for Christmas. Since Chanukah fell about the same time, and there were plenty of geese to provide goose fat or schmaltz, we could conclude that schmaltz became a substitute for oil. Jews living in the Pale of Settlement in the 17th century probably adapted it for Chanukah as a way to dress potatoes differently for the holiday. Cooper also states that many Eastern European Jews ate buckwheat latkes for Chanukah, while Polish Jews made placki, pancakes, from potato flour and fried them in oil.

Here are a few types of latkes that would be nice to serve during Chanukah.

ROMANIAN ZUCCHINI POTATO LATKES
(six to eight servings)

2 pounds zucchini, peeled and grated down to the seeds
2 large potatoes, grated
1 medium onion, grated
3 eggs
1 tsp vegetable oil (I use canola)
3/4 cup matzah meal (I use flour)
salt and pepper to taste
vegetable oil for frying

  1. Grate zucchini down to the seeds, discard the seeds and squeeze out the liquid.
  2. Peel potatoes and grate. Remove liquid.
  3. Grate onion and add to zucchini-potato mixture.
  4. Add eggs, oil and half a cup of matzah meal or flour. Add more if necessary.
  5. Season with salt and pepper.
  6. Heat oil in a frying pan. Spoon mixture into pan and brown on both sides.
  7. Serve hot with sour cream or applesauce. You can add carrots, parsley and dill.

TUNA LATKES
This recipe came from Starkist Tuna, with adaptations. It makes 16 latkes.

2 cans drained tuna
2 grated potatoes
1 chopped onion
2 eggs
2 tbsp breadcrumbs
3 tsp dry parsley flakes
3 tsp dry chives
salt and pepper to taste
2/3 cup flour
oil

dressing
1 cup sour cream
3 crushed garlic cloves
4 tbsp olive oil
6 tsp dry herbs such as chives, thyme or dill or mixed
1 tbsp sugar
salt to taste

  1. In a bowl or jar with a lid, mix sour cream, garlic, oil, herbs, sugar and salt. Refrigerate.
  2. Heat oil in a frying pan and fry onions until golden.
  3. Crumble tuna in a bowl. Add potatoes, onion, eggs, breadcrumbs, parsley, chives, salt and pepper.
  4. Place flour in a shallow plate. Form round patties and dip in flour. Add oil to frying pan. Fry patties until golden. Drain on paper towels.
  5. Serve on a platter with dressing on the side.

HERBED ZUCCHINI FETA LATKES
With a few changes, this recipe is from Food & Wine and is by Didem Senol, a chef from Istanbul, Turkey, who trained at the New York French Culinary Institute. It makes four to six servings.

4 medium grated zucchini
1 tbsp kosher salt
2 large eggs
1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup chopped dill
1/4 cup chopped parsley
1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese

sauce
1 seeded chopped, peeled cucumber
1 cup sour cream
salt and pepper to taste
vegetable oil

  1. Place zucchini in a colander, sprinkle with salt, toss and let stand five minutes. Squeeze out liquid and transfer to a bowl.
  2. Add eggs, flour, dill, parsley and feta. Refrigerate 10 minutes.
  3. Puree cucumber in food processor and transfer to a bowl. Stir in sour cream, salt and pepper.
  4. Preheat oven to 350°F. Heat oil in a frying pan and then, working in batches, drop tablespoons of batter into the hot oil and fry until brown and crisp. Transfer to a baking sheet and keep warm in oven.
  5. Serve with sour cream-cucumber sauce.

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, and is the author of Witness to History: Ten Years as a Woman Journalist in Israel.

Making savoury muffins

Scott Hocker’s Chicken Pot Pie Cornbread Muffins. The recipe can easily be made kosher. (© Scott Hocker)

It was really a hot summer, and I was trying to think of creative ways to make and serve food. I took the idea of making savoury items in my muffin tins from the online Food & Wine magazine, koshering some of the recipes they have posted. These hand-size meals should delight children and adults alike, though it may take more than one portion to sate the older crowd.

The word muffin is first found in print in 1703, possibly from the German word muffen, meaning small cake. It may also have originated in a British magazine in 1851. In 10th- or 11th-century Wales, however, there existed an English muffin made with yeast and cooked on a griddle. American-style muffins in individual molds are from the 18th century. It is uncertain which came first, the cupcake cups or muffin pans. Regardless, here are some recipes to try out.

CHICKEN POT PIE CORNBREAD MUFFINS

The original recipe was created by Scott Hocker, editor-in-chief of liquor.com, a writer, editor, recipe developer and cookbook author, and his recipe can be found at foodandwine.com/recipes/chicken-pot-pie-cornbread-muffins. Both his and the kosher recipe serve six.

