Amid the hectic grocery shopping, chicken soup-making, cleaning, and general preparations, there is something intensely comforting about finally sitting down with family and friends at your impeccably set table on the eve of Rosh Hashanah and getting your fingers sticky with challah and apples dipped in honey.

Like many other Jewish holidays, Rosh Hashanah is filled with symbolic foods. To start the new year, the foods are meant to prompt us to reflect on the past year and to represent our aspirations for the year to come. In the Talmudic era, rabbis recommended people eat gourds, fenugreek, leeks, beet greens, and dates because the Hebrew words were phonetically similar to words related to good judgment and casting away sins and enemies. According to Gil Marks, different communities added their own traditions, which were often phonetic puns as well, such as carrots, whose Hebrew name, “gezer”, can also mean “to tear” and “decree,” signifying that any evil decree should be torn up. Additionally, carrots are sweet and look much like coins when sliced in rounds, a hopeful symbol for good fortunes in the coming year.

Today, the most famous food tradition associated with Rosh Hashanah is the custom of eating apples dipped in honey. It has become so entrenched in the holiday ritual that a special blessing is recited over it before the holiday meal, asking God to “renew for us a good and sweet year.” Gil Marks’ research found the first explanation for the introduction of apples, in the 12th century, was the hope that the shiny fruit would bring a bright future for the Jewish community. Just as the carrot took on many meanings, eating apples and honey became a ritual with multiple implications. As indicated in the blessing, eating apples and honey represented hope for a sweet year. The roundness of the apple is also described as a reminder of the ongoing circle of life and in the ancient Near East, honey symbolized immortality.

In addition to starting the holiday with apples dipped in honey, many families have a tradition of dipping slices of round, raisin-filled challot into honey throughout the holiday season (from Rosh Hashannah through Sukkot). And, of course, apples and honey can figure prominently in the dessert department.

This chicken recipe takes the tradition of eating apples and honey one step farther by bringing the theme into the entree. Why confine them to appetizers and desserts? Cooking the chicken in apple cider and honey creates a subtle sweetness and ensures a moist, tender chicken. The earthiness of the dark meat combined with the onions, garlic, and thyme reign in the sweetness a bit. As a final touch, feel free to garnish with pomegranate seeds, which symbolize a desire to perform a multitude of mitzvot in the year to come. Feel free to sop up any leftover sauce with your challah.

Not Your Bubbe’s Rosh Hashanah Chicken

Ingredients:
4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
4 chicken quarters
3 large yellow onions, sliced
1 head garlic, peeled whole cloves
3 tablespoons thyme leaves, stripped
½ tablespoon honey
1 cup apple cider or apple juice
1 cups chicken stock or water
Pomegranate seeds to garnish (optional)
Salt and pepper, to taste

Directions:
1. Heat a Dutch oven or saucier over medium heat. Season chicken with pepper. Add two tablespoons of olive oil to the pan and place chicken skin side down. Let the chicken brown on both sides (about 5 minutes each), then remove from pan and set aside.

2. Sautee onions, garlic, thyme, and honey, stirring regularly until onions have caramelized.

3. Add apple cider and stock. Let the liquids come to a simmer then add chicken back to pot. Continue cooking on medium for fifteen minutes until it is completely cooked.

4. Serve with sauce and onions poured over the chicken. Garnish with pomegranate seeds or thyme.

Also Try:

Not Your Bubbe’s Moussaka with Eggplant and Zucchini

Not Your Bubbe’s Peanut Butter Lag B’Omer S’mores

Not Your Bubbe’s Modern Gefilte Fish Fillet

The post Not Your Bubbe’s Rosh Hashanah Chicken appeared first on Jewcy.

So you’re going to a potluck this Shavuot, a holiday known for dairy blintzes and cheesecakes. You know the meal is going to be vegetarian so you can only assume that the main dish will be … lasagna, the tuna casserole of our generation. I’m over it. You’re over it. So why does it still show up all over the place? I’m not a vegetarian, but I consider myself an ally and sympathize with their plight. What is it with omnivores thinking the only way to get filled with plant foods is to layer it between noodles and encase it with cheese? Public service announcement: It’s not.

I bring this up because Shavuot is next week. For a range of reasons, Shavuot is traditionally commemorated both by staying up late to study and eating dairy. The tradition of all-night Torah study is a celebration of the anniversary of receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai. The dairy piece comes from a notion of the birth of calves and lambs in the springtime and the idea that the Israelites received the laws about separating milk and meat.

People might not tell you this, but I think it’s actually because they’re tired of always eating pareve desserts. But just because you want cheesecake, doesn’t mean you should slap together a mediocre meal to get there. There are a number of ways to go about creating a beautiful vegetarian meal. As a starting point, I recommend reading J. Kenji Lopez-Alt’s advice on making a vegan (also applicable to vegetarian) meal that’s not just a bunch of side dishes. The major tenets: The main dish needs to have a centerpiece, contrasting and complementary flavors, distinct textures, and must look pretty. Lasagna can probably hit three of those categories, if done well, but unless you burn your noodles, you aren’t like to get too many textures.