3/4 cup cornmeal
1/4 cup flour
salt to taste
1/4 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
1 egg
3/4 cup non-dairy creamer or pareve milk
***
1 tbsp olive oil
1/2 chopped onion or green onions or shallot
1 finely chopped clove garlic
1/2 carrot cut into chunks
salt and pepper to taste
1 1/2 tsp flour
3/8 cup chicken soup
1/4 cup shredded cooked chicken

  1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease six muffin tins.
  2. Stir together in a bowl cornmeal, flour, salt, baking powder and baking soda.
  3. Whisk in egg and liquid. Fill greased muffin tins two-thirds full with batter.
  4. Heat oil in a frying pan and stir in onion, garlic, carrots, salt and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, eight to 10 minutes. Stir in flour and cook two minutes.
  5. Add soup and bring to a boil then add chicken.
  6. Place one to two tablespoons filling on top of each batter-filled muffin tin. Bake for 25 minutes or until muffins are golden around the edges.

“HOGS” IN A BLANKET

This is a kosher adaptation of a recipe by Grace Parisi, who grew up in a family of cooks and is a cookbook author who headed several test kitchens. The original recipe can be found at foodandwine.com/recipes/hogs-in-blanket. Both recipes make 18 hors d’oeuvres.

3 1/3 ounces pareve puff pastry cut into 2 5-inch squares
1 egg yolk mixed with 1 tbsp water
2 3-ounce beef hot dogs or sausages
1/8 cup chutney
1 tbsp whole grain mustard

  1. Preheat oven to 375°F.
  2. Arrange puff pastry squares on a work surface and brush with egg wash.
  3. Place sausages or hot dogs on bottom edges and roll up pastry, pressing edges to seal. Freeze for 10 minutes or until firm.
  4. Cut logs into half-inch slices and place cut side up in mini-muffin pans. Bake for 25 minutes until golden and sizzling. Cool on a paper towel-lined rack.
  5. Pulse chutney and mustard in food processor until chutney is chopped. Spoon a dollop on each slice and serve.
photo - Kate Winslow’s Muffin Cup Macaroni and Cheese
Kate Winslow’s Muffin Cup Macaroni and Cheese. (© Kate Winslow)

MUFFIN CUP MACARONI AND CHEESE

This recipe is adapted from one by Kate Winslow, former Gourmet magazine editor, writer, recipe developer and cookbook author. The original recipe can be found at foodandwine.com/recipes/muffin-cup-macaroni-and-cheese. The kosher and original versions are both for 12 mini-muffins.

2 tbsp unsalted butter or margarine
1 tbsp flour
1 cup milk
4 ounces shredded cheddar cheese
salt and pepper to taste
4 ounces macaroni
2 1/2 tbsp breadcrumbs

  1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease a mini-muffin pan.
  2. In a saucepan, heat one tablespoon butter or margarine. Add flour and stir for one minute. Add milk and cook over low heat for 10 minutes or until thick.
  3. Add cheese and stir until it is melted and the sauce is smooth.
  4. Cook pasta in boiling, salted water. Drain and add to cheese sauce. Spoon into 12 muffin cups.
  5. Melt remaining one tablespoon of butter or margarine. Stir in breadcrumbs and cook three to five minutes. Sprinkle over macaroni and cheese muffins.
  6. Bake for 15 minutes. Let macaroni cool five to 10 minutes before removing from the pan, so the muffins will hold together.

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, and is the author of Witness to History: Ten Years as a Woman Journalist in Israel.

Foods that babas made

I’m here to boldly encourage you to try something entirely different at your Rosh Hashanah table this year. No, not a pony. A new food. Serve it, to non-vegetarians. And, if anybody asks what they’re eating, confidently tell them it’s a family secret. Don’t forget to mention that, if you tell them, you’ll have to kill them. That generally stops people in their nosy tracks. Let me be perfectly transparent: the food I’m about to suggest is on the meat spectrum. Alright, meat adjacent.

Isn’t it enough that everyone’s oohing and ahhing over the unparalleled tenderness of the dish? The specifics are strictly on a need-to-know basis. And no one needs to know. Except your butcher. OK, enough. It’s beef tongue. You heard correctly. I’m aware it’s not politically correct – after all, some farmer is clearly stifling free speech. Even if it only belongs to a cow. (And, technically, they can’t speak anyway. So moot point.)

Just so we’re clear, beef tongue is definitely not vegan. Or vegetarian-friendly. Not by a New York mile. I’m simply providing you with an alternative to screaming chicken, Coca-Cola brisket and mayo-slathered, onion soup-mix salmon.

I know that beef tongue screams old school (and Council cookbook). But so do I. And, if we’re going to be honest about it, people are still enthusiastically scarfing down ketchup-glazed meatloaf and baked salami filled with French’s mustard. They’re just not yelling it from the rooftops. So, loosen up and try thinking of beef tongue as a distant relative. Second cousin twice removed. Only maybe a little farther. But, still, meat mishpachah.

Before you pooh-pooh it, give it a shot. At least Google it and see what other Jews have to say about it. Most delis sell it pickled. But, believe me, pickled tongue has nothing on the sweet and sour version. Personally, I prefer to just boil it, cool it and eat it in a sandwich. With yellow mustard. On white bread. I can see the lynch mob in the distance.

The cooking part is where it gets tricky. If you’re a man, chances are you can’t relate to what I’m about to describe. You ladies, on the other hand, will understand perfectly. The cooking per se is easy (see recipe below). The next part is where it gets awkward. Once it’s cooked, you need to peel off the rubbery outside skin: think of taking off a pair of too-thick, too-tight pantyhose. That are wet. And it’s a hot, humid day. Not a particularly appealing visual, but it’s fairly accurate hyperbole.

Trust me when I tell you that your family/guests will be drooling all over themselves, demanding the recipe – if they can get past the sordid cooking details. Without further ado, here goes. And don’t be fooled by the simplicity of the recipe. You’re welcome.

SWEET AND SOUR BEEF TONGUE

1 beef tongue
2 onions, peeled and quartered
3 cloves garlic, peeled and halved
2 bay leaves
***
15 oz can of tomato sauce
15 oz water
3/4 cup brown sugar
juice of 1 lemon
1/2 cup sultana or dark raisins
dash of Worcestershire sauce (optional)
salt and pepper

Put the tongue and the rest of the ingredients into a deep pot with enough water to cover it well. Bring to a boil and simmer partly covered for about three-and-a-half hours, until tender when pierced with a fork. As it’s cooking, skim off the shmootz that forms on top. When tender, remove from the water. While it’s still warm, remove the skin (see detailed, gross description above), bones and stem. Slice and serve as is, or slice and serve with the sweet and sour sauce.

At the end of the day, a well-cooked beef tongue is all you need and nothing you don’t. But, I get that some of you are disgusted at the thought of eating tongue. So, for you finicky folks, I offer up another old school recipe – short ribs. This one is decades old and was handed down from my father’s cousin, Bertha Bloom. Nobody said it was diet food, so, if you’re not fussy about calories, go for it. Short ribs are notorious for being fatty, but therein lies most of their charm. Alright, all of their charm. You’ll diet tomorrow. And, hopefully, not die of clogged arteries tonight. But, have your cardiologist on speed dial, just in case.

BERT BLOOM’S BARBEQUE SHORT RIBS

Season two pounds of short ribs with salt, pepper and garlic salt then broil them until brown and half cooked. Transfer them to a covered Dutch oven (or similar deep roasting pan). For the sauce:

1 cup chili sauce
1/4 cup ketchup
4 tsp dry mustard
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 clove garlic, crushed
1 tbsp soy sauce
small tin of crushed pineapple

Mix the ingredients together – including the juice from the pineapple tin, but not the pineapple – put in a pot and bring to a boil. Pour the sauce over the ribs and cook covered at 300°F to 325°F for one-and-a-half to two hours, basting occasionally. Add the crushed pineapple 20 minutes before it’s finished cooking and leave uncovered. Prepare to be awed by the yumminess factor.

For your guests who prefer healthy food, you may want to direct them elsewhere for Rosh Hashanah dinner. Or, if you’re a really nice and accommodating host, make them a marinated tofu mock-roast. Or a Tofurkey. But, for those of you indulging in the short ribs, now might be a good time to loosen your belt or unzip your skirt, and prepare to stuff your belly. It’s Rosh Hashanah. Celebrate with some new arterial stents! Tell Dr. Saul I sent you.

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.

Kugel comforts during COVID

Yerushalmi kugel by Jamie Geller. (photo from jamiegeller.com)

If I’d known the world was going to be locked down because of the COVID-19 pandemic, I would have stocked up on toilet paper, disinfecting wipes and pasta much sooner. Of course, only one of those is edible.

Desperate measures call for desperate times and, when so many restaurants have closed, cooking has become mandatory. As has self-isolation. Sure, we could order takeout, but I’m still slightly paranoid about who cooks my food. After all, you’re only as healthy as the last person you were in contact with. I rest my case.

I’ve tried to be creative in the kitchen, but, when you’re used to eating sushi at least once a week and shopping for fresh food every day, it gets challenging during a lockdown. Now we eat more pasta. Way more pasta. My husband Harvey loves it. Me, not so much.

Harvey does a Costco run every so often to stock up, but I’m loathe to send him out into the dangerous spittle-filled world of COVID coughs right now. And the regular stores are often out of the basics, at least until recently. To be completely frank, I’m sick of cooking. So, what’s an accidental balabusta to do?

I’ll tell you what I did. I handed Harvey my mother’s tattered Jewish Council Cookbook the other day and pronounced: “Make something!” So, what does he choose from all those geshmak recipes? Tuna noodle casserole. You know the one – it’s composed of Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup, Kraft Dinner and a can or two of tuna. If you want to get really fancy shmancy, you can grate some aged cheddar cheese on top. It’s the quintessential comfort food. Minus the sushi. Or, in Harvey’s case, minus the tuna.

My first dip of the fork into the ooey-gooey goodness of the tuna noodle casserole elicited a squeal of surprise. It was actually delicious. Processed deliciousness, but nonetheless yummy in the extreme. The tummy wants what the tummy wants. After a few bites, I expressed my perplexity that I didn’t taste the tuna. Harvey said it had probably sunk to the bottom, so I did a deep dive to the base of the casserole dish, and … bupkis. Harvey had a go at it and, likewise, nada. He humbly walked over to the fridge, opened it, and sheepishly admitted that he’d forgotten to put in the tuna. So, we were eating KD with mushroom soup and a crusty topping of melted cheddar. It was still superb, in a plebian sort of way. Does this count as accidental balabatishness? I didn’t think so. Even if it did, I wasn’t the balabusta who made it.