Enter moussaka. Moussaka is a multilayered dish, so those of you still hung up on lasagna can maybe get on board with this one. The recipe I’m proposing isn’t your typical moussaka (although what that may be is debatable given the regional variations) of layered eggplants, ground lamb, tomato sauce, and béchamel. Although moussaka is one of the most famous Greek dishes, its origins only date to the early 20th century and its name actually comes from Arabic, not Greek. The lamb had to go, since the end goal is cheesecake and, of course, there’s the whole not cooking meat in its mother’s béchamel issue. I used tempeh as a substitute, since it’s a good source of protein and because fermented soy has a number of health benefits and is a better option than textured vegetable protein.

But what makes this moussaka special is the crunchy millet topping. Remember, we want something with texture. The millet topping—a combination of millet, pine nuts, herbs, and spices—is allowed to crisp under the broiler. When you bite into it, you chew through soft layers of eggplant and zucchini, “ground” tempeh, creamy béchamel, and the satisfying crunch of the millet mixture.

I’m not going to pretend this recipe is a cakewalk, because it isn’t, but I urge you not to be intimidated by the length of ingredients or steps! First, because a lot of this can be done in stages and made in advance. Second, because the end product is so worth it: lemon zest and garlic in the millet topping meet the earthy cinnamon and tanginess of the tempeh tomato sauce meet the sweet richness of the béchamel. It’s really that good.

In terms of technique and pacing, the tempeh sauce can be made ahead of time and even frozen. It would also be delicious on pasta or, if you must, as a lasagna filling. The millet itself can also be made a few days or hours before assembling the final product. I recommend mixing the millet topping ingredients together while your tempeh is cooking or reheating on the day you plan to make the moussaka. You can make béchamel up to a day in advance and refrigerate it.

Not Your Bubbe’s Moussaka

Ingredients:
1 onion, diced
2-3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
3-4 cloves garlic, minced
1 ½ cups tempeh, grated or crumbled
2 tablespoons tomato paste
½ cup red wine
1 cinnamon stick
3.5 cups canned tomato sauce
Sea salt, to taste

2 cups cooked millet
½ cup pine nuts, toasted and chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
1-2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
½ tablespoon dried oregano
1 tablespoon fresh mint, minced
1 tablespoon fresh parsley, minced
1 lemon, zested
Sea salt and pepper, to taste

2 ½ tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 cups milk, boiling hot
1 teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon nutmeg

2 pounds eggplant, sliced on mandolin
1 pound zucchini, sliced on mandolin
Sea salt
Olive oil to grease the pan

For the tempeh tomato sauce:

1. Heat olive oil in a large saucepot over medium-low heat. Add diced onion and salt to the pot, sauté until translucent, about 5 minutes.

2. Add minced garlic and grated tempeh to the onions and cook another 4-6 minutes, allowing tempeh to color. Stir in tomato paste and wine until incorporated.

3. Add tomato sauce and cinnamon stick. Mix until incorporated and allow to simmer over low heat, stirring often to prevent the bottom from burning. Cook for another 40 minutes OR until the sauce becomes thick and reduces by about half.

For the millet topping:

1. While the sauce is cooking, in a medium bowl, mix cooked millet, pine nuts, olive oil, salt, pepper, garlic, oregano, mint, parsley, and zest using two forks. Set aside to top moussaka.

For the béchamel:

1. In a medium pan, heat the butter over medium-low heat until it is fully melted. Add flour and combine until smooth. Continue stirring constantly until the mixture is a light gold color, about 5-7 minutes.

2. Gradually add milk to the butter mixture and whisk until smooth. Bring to a boil. Cook for about 10 minutes, stirring constantly, then remove from heat. Season with salt and nutmeg.

For the moussaka:

1. Preheat oven to 350F.

2. Using a mandolin, thinly slice eggplant and zucchini lengthwise and keep in separate bowls, toss eggplant with sea salt.

3. Roast eggplant and zucchini on parchment lined sheet pan in oven for approximately 7 minutes OR until cooked through.

4. Remove them from pan and let cool.

5. Lightly oil a shallow 9×13 pan and layer moussaka:
a. 1 layer eggplant
b. 2 ½ – 3 cups tempeh tomato sauce
c. 1 layer zucchini
d. 2 ½ -3 cups tempeh tomato sauce
e. 1 layer eggplant
f. 1 ½ cups béchamel
g. Millet topping

6. Bake in a conventional oven at 350F for 20-25 minutes until heated throughout.

7. Broil for 3 minutes until crispy and golden. Remove from broiler let cool and serve.

Also try:

Not Your Bubbe’s Lag B’Omer S’mores

Not Your Bubbe’s Spelt Honey Challah

Not Your Bubbe’s Modern Gefilte Fish Fillet

The post Not Your Bubbe’s Shavuot Dish: Moussaka with Eggplant and Zucchini appeared first on Jewcy.

Among the many perks of attending my Jewish day school in Ohio was the school-wide color war known as Maccabiah. An artful blend of competition, education, and student leadership, it was the perfect way to celebrate spring’s arrival and, of course, Lag B’Omer—the 33rd day in the annual counting of the omer between Passover and Shavuot. I still remember my first year participating, dressed head-to-toe in green and cheering nonsensically in Hebrew. My cousin, a sixth grader, was one of our team captains and when we won, he lifted me on to his shoulders in celebration—I had never felt so cool in my seven years of life.