I’m not proud of what we ate. But I’m sure other people have eaten worse. Much worse. Think fried Spam. Or headcheese (whatever that is). Nobody is going to raise their hand and cop to either of those atrocities, but, trust me, I know where the bodies are buried.

In the end, a casserole that I thought was going to feed us for two nights lasted three. Kind of like a tuna-based Chanukah miracle – the “excess” tuna gave its life for a couple of sandwiches, to boot. The real victory was that I didn’t have to cook for three whole nights.

Don’t think I can’t hear you yelling, “What’s the matter with you people? Haven’t you ever heard of salads?!” Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I have. And, as much as I love salads, it’s not a mutual admiration alliance. Harvey buys pre-bagged salads for himself as a side dish, but rarely do we eat a jacked-up salad for the main course. It could very well land me in the hospital, and I choose not to take that chance. Digestion issues.

By rights, I should probably have scurvy by now, but I have thankfully dodged that bullet. To get some colour in my food, I put steamed or roasted carrots in everything. Sometimes, I even eat broccoli. Is my diet restrictive? Sure. Am I relatively healthy, nonetheless? Yes – the operative word being relatively. My body happens to do well on protein. Lots and lots of protein. Animal protein. I’ll own it: I’m a card-carrying carnivore. Don’t judge me. In case you care, I used to switch things up with more varied restaurant food before COVID-19 came calling. But now that I’m relegated to my own culinary wits, things have gotten kind of serious. And not in a good way.

I am jonesing pretty bad for some agedashi tofu and salmon sashimi, but I don’t dare eat that now. I heard that, if you get takeout food, the first thing you should do is transfer it to your own dishes and reheat it in the microwave to kill off any viruses or bacteria. That’s fine for cooked food, but I believe that eating sashimi during a COVID-19 pandemic is like sticking a hand grenade in your mouth and hoping to have a pleasant day.

Desperate for some variety, I dug through my recipes and came across one for Jerusalem kugel. It still counts as pasta, but I view it as a more cultured, genteel pasta. Usually a side dish, I knew I could convince Harvey that it’s a main (especially if I served him enough of it). I figure I’ll follow it up with a roasted carrot/yam chaser. This particular kugel is satisfyingly savoury and sweet, and the recipe is by Jamie Geller.

SWEET AND PEPPERY JERUSALEM KUGEL

1 (12 ounce) package thin egg noodles
1 cup sugar
1/3 cup oil
4 eggs
1 tsp salt
1/4 tsp to 1 tsp ground pepper

  1. Preheat oven to 350˚F.
  2. Bring a pot of water to a boil. Cook noodles according to package instructions. Strain and set aside.
  3. Add the sugar and oil to a large pot on low heat. Stir until sugar is dissolved and a deep golden caramel colour, but not burnt. This can take 20 minutes or more.
  4. Turn off the heat and add the noodles into the pot of sugar. Immediately stir with a big spoon until the noodles are coated in the caramel. Don’t worry if the sugar hardens into blobs – it will melt in the oven.
  5. Allow the mixture to cool for about 10 minutes. Mix in the eggs, salt and pepper. (Make sure it’s cool so the eggs don’t cook.)
  6. Pour the mixture into a greased springform pan or baking dish. Bake for one hour.

May this COVID-19 pandemic be over with soon. In the meantime, as Dr. Bonnie Henry says: “Be kind. Be Calm. Stay safe.” As for the Accidental Balabusta, figuring out what to cook every night should be my worst problem. Ever.

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.

Why not take olive me?

Tori Avey’s Mediterranean Olive Chicken is one of those guest-worthy dishes – impressive, yet easy to prepare and sure to please. (photo by Shelley Civkin)

It’s Thursday afternoon and I’m wondering what the maid is going to make for dinner. Or how I’m going to spend that $70 million Lotto Max I just won. Or when I’ll fly to Mars. See my quandary? I guess you could say I’m in a rut: fish, chicken, steak. Not being a big pasta fan, I seem to fall back on my old regulars every week. If I let him, my husband Harvey would eat pizza and pasta every night.

I remember the ’60s, when my mom had an unwritten weekly dinner schedule. Sundays were prime rib roast with Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes and salad. The salad was only ever iceberg lettuce (hadn’t farmers discovered romaine, butter lettuce or kale yet??), mixed with cucumbers, tomatoes and green onions. Bottled dressing. The rest of the week’s dinners consisted of chicken livers with onions, salmon, meatloaf or hamburgers, or chicken. Each main was accompanied by the same weekly side dishes. And I mean the same. There was little, if any, variation from week to week. There’s something to say for consistency. With the exception of salad, every other vegetable mom served was frozen and came pre-chopped in a plastic bag. It was the ’60s after all. Occasionally, we’d go to the White Spot on Granville and 67th for a treat, and eat in the car, with the long tray spread across the front seat, attached to the window edges. Exciting times!

It’s funny that the ’60s and ’70s were a time of instant everything – Carnation Instant Breakfast, Pop-Tarts, Shake ’n Bake, Swanson TV Dinners, Nestle’s instant chocolate milk. Even though lots of women were stay-at-home moms and had time on their hands. Not to diminish the hard work they did raising their kids and keeping the house spotless. But let’s face it, lots of women today work outside the home and still do the majority of the childrearing and house chores. There were those privileged few who also had live-in housekeepers (yes, my family was one of them), and still my mother used lots of instant, pre-made foods. She was a good cook, for sure, but had to have a recipe in front of her. I’m like her in that regard. But I digress.

When we got married 10-and-a-half years ago, Harvey and I used to eat out at restaurants three to four times a week. So cooking was easy. Now, not so much. Sure, retirement provides me with more time to explore recipes. But my heart’s just not in it. Actually, that’s not true. I’m usually so busy volunteering that I simply don’t have the time (or inclination) to sit in front of a computer looking for culinary inspiration. Harvey thinks of cooking like a chemistry experiment, so he enjoys it. But as we get older (and sleep way less), we’ve kind of lost the fire in our bellies for cooking.

My father, alav hashalom, used to describe me as a human garbage disposal, because I would pretty much eat anything. He used to say that I’d “eat out of a puddle.” I was the “Give-it-to-Mikey-he’ll-eat-it” daughter. Admittedly, as long as someone else cooks it, I’ll eat it. That was then.

I am still a very easy-to-please eater – as long as the food isn’t too spicy, doesn’t contain too much roughage and doesn’t have nuts, corn, celery or raw vegetables in it. Well-seasoned food is nice, but, at heart, I’m a purist. With a bad gut. Bland food doesn’t bother me; in fact, I’ve been known to enjoy hospital food. After my recent three-month stomach illness, during which I ate only bland food, and very little, I’ve been a bit apprehensive about trying anything different. But, lately, as I’ve been feeling better, I figure it’s time to branch out. Caution to the wind!

As I strolled the culinary landscape that is the internet, I came across a particular chicken recipe by Tori Avey, whose recipes I’ve enjoyed before. Best thing about this recipe is that it’s easy. And, turns out, it’s stunningly delicious. Feast your taste buds. Find it online at toriavey.com/toris-kitchen/mediterranean-olive-chicken.

TORI AVEY’S MEDITERRANEAN OLIVE CHICKEN
(tweaked by me slightly)

3/4 cup chopped green olives (I used queen Manzanilla)
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
2 tbsp fresh lime juice
1 tbsp crushed garlic
2 tsp honey
1/2 tsp lime zest
salt and pepper
4-5 lbs chicken pieces, bone in, skin on (I use 6 chicken thighs, as we’re dark meat fans, but white meat would be fine, too)

The recipe also called for red pepper flakes and dried oregano, which I omitted, plus wine to make a sauce afterwards, which I also omitted.

  1. In a mixing bowl, whisk together the chopped olives, olive oil, lime juice, garlic, honey and lime zest. Season the marinade with salt and pepper to taste.
  2. Sprinkle the chicken pieces lightly with salt and pepper. Place chicken pieces in a nine-by-13-inch baking dish. Brush the pieces evenly with olive marinade, using all of the marinade to coat.
  3. Cover the baking dish with plastic wrap and place in the refrigerator for at least two hours (or up to overnight).
  4. Preheat oven to 375˚F. Remove the plastic wrap and cover the baking dish with foil. Pierce a few vents with a sharp knife around the outer edges.
  5. Place the covered dish in the oven. Let the chicken bake for 60 minutes, then remove the foil and bake for an additional 15 to 30 minutes, basting periodically, until well cooked and tender. At the end of cooking, you can broil it for a minute or two to brown the skin (I didn’t bother with this step).

After two bites, my husband pronounced this the best chicken I had ever made. Bar none. And we eat a lot of chicken. Since I usually bake chicken uncovered and it turns out dry, this was a surprising treat – extremely moist, über-flavourful and just as yummy the next day. I’ll probably double the recipe next time around, since it’s worth having enough left for a second dinner. This is one of those guest-worthy dishes – impressive, yet easy to prepare and sure to please. And it makes a nice Shabbat meal, too. I also realized the versatility of the marinade when I tried it on pasta. I’d place bets that it goes well with steak, too. One marinade, three uses. Now that’s a masterful marinade!

You’re welcome. Beteavon!

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.

Post-seder meat dishes

After eating all our wonderful family tradition seder dishes, I find it fun to try out meals that I haven’t before and that are not from my cultural background. Here are some you might want to try.

MATZAH MEAT PIE

(Egyptian-born Claudia Roden is the master of Middle Eastern food and author of 20 cookbooks. Now 84 years old, she lives in London. I met her in the 1970s, when she came to Israel and we had a wonderful visit. This is her recipe from the New York Times Passover Cookbook, adapted from The Book of Jewish Foods, which she wrote. It makes four to six servings.)