While its contemporary manifestation, which takes place this Sunday, is largely characterized by similar celebrations, mostly in the form of outdoor bonfires, Lag B’Omer has a complicated history. In the Bible, this period between Passover and Shavuot was marked by a barley offering made at the Temple in Jerusalem, which permitted ancient Jews to eat grains from the new harvest. In the first century, the omer period was characterized by a plague that decimated Rabbi Akiva’s students. There are various opinions, but either the deaths stopped on the 33rd day or there were only 33 days of death, but Lag B’Omer, or the letters lamud and gimmel which add up to 33 in gematria, was designated as a day of celebration.

But the Lag B’Omer traditions don’t stop there. After the death of thousands of his students, Rabbi Akiva chose to only teach five men; one of them, Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, the author of the Zohar, died on Lag B’Omer. To this day, per Shimon bar Yochai’s request, thousands converge on his grave in Meron to celebrate his life with bonfires, singing, and eating. The bonfire is said to be attributed to the idea that his spirituality was a light to the world that he left behind.

Though Lag B’Omer has plenty of stories behind it, unlike every other Jewish holiday, it doesn’t have much of a food tradition. Capitalizing on the festive spirit and bonfires, I’m going to start a new food tradition here and now: the Lag B’Omer s’more. Anyone who has gone camping knows the diversity of delicious foods that can come from cooking over an open fire. From assorted vegetables and cheese wrapped in tinfoil to hot dogs grilled on a stick, the possibilities are numerous and delightful. But, of course, the quintessential bonfire treat is the s’more.

There is a fine art to roasting the perfect marshmallow. I say art because there really is a range of tastes—some like it charred, others prefer a pale golden hue, and there are those who like a robust brown. A lot of people hate on Kosher marshmallows, but I’ve found that there’s little that can ruin the graham cracker-melted chocolate-toasted marshmallow combination. But there are certainly ways to take it to the next level. Peanut butter is a natural friend of the graham cracker and with all of the childhood memories coming up, the most fantastic innovation that came to mind: adding peanut butter and Oreo to the mix, a la Parent Trap. As if s’mores weren’t already sweet and sticky enough! The warmth of the marshmallows softens the peanut butter into a salty-sweet mess and the Oreos add extra crunch … and chocolate.

Not Your Bubbe’s Lag B’Omer S’more
Ingredients:
4 marshmallows, toasted
1 bar dark chocolate
8 graham crackers, broken in half
4 Oreos
Peanut butter, as desired

Assembly:

Method 1: Place one square of chocolate on half of a graham cracker and top with toasted marshmallow. On the other half of the graham cracker, spread a thick layer of peanut butter and sprinkle with crushed Oreos. Put the two halves together.

Method 2: Place one square of chocolate on half of a graham cracker and top with toasted marshmallow. Spread a thick layer of peanut butter on an Oreo. Put the Oreo, peanut butter face down, on top of the marshmallow.

Also try:

Not Your Bubbe’s Spelt Honey Challah

Not Your Bubbe’s Modern Gefilte Fish Fillet

Not Your Bubbe’s Kosher for Passover Flourless Cake

The post Not Your Bubbe’s Recipe: Peanut Butter Lag B’Omer S’mores appeared first on Jewcy.

According to the makers of Temp Tee Whipped Cream Cheese, people start experiencing “matzah fatigue” around the third day of Passover. At about the same time (if not sooner) they start dreaming of chametz. So now that Passover is hours behind us, it’s time to get elbow deep in the stuff you’ve been deprived of for eight whole days—and what better way to do that than with challah?

Challah making and bread baking is a tradition that spans millennia, but it’s a process that’s constantly being updated. From the development of new milling and grinding techniques to the commercialization of shelf stable yeast, breads are always changing their shape, color, and composition. According to Gil Marks in The Encyclopedia of Jewish Food, challah as we know it today—doughy, sweet, and made of white flour—is a fairly recent invention. For 2,000 years, the term challah actually referred to the small piece of dough that is taken out of each batch and burned.

Over the last several centuries, as Jews moved around the globe and experienced new cuisines and accessed new foods, the bread they served on Shabbat evolved. While historically, most Jews used the same bread for Shabbat and the rest of the week, some began to exclusively use white flour to make bread fit for royalty, in this case the Sabbath queen. This custom became so prevalent that some communities would make sure to provide white flour for poor families that could not afford the expensive ingredient.

The customs surrounding challah go beyond the recipes behind it. According to Marks, “In certain Sephardic communities, especially among Syrians, pieces of the Sabbath bread are tossed to the various diners, reflecting the concept that food actually comes from the Lord, not the host.” Ashkenazim typically slice their loaves with a knife. Some families developed unique braids and shapes in order to distinguish their loaves from others’ in the communal ovens. Some Jews sprinkle their loaves with seeds in an effort to recall the manna the Jews received in the dessert.

This Shabbat, the one that comes right after Passover, has it’s own particular challah custom, known as schlissel or key challah, albeit one that is observed by a small portion of the Jewish community. This custom stems from the tradition that the Israelites entered Israel around this time of year, at which point the manna stopped falling and they began subsisting on produce. To commemorate this and acknowledge that our key to sustenance is in God’s hands, there is a custom of baking challahs in the shape of a key, embedding an actual key into your loaf, or cutting the bread with a key.