1 large chopped onion
3 tbsp vegetable oil
1 1/2 pounds ground lamb or beef
salt and pepper to taste
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp allspice
2 tbsp raisins
2 tbsp pine nuts or walnuts
1 cup warm beef stock
5-6 matzot
1 small egg, beaten

  1. Preheat oven to 375˚F. Spray a pie plate with vegetable spray.
  2. Heat two tablespoons oil in a frying pan and fry onion over medium heat for 10 minutes, until golden. Add ground meat, salt, pepper, cinnamon and allspice. Cook, stirring until meat has browned but is still moist, about 10 minutes. Add raisins.
  3. In another pan, fry the nuts in one tablespoon oil for one minute, stirring until nuts are lightly coloured. Add to meat mixture and stir.
  4. Place beef stock in a large, shallow rectangular pan. Soak matzot one at a time, pressing them gently to absorb the liquid.
  5. Press two or three softened matzot into a pie plate. Place meat mixture on top of matzot. Cover pie with remaining matzot. Brush top with beaten egg. Bake for 30 minutes or until top is golden.

KABSAH
(This recipe comes from It Tastes Too Good to be Kosher by Peter A. Weissenstein and is a Lebanese dish, good for using up leftover lamb or chicken.)

1 pound ground lamb
1 pound ground chicken
4 minced garlic cloves
salt to taste
2 medium, diced onions
1 finely diced large tomato
2 tsp cumin
4 tbsp minced parsley
oil

  1. In a bowl, combine lamb, chicken, garlic, salt, onions, tomato, cumin and parsley and blend.
  2. Heat oil in a frying pan. Spoon mixture into frying pan and fry until well heated. Serve with Israeli salad.

BRISKET MEATBALLS IN TOMATO PASSATA
(Passata is Italian for “go through,” i.e. the cooked tomato puree goes through a special machine. This Italian-influenced dish was created by Hillary Sterling for Vic’s, her New York City restaurant. It makes four servings.)

Meatballs:
1 1/2 cups crumbled, unsalted matzah
2 1/2 tbsp water
1 1/4 pounds ground brisket
1 large egg
1 tbsp olive oil
salt to taste
1 1/2 tsp ground fennel seeds (optional)
1/2 tsp crushed red pepper
pepper to taste

Passata:
1/4 cup sliced garlic
1 1/2 tbsp olive oil
1 28-ounce can crushed, drained plum tomatoes
1/8 cup fresh marjoram leaves
2 1/2 four-by-one-inch orange peel strips
salt and pepper to taste

  1. Preheat oven to 425˚F. Set a wire rack inside a large baking sheet and spray with vegetable oil.
  2. Combine crumbled matzah and water in a bowl. Add brisket, egg, oil, salt, fennel (if using), red pepper and black pepper. Mix with hands until combined. Shape into eight meatballs. Arrange meatballs on sprayed wire rack. Bake until browned, about 22 minutes.
  3. Meanwhile, in a frying pan, cook garlic and oil for passata, stirring often, a minute and a half. Add crushed tomatoes, marjoram leaves, orange peel strips, salt and red pepper. Bring to a boil then remove from heat.
  4. Transfer meatballs to tomato passata in frying pan. Garnish with crumbled matzot, fresh marjoram leaves and chile oil. Serve warm.

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, and is the author of Witness to History: Ten Years as a Woman Journalist in Israel.

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

  1. Mince the garlic.
  2. Peel and chop the onion.
  3. Peel and cube the potatoes.
  4. Rinse kale and drain it well. Remove the thick stems then chop it up.
  5. Melt butter over medium heat in a heavy soup pan.
  6. Add garlic, onion, potatoes, and salt and pepper to taste.
  7. Stir and cook for several minutes over medium heat.
  8. Add the broth and bring it to a boil. Skim off fat from the top.
  9. Gently simmer with the lid on for about 15 minutes or until potatoes are tender.
  10. Add the kale and cook without the lid for about three to five minutes or until tender.
  11. 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.
  12. 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

  1. Mix together crushed Weetabix, flour, baking soda and salt in medium bowl. Set aside.
  2. In a large bowl, using a hand mixer, cream together butter/margarine and sugars. Beat in vanilla and egg.
  3. Add dry ingredients and mix well. Stir in chocolate chips.
  4. Drop dough by tablespoonsful onto an ungreased baking sheet (or line with parchment paper).
  5. Bake at 350°F for 12 minutes (or slightly longer for a crispier cookie).
  6. 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.

Brisket recipes for holiday

(photo by Josh Evnin)

In traditional Jewish cooking, brisket is most often braised as a pot roast, especially as a holiday main course, usually served at Rosh Hashanah, Passover and on the Sabbath. 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. But why not try it for Chanukah? It’d make a great holiday main dish.

First, some background. Brisket is a cut of meat from the breast or lower chest of a cow. It is one of the nine 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 the connective tissue. The term brisket is derived from the Middle English brusket, which comes from the earlier Old Norse brjósk, meaning cartilage.

MOM’S EASY-TO-MAKE BRISKET
6-8 servings

4-pound brisket
2/3 package onion soup mix
paprika
parsley flakes
dill
6 carrots
8 potatoes

  1. Preheat oven to 350°F.
  2. Place the brisket in a foil-line baking pan. Sprinkle onion soup mix, paprika, parsley flakes and dill on top. Add carrots and potatoes. Seal in foil.
  3. Bake for one hour per pound of meat.

BRISKET AND FRUIT
8-10 servings

2 sliced onions
1 3- to 4-pound brisket
1 1/2 cups beer or wine
1 cup pitted prunes
1 cup dry apricots
3 tbsp brown sugar
2 tbsp orange marmalade
1 tsp brandy
1 tsp grated lemon peel
juice of 1 lemon
3/4 tsp ground ginger
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp Worcestershire sauce

  1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Line a baking pan with foil to cover brisket.
  2. Sprinkle half the onions on foil, place brisket on top; place remaining onions on top of brisket and seal. Roast three hours.
  3. Combine beer or wine, prunes, apricots, sugar, marmalade, brandy, lemon peel, lemon juice, ginger, cinnamon and Worcestershire sauce in a bowl and blend.
  4. Spread mixture on top of brisket. Reduce heat to 300°F. Cover pan and cook one hour, adding more beer or wine if sauce appears dry.

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.

Trio of cheesy pastas

(photo from Umbe Ber/Pixabay)

Every time I do a food column, I look up its history, and I am continually fascinated by what I learn. We all know what is pasta – unleavened semolina mixed with water or eggs and formed into various shapes. It was not until 1874 that the word pasta came into popular use, from the Italian. However, there is mention, as early as the first century CE of fried dough as an everyday food.

Lagana is mentioned in a fifth-century cookbook as an ancient version of lasagna. A kind of boiled dough is mentioned in the Jerusalem Talmud, common in ancient Israel from the third to fifth centuries CE. Dry pasta became popular in the 14th and 15th centuries; tomatoes came to Italy in the 16th century and to Italian cuisine in the 17th century. Pasta became popular in North America with the Italian immigration at the beginning of the 20th century.

How many kinds of pasta do you think there are – long, medium length, short cut, stretch, soup, with fillings and gnocchi? There are 163!

Here are some recipes, which use different kinds of pasta.

MY FAVOURITE LO-CAL FETTUCCINE ALFREDO
4 servings

8 ounces fettuccine noodles
4 cups pareve chicken soup
1 cup low-fat sour cream
2 tbsp low-fat margarine
2 minced garlic cloves
3 tbsp chopped parsley
2 tbsp Parmesan cheese

  1. Cook noodles in chicken soup 12 minutes. Drain. Place in a bowl.
  2. In a frying pan, melt margarine. Sauté garlic one minute. Reduce heat and add sour cream and blend. Add noodles.
  3. Serve with parsley and Parmesan cheese.

CHEESY FETTUCCINE ALFREDO
4 servings

1/3 cup butter or margarine
8 ounces cooked, drained egg noodles
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/2 cup grated Swiss cheese
1/2 cup half and half

  1. Melt butter or margarine in a frying pan.
  2. Add noodles and toss well.
  3. Sprinkle with cheese and toss gently until cheeses are melted and blended.
  4. Add half and half just to heat. Serve at once.

PENNE WITH EGGPLANT, OLIVES AND FETA
4-5 servings

3 tbsp olive oil
2 1/2 diced medium red bell peppers
3 chopped garlic cloves
1/2 pound eggplant, cut into 1//2-inch cubes
1 1/2 tsp oregano
1 1/2 cups canned tomatoes in juice diced or 1 pound regular diced tomatoes
1/2 cup thinly sliced fresh basil or 1/4 cup dry
1/4 cup pitted Kalamata or other black-brine cured olives
2 tbsp tomato paste
1 tbsp red wine vinegar
2 3/4 cups crumbled feta cheese

  1. Spray a rectangular baking dish with vegetable spray. Preheat oven to 350°F.
  2. Heat oil in a large pot. Add bell peppers and garlic. Sauté three minutes. Add eggplant and oregano. Reduce heat, cover and cook until eggplant is soft (about 15 minutes).
  3. Add tomatoes, 1/4 cup fresh basil (or 1/8 cup dry), olives, tomato paste and vinegar. Cover and simmer about 12 minutes.
  4. Cook pasta in boiling salt water until just tender. Drain well.
  5. Stir pasta into vegetable mixture. Transfer to baking dish and bake for 20 minutes. Sprinkle with feta and 1/4 cup fresh (or 1/8 cup dry) basil.

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.

Pot roast for Rosh Hashanah

There’s no denying that food is an insanely large part of Jewish life. Whether we’re cooking it, eating it or writing about it, our lives inexorably orbit around it. It’s true that most religions celebrate their holidays, at least partially, through food. But we Jews have taken the concept to nosebleed-worthy stratospheric heights. If someone tells you their son is becoming bar mitzvah, our first question is not “Which shul?” but “What are you serving?” A bris? We don’t ask: “What time?” but rather, “What can I make?”