To compensate for last week’s challah-less Shabbat, this challah recipe is unique for other reasons. In keeping with the latest trends of baking with whole grain flours, this dough is dominated by spelt flour. According to Kim Boyce in Good to the Grain: Baking with Whole Grain Flours, spelt is actually explicitly mentioned in Exodus because it was not affected by the 10 plagues. Compared to heavier grains like buckwheat, spelt is mild and a bit tart. It’s also very easy to work with, making it a good “gateway” whole grain flour.

Because it’s already a slightly sweet flour, this recipe calls for honey, which is a more earthy sweetener than white sugar. The dough bakes into beautiful loaves with a nice crust and soft insides. And to spice things up, and drawing inspiration from Deb Perelman’s fig, olive oil, and sea salt challah in The Smitten Kitchen Cookbook, this recipe also calls for a fig rosemary swirl inside the dough. The flavor and structure of the bread certainly don’t need the filling, but it takes an otherwise fairly standard challah to new heights—something you definitely deserve after a week of matzah and mediocre baked goods.

Not Your Bubbe’s Spelt Honey Challah with Fig Rosemary Swirl
Makes 3 large or 4 small loaves

Ingredients:
Dough
3 3/4 cups all purpose flour
1 ¾ cups warm water
3 packets active dry yeast
3 eggs
½ c oil
1/3 cup honey
3 cups spelt flour
1 tablespoon salt
sesame seeds, optional

Fig Rosemary filling
2 cup dried figs, stemmed and roughly chopped
¼ cup orange juice
1/8 tsp salt
½ cup water
½ tsp rosemary, finely chopped

Directions for dough in a stand mixer:

1. Mix yeast in the bowl with 1 cup all-purpose flour and 1 cup warm water. Allow the mixture to sit and puff up, about 15 minutes.

2. Add remaining ¾ cup warm water, 2 eggs, ½ cup oil, and 1/3 cup honey to the yeast mixture.

3. Add 1 tablespoon salt, 3 cups spelt flour, 2 cups all purpose flour. Turn the mixer on low for 5-10 minutes, until soft and smooth. You may need to add up to ¾ cups more of all-purpose flour.

4. Place the dough in an oil-coated bowl, cover with plastic wrap or a clean towel. Let the dough rise for two hours or until doubled in size.

Directions for kneading dough by hand:

1. Mix yeast in a bowl with 1 cup all-purpose flour and 1 cup warm water. Allow the mixture to sit and puff up, about 15 minutes.

2. Wisk in remaining ¾ cup warm water, 2 eggs, ½ cup oil, and 1/3 cup honey to the yeast mixture.

3. Add 1 tablespoon salt, 3 cups spelt flour, and 2 cups all-purpose flour and mix with a wooden spoon. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface to knead. Add reaming ¾ c AP flour gradually as you knead, if needed. Knead until soft and smooth, about 8-10 minutes.

4. Place the dough in an oil-coated bowl, cover with plastic wrap or a clean towel. Let the dough rise for two hours or until doubled in size.

Directions for fig rosemary filling:

1. In a small saucepan, combine figs, orange juice, salt, water, and rosemary. Let the mixture simmer over medium to medium-high heat for about 10 minutes, until the figs have softened.

2. Allow the figs to cool and then pulse in a food processor until the mixture has formed a paste.

Assembling the bread:

1. When the dough is done rising, divide the dough into desired number of loaves.

2. Roll the first portion out on a lightly floured surface into a rectangle that is about ¼ inch thick.

3. Smear the dough with the fig spread, leaving a 1-inch border on all sides.

4. Loosely roll the dough up, like a carpet. Fold the rolled dough in half and twist the sides to form a braid-like loaf. Repeat with the remaining dough.

5. Place loaves on two parchment-lined baking sheets. Cover with plastic wrap or a clean towel and allow the loaves to double in size once more.

6. Thirty minutes before baking, place the oven racks in the upper and lower third rungs of the oven, and preheat to 350°F.

7. Brush each loaf with an egg wash using the last egg. Sprinkle with sesame seeds if using.

8. Bake loaves for 30-40 minutes, until the top is a golden brown and the bottom sounds hollow when tapped.

Also try:

Not Your Bubbe’s Modern Gefilte Fish Fillet

Not Your Bubbe’s Kosher for Passover Flourless Cake

Not Your Bubbe’s Egg Salad Frittata

The post Not Your Bubbe’s Recipe: Spelt Honey Challah appeared first on Jewcy.

Since Passover is just a few days away, you may want to stop your Gchat conversation or pause that TED talk and run to the store to buy a 40-box variety pack of Manischewitz products. Seriously—these things run out fast. Remember the time there was a kosher for Passover margarine shortage? That’s such serious business that even the Wall Street Journal covered it. The good news (if this should ever happen again—God forbid!) is that you don’t actually need margarine to make a kosher for Passover cake. Besides, as I’ve said before, margarine is gross.

People spend so much time fussing over the myriad things they can’t eat during Passover (bread, pasta, oats …), but there are always the wonderful treats brought to us by science and the modern era: boxed cake mix. All you need to make those is some combination of water, oil, and eggs. But the fact is that those cakes just aren’t that good and just remind you of that list of things you can’t eat. Let’s face it: Duncan Hines may have perfected the brownie mix and the Mad Men of the 1940s and ‘50s may have convinced house wives that they didn’t need to feel guilty about using a mix, but the kosher for Passover version just doesn’t quite cut it.

Which is OK, because there’s a secret that those advertising gurus wanted to hide from the world: It doesn’t actually take that much more time to make a cake from scratch than it does from a box. A 1951 study at Michigan State University concluded that it saves 13 minutes and 21 seconds. Thirteen minutes isn’t insignificant, but shouldn’t we have to work a little for taste and quality?

And when Passover rolls around, it always amazes me that people who spend 51 weeks of the year conscientiously checking for organic labels and scanning ingredient lists and eating local suddenly throw these principles out with the (insane quantities of) pre-Passover trash. It wasn’t until last year that Whole Foods Market even tried to maintain their standards in their kosher for Passover section. A quick, not-at-all-scientific survey of Passover cake mixes reveals that the first ingredient seems to always be sugar, followed by shortening and glycerol and the catch-all “natural and artificial flavors.” Yum.

My brother has an April birthday and lives in fear that it will fall on Passover; the trauma of yet another gooey (or, conversely, dry) sponge cake is just too much. Passover’s so early this year that he doesn’t have to worry. But for all of the people out there with birthdays between March 25 and April 2—and, more importantly, for all of the people who just don’t want to go a week without cake—I have some important information: Your cake doesn’t have to come from a box and it doesn’t have to be bad.

Now, you may have heard that flourless chocolate cake is the savior of Passover dessert tables. And, sure, it’s delicious. But it’s also so boring! So surprise your guests with a twist on flourless: a citrus-flavored flourless cake. I recently went to one of my favorite bakeries in Chicago and sampled the lemon lavender pound cake they had cut up on the counter. It was a pretty life changing little cube of cake (okay, fine, I had two). This recipe aims to bring some of that life-changing goodness to your taste buds during a time when they might otherwise be feeling neglected.

This recipe is special for a few reasons. To start, sugar is not the primary ingredient. It is also pareve without involving any kind of fake butter product and therefore does not contribute to future margarine shortages (you will need something to grease the pan, though). It is gluten free, moist, and fairly light.

Once, sometime in early spring a few years ago, my mom stopped by my aunt’s house to pick something up. My aunt, who had never been much of a baker, asked her to try some brownies she had just made. My mom tasted it, thought about the brownies, and said, “These are the best Passover brownies I’ve ever had.” Unfortunately for both parties, it was not a Passover brownie recipe and my mother will never live the comment down. There will be no confusion about this lemon lavender flourless cake—people are just going to think it’s a great cake with no “for Passover” caveat.

Not Your Bubbe’s Kosher for Passover Citrus-Flavored Flourless Cake

Ingredients:
Cooking spray to grease the pan

For the cake:
4 eggs, separated and at room temperature
2 tablespoons lemon zest, packed
½ teaspoon dried lavender flowers
½ cup white sugar
1 ½ cup finely ground almond flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon white vinegar
Pinch of salt

For the glaze (optional):
1 ¼ cups powdered sugar
3 tablespoons water or milk substitute (you may need extra depending on desired consistency)
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
¼ teaspoon lavender (optional)

Special Equipment
9-inch springform pan (if you don’t have one, a 9-inch round cake pan works)
Parchment paper
Electric mixer (optional)

Some things to keep in mind: The easiest way to separate egg whites and yolks is while they’re cold, but after separating them give them a chance to reach room temperature before mixing them with the other ingredients. This will help give your cake more lift. While this cake isn’t the most challenging in terms of technique, it will require a few bowls and, ideally, an electric mixer. If you don’t have an electric mixer or you are making this cake on yom tov, don’t worry, it’s possible to do this by hand and the vinegar and salt will help; your arm will just get a bit of a work out! It is important that the almond meal be finely ground—the bigger the pieces of almond, the chewier the cake will be.

Directions:
1. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Grease a 9-inch pan and line the bottom with a round of parchment paper.

2. In a large bowl, beat the egg yolks, lemon zest, and ¼ cup of sugar until smooth.

3. In a separate bowl, mix the almond flour, lavender, and baking powder. Pour into the bowl with the egg yolks and mix until smooth.

4. Using an electric mixer and a clean bowl, beat the egg whites on a low speed and gradually increase. Once the egg whites start to become frothy, add the salt and vinegar. As the volume increases, gradually add the remaining ¼ cup of sugar while continuing to beat the egg whites. Beat until the mixture forms soft peaks.

5. Fold the egg whites into the almond mixture, one large scoop at a time. Blend using a wooden spoon or rubber spatula until thoroughly combined.

6. Scoop the batter into your prepared pan. Bake for 35 minutes. Do not open the oven during this time, since the cake is soufflé like and will deflate. Remove from the oven and let it cool in the pan. Use a knife to separate the cake from the sides of the pan before releasing the springform sides or taking the cake out of your pan.

7. To make the (optional) glaze, mix the liquid into the powdered sugar. Add more liquid, one tablespoon at a time as needed to reach desired consistency. Add vanilla and lavender (if using). Drizzle over the cooled cake before serving.

Also try:

Not Your Bubbe’s Egg Salad Frittata

Not Your Bubbe’s Purim Poppy Seed Scones

Not Your Bubbe’s Caribbean Matzoh Ball Soup

***

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The post Not Your Bubbe’s Recipe: Kosher for Passover Citrus-Flavored Flourless Cake appeared first on Jewcy.

Kadesh. U’rchatz. Karpas. Scratch that. Wrong seder. While the Passover seder is my favorite ritualized meal, I’ve always had a soft spot for the Tu B’Shevat seder. Tu B’Shevat, which is coming up this Friday, not only provides a space to celebrate our inner Jewish tree-hugger, but it also has good food and no matzah. Unlike Passover’s seder, this one does not have a set rabbinic text, so over the centuries, people have come up with a number of innovative ways to commemorate the holiday. From eating significant fruits to reading passages about Jewish environmentalism to trying out Jewish meditation, there is a wide range of ways to celebrate the birthday of the trees. Personally, I’m all for everyone standing on their chairs and yelling, “I am the Lorax. I speak for the trees!”

The 15th day of the month Shevat, or Tu B’Shevat, was initially a place marker used to remind farmers to bring crops from their fruit trees to the Temple. It shows up in the mishnah in tractate Rosh Hashannah during a discussion of the four Jewish new year celebrations—did you know that there were four? Me neither. There is a new year for kings and a new year for animal tithes in addition to the one that comes 10 days before Yom Kippur and Tu B’Shevat, which was considered the new year for planting and tithing.

After the Temple’s destruction, the holiday was revived by Kabbalists in Tzfat, who tapped into the mystical essence of nature using fruit to symbolize our relationship with God. They created a structure for the Tu B’Shevat seder, including four glasses of wine and 10 different fruits, believing proper observance would bring the world closer to tikkun. Stemming from their use of fruit, it became customary in some parts of Europe to eat 15 different fruits on Tu B’Shevat, and other communities celebrated the day by eating a fruit for the first time in the last year. The Talmud also uses Tu B’Shevat as the literal birthday of the trees, counting a tree’s lifespan by the number of Tu B’Shevat’s it has witnessed.

A long-standing tradition of Tu B’Shevat entails eating Israel’s seven species, which include wheat, barley, grapes, figs, pomegranates, olives (often consumed in the form of oil), and dates. I have clear memories of Tu B’Shevat when I was a student in Jewish day school. The whole school would file into the “festively” decorated cafeteria toward the end of the school day. There would inevitably be a dramatization of Honi and the carob tree, an interpretive scarf dance about the life of a tree, and an eagerly shrieked rendition of Eretz Zavat Chalav U’Devash.

After some supplemental readings on the land of milk and honey and a poem about the New Year of the Trees, we would (finally) turn to the partitioned Styrofoam plates before us and, after reciting a plethora of blessings, gingerly taste the figs and dry crackers, wishing we were actually eating the honey we’d spent the last hour talking about.

For this year’s Tu B’Shevat celebration, I wanted to use all of the species, but I actually wanted it to feel a little more grown up and make the food taste good, so instead of nibbling at each ingredient on its own, I’ve put together three recipes that combine them in a way that showcases the wonderful flavors in each and form a cohesive meal. Start the meal with a hearty winter salad and warm hunks of grape focaccia dipped in rich Israeli olive oil. Not totally sold on putting grapes on your focaccia? Fulfill your grape requirement with a nice glass of Israeli wine.

Then enjoy flavorful, juicy roasted chicken with figs and olives. If you want to keep your meal vegetarian, use the focaccia as a vehicle for homemade hummus and fig and olive tapenade. The barley and date recipe below is inspired by Turkish cuisine and uses pomegranate molasses to bring a tangy flavor to this grain salad that can be served warm or room temperature. If you’re not feeling the pomegranate molasses, throw some pomegranate seeds in with the dates instead. Be aware that non-pearled barley takes a very long time to cook. You can, of course, substitute another whole grain for the barley, but then you would be down one of the seven species! Incidentally, barley is the grain of the month for February, so you would be getting a jump-start on that celebration if you go with this recipe.

Don’t forget to add a new fruit to your meal—ideally something grown in Israel that you haven’t eaten in the last year—so you can say the shehechyanu.

Not Your Bubbe’s Grape Focaccia

Ingredients:

1 ⅔ cups lukewarm water
1 (¼ ounce) package active dry yeast
5 cups unbleached all-purpose flour, plus additional for kneading
¼ cup plus 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided
1 tablespoon coarse sea salt
1 ½ cups halved grapes, seeded
1 teaspoon fresh rosemary, roughly chopped
1 ½ tablespoons coarse sugar
2 teaspoons coarse sea salt

Directions:

1. In a large bowl, gently combine the water and yeast until the water becomes murky and let it stand for 5-10 minutes. Add 5 cups flour, ¼ cup olive oil, and 1 tablespoon salt and mix vigorously with a wooden spoon until the ingredients form a dough.

2. Lightly flour the counter and turn out the dough to begin kneading by hand, until the dough is soft and smooth, but still sticky. Add flour as you go to prevent the dough from sticking to the counter, but remember that it should be a sticky dough. This should not take more than ten minutes.

3. Clean out your large bowl with warm water, dry, and lightly oil it. Transfer the dough to the bowl, and let it rise, covered with plastic wrap, at warm room temperature, until dough has doubled, about 1 to 1 ½ hours.

4. Generously oil a large (13″x17″) rimmed baking sheet or lightly oil a baking sheet lined with a silpat mat. Turn dough onto the baking sheet, and use your fingers (you may want to dip them in olive oil first) to spread the dough evenly to fill the sheet, letting the dough rest periodically. The dough will be dimpled from your fingertips–this is the rustic look we’re going for! Once the dough fills most of the whole baking sheet, let it rise again, covered with kitchen towels, until it doubles, about 1 hour.

5. Preheat the oven to 450°. Brush the top of the dough with the remaining olive oil and sprinkle grapes, rosemary, coarse sugar and coarse sea salt evenly over the dough. Bake in the middle of the oven for 25-30 minutes, until the bread is golden and and the grapes are bubbling. Immediately slide the focaccia from the baking sheet onto a cooling rack. Cool slightly and serve warm or at room temperature.

Not Your Bubbe’s Roasted Chicken with Figs and Olives

Ingredients:

8 ounces dried mission figs, stems removed
1 cup green pimento-stuffed olives
½ cup balsamic vinegar
¼ cup olive oil
1 chicken, cut in eight
1 lemon, zested
Cracked black pepper, to taste

Special equipment:

Food processor

Directions:

1. In the food processor, combine figs and olives and pulse until thoroughly minced. Add ¼ cup of the balsamic vinegar and run the food processor for 15 more seconds.

2. Drizzle some of the olive oil (reserve the rest) into the bottom of a baking pan and arrange the chicken, skin side up. Spread the fig and olive mixture over the chicken, tucking some under the skin so that it is nestled against the meat. Pour remaining olive oil over the chicken and allow it to marinate, covered, in the refrigerator for at least one hour and up to four.

3. When you are ready to cook the chicken, heat the oven to 350° Fahrenheit.

4. Pour the remaining oil and lemon zest over the chicken. Add the cracked pepper. Roast chicken in the oven for about 40 minutes, or until the skin has browned and the meat has cooked through.

Not Your Bubbe’s Barley with Dates and Pomegranate Molasses

Ingredients:

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 cup pearled barley, rinsed
2 cups water, salted
⅓ cups dates, chopped
⅓ cup scallions, thinly sliced
¼ cup parsley, chopped
¼ cup mint, chopped
2 teaspoons harissa, optional
½ cup pomegranate juice or 3 tablespoons pomegranate molasses
Juice of ½ lemon
salt and pepper to taste

Directions:

1. In a large saucepan, heat the olive oil. Add the pearled barley and cook over moderate heat, stirring, until lightly toasted and fragrant, 3 to 5 minutes. Add the water and bring to a boil. Cover and cook over very low heat until the water is absorbed and the grains are tender, about 30 minutes. Fluff the grains with a fork.

2. To make the pomegranate molasses, pour ½ cup of pomegranate juice in a small pot and bring to a low boil over medium-high heat. Allow the juice to simmer until reduced by at least half and has become a thick syrup, about 6-8 minutes. Remove from the stove and allow the syrup to cool. The molasses can be refrigerated in a sealed container for up to one month.

3. When the barley has cooled, add the dates, scallions, parsley, mint, harissa (if using), pomegranate molasses, and lemon to the bowl and toss to combine. Add salt and pepper to taste and pomegranate molasses or lemon juice as needed.

Also try:

Not Your Bubbe’s Downton Abbey Viewing Party

Not Your Bubbe’s Almond Olive Oil Cake

Not Your Bubbe’s Indian Spiced Latkes With Apple Chutney

The post Not Your Bubbe’s Tu B’Shevat Seder appeared first on Jewcy.

We’re an agonizing four days away from the season premier of Downton Abbey on PBS. That is, agonizing for those of us who live in the United States and are planning on watching the new episode legally (the season already aired in England). Just thinking about the swelling intro music is enough to make my heart palpitate in anticipation. The long months since the end of the dazzling second season have left (American) viewers anxiously awaiting news of their favorite characters—will Matthew and Mary finally get married or will there be more obstacles to their bliss? Will Bates be freed and reunited with Anna? Will Thomas ever stop being a pest? My guess—three resounding No’s.

But here at Jewcy, the answers to these questions stopped mattering when the producers announced that Shirley MacLaine would be brought onto the show as Lady Cora Grantham’s mother in Season 3. Beyond the excitement of what will surely be an epic battle of wills between MacLaine’s nouveau riche American Martha Levinson and Maggie Smith’s Dowager Violet Grantham, I’m hoping MacLaine brings the Jewish twist we’ve all been waiting for since historian Jonathan Sarna outed Lady Grantham’s Jewish roots (as a proud Cincinnatian, I’m particularly pleased with the connection). The cast of characters inhabiting Downton Abbey certainly spans the gamut of personalities, but it is most definitely missing a good dose of Jewish guilt, something we’ve been saying for some time now, even if we were wrong about the “no Jewish characters” bit.

What better way to honor Downton Abbey’s return to U.S. primetime programming than hosting a themed viewing party for the season premier on Jan. 6? Now, I know Downton Abbey viewing parties have happened before. But this time, it’s different. To date, all of the many meals and parties featured on the show have been elaborate, multi-course affairs, but none of them were particularly Kosher-friendly. Let’s imagine the season premier is going to start with Cora preparing—okay, ordering—a lavish, Kosher (style, at the very least) feast for her mother. Why shouldn’t the fan club join in on the fun?

Since this menu is for a crowd watching television, we’re going to cut down the number of courses and fancy forks, which are difficult to navigate while wearing a fitted gown and perching on the armrest of a crowded couch. Incidentally, the lords and ladies of Downton will probably be trimming a bit from their meals this season, too, given the changing economic and labor structures. As we saw in Season 2, World War I took the lives of many servants and those who returned weren’t necessarily interested in returning to their former roles. With fewer hands on deck and rationing of imported and luxury food items, preparing elaborate, 20-plus course dinners was less feasible. British households began looking for more economical approaches to cooking—both in time and ingredients. While earlier periods in British cuisine were butter-based, by the 20th century, British cooks were using suet and dripping, according to food historian Stephen Mennell. You’re welcome to use schmaltz or another animal fat, but the recipes below will be slightly less authentic and based on olive and vegetable oils to appeal to the modern appetites of your guests. There was also an increased emphasis on dishes that could be repurposed, leading to the popularity of recipes like shepherd’s pie and the use of breadcrumbs.

As with any fine meal, this one should start with soup. Creamed soups were very popular during this post-war time period, and, lucky for us, it’s pretty simple to make them dairy-free if you decide to serve meat. Serve your soup in a shooter to whet your guests’ palates and make it easy to drink while watching Edith’s desperate attempts to find a husband.

To add some texture and protein to the evening, consider serving roasted chicken or brisket on toast points. Make sure to add a dollop of sauce, such as horseradish sauce, as that was the main vehicle for flavor and demonstration of sophistication. If you want to round out your meal with something green, consider making Brussels sprout lollipops. I’m fairly certain the Grantham’s would never have considered skewering their sprouts with toothpicks, but roasted Brussels sprouts were incredibly popular in the 1920s England, since they were easy to grow and prepare and the population was becoming increasingly health-conscious.

A warm slice of apple galette is the perfect way to finish this culinary journey. Pudding (known to us Americans as dessert) was essential to high quality entertaining and apple galette is a sure-fire crowd pleaser. It’s delicate, earthy, not too sweet, and easy to put together. Now with this recipe we run into the issue of the fats again. Assuming you want to make this without dairy, the obvious contemporary substitute for butter would be margarine. However, I’m on a one-woman (maybe two?) crusade to eradicate the use of margarine in Jewish cooking and the recipe I’ve included below favors coconut oil instead.

And don’t forget to pair your meal with a glass of champagne, a hot toddy, or a cocktail inspired by one of the Grantham sisters. Cheers! To a season full of intrigue, scheming, romance, and drama.

Not Your Bubbe’s Cream of Parsnip Soup

Ingredients:

2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
2 medium leeks, chopped, white and light green parts only
6 cloves garlic, sliced
6 parsnips, peeled and cut into 1-inch pieces, stored in lemon water until needed
6 sprigs thyme, wrapped in cheesecloth
6 cups vegetable stock, see recipe
4 tsp lemon juice (about 1 lemon)
1/3 cup almond milk
2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp fresh ground black pepper

Special equipment:

Immersion blender, cheesecloth

Directions:

1. Heat oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add leeks and garlic, and sauté five minutes, or until leeks are softened and translucent.

2. Add parsnips, thyme (wrapped in cheesecloth), and stock. Cover and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer, partially covered for 20-25 minutes until parsnips are very soft.

3. Remove thyme and blend soup in blender until smooth. Return to pot and stir in lemon juice, almond milk, salt, and pepper to taste.

Not Your Bubbe’s Brussels Sprout Lollipops

Ingredients:

1 lb. Brussels sprouts
2 tbs olive oil
1 tbs honey
salt and pepper to taste

Special equipment:

Toothpicks

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 375°. Toss the Brussels sprouts with the olive oil, honey, salt, and pepper.

2. Roast until tender (about 30 minutes) and stick with tooth picks.

Not Your Bubbe’s Apple Galette

Ingredients:

1 3/4 cups unbleached all purpose flour or whole wheat pastry flour
1/4 tsp salt
3/4 cup coconut oil at room temperature
2 tbsp (or more) ice water
1 1/2 lbs Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored, cut into 1/8-inch-thick slices
1 tbsp lemon juice
4 tbsp sugar, divided
1 tbsp almond milk

Special equipment:

Food processor, parchment paper

Directions:

1. Blend the flour and salt in a food processor. Add coconut oil and pulse, using on/off turns, until mixture resembles coarse meal. Add 2 tablespoons ice water and blend just until dough begins to clump together, adding more ice water by teaspoonfuls if dough is dry.

2. Gather dough into ball; flatten into disk. Wrap in plastic and chill 1 hour.

Steps 1 and 2 can be done two days ahead. Keep dough