It’s not that modern-day Yiddishkeit revolves around food, but it kinda does. I’m fully aware that we’re supposed to focus on blessing and elevating the food we eat, since it is meaningless on its own. From a religious perspective, food is merely the vehicle to give us the strength to do mitzvahs and study Torah. I get it. But how can you ignore the deliciousness of a rock-star chicken soup or a melt-in-your-mouth brisket?

When you pair Rosh Hashanah and food, what do you get? Pure joy. And maybe a little indigestion, if there’s excess onion and garlic on the guest list. We all know that the High Holidays are a time to relax with family, eat lovingly prepared meals and go to shul. And, while shul is certainly important, for some, the highlight is the food.

From many years of observation, I’ve deduced that there are three main contenders at the Ashkenazi Rosh Hashanah table: matzah ball soup, brisket and gefilte fish. And maybe chicken. Or salmon, if you’re a true Vancouverite. Anything else is considered “alternative.” Seriously, when was the last time someone served tofu or sunomono at Rosh Hashanah dinner? Asked and answered.

Being firmly entrenched in the carnivore camp, I decided I’m going to make a pot roast for Rosh Hashanah this year. Being a pot roast virgin, until recently I knew next to nothing about this cut of meat or how to cook it. How did I get to be 63 years old without knowing these things? Rhetorical question. Anyway, I did what any self-respecting Accidental Balabusta would do – I Googled it. I found a recipe from the Food Network by Ree Drummond, called Perfect Pot Roast! I followed the recipe religiously (OK, minus the sheitel), except I made a mini-roast (one-and-three-quarter pounds) in case I screwed it up. And I used beef blade roast, which is the same as chuck roast, apparently. I cooked it at 275˚F for two-and-a-half hours. It turned out as scrumptious as something a bubbe would make. Only better. Modesty, wherefore art thou?

Over the years, I’ve heard gossip about pot roast: that it calls for a cheap, tough cut of meat (true); that it’s not really a Jewish cut of meat (see Snobbery 101); and that only goyim eat it (see Racism 101). I’m living proof that pot roast is a very Jewish thing. And, excuse me if I brag, but my newfound pot roast is beyond delicious. Or, to use the vernacular, a mechaye.

I feel compelled to mention something a little odd at this juncture. When I brought my first pot roast and took it out of the package, I noticed it had heavy twine wrapped around it. I wondered whether I’d purchased the B&D variety by mistake. Googling the twine part set my mind at ease. I mean, who wants to serve a kinky Rosh Hashanah pot roast?

Call me clairvoyant or, on second thought, don’t (that’s really not a Jewish thing), but I think you might be chomping at the bit for this recipe. Wait no longer. Allow me to introduce you to the Perfect Pot Roast by Ree Drummond. BTW, it calls for a Dutch oven, but any deep, covered roasting pan will do just fine. (Don’t feel bad, I had to Google Dutch oven, too.) Go ahead, cook it and tell me if this doesn’t taste Jewish.

PERFECT POT ROAST

Salt and ground black pepper
One 3-5 pound chuck roast (same as beef blade roast)
2-3 tbsp olive oil
2 whole onions, peeled and halved
6-8 whole carrots, peeled and cut into 2-inch pieces
1 cup red wine (doesn’t need to be anything fancy)
3 cups beef broth
2-3 sprigs fresh rosemary
2-3 sprigs fresh thyme
2-3 potatoes, peeled and cut into pieces

  1. Preheat oven to 275˚F.
  2. Generously salt and pepper the roast.
  3. Heat the olive oil in a large fry pan or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add the halved onions to the pot, browning them on both sides. Remove the onions to a plate.
  4. Throw the carrots into the same fry pan or Dutch oven and toss them around a bit until slightly browned. Set aside the carrots with the onions.
  5. If needed, add a bit more olive oil to the fry pan or Dutch oven. Place the meat in the fry pan or Dutch oven and sear it for about a minute on all sides, until it is nice and brown all over. Remove the roast to a plate.
  6. With the burner still on medium-high, use either red wine or beef broth (about one cup) to deglaze the fry pan or Dutch oven, scraping the bottom with a whisk. Put the roast back into the Dutch oven (or deep, covered roasting pan) and add enough beef broth to cover the meat halfway.
  7. Add in the onions and the carrots, along with the fresh herbs. Add potatoes, too (optional).
  8. Put the lid on, then roast it.
  9. The original recipe says to roast a three-pound roast for three hours or a four-to-five-pound roast for four hours. I personally don’t think this is nearly time enough. When I cooked two two-pound roasts in a single roaster at once, it took six-and-a-half hours to cook. The roast is ready when it’s fall-apart tender. I think the longer you cook it, the more tender it gets. It’s hard to screw this up, unless you undercook it.

Important note: don’t get too close to your Dutch oven when you lift the lid during cooking or you’ll get what I call the “pot roast facial.” I’m not sure your pores will appreciate all that meaty steam. But who am I to say? Just don’t blame me if you get third-degree facial burns. Bon appetit! Or, eat it and weep. From joy, that is.

May you all have a happy, healthy, prosperous and peaceful New Year!

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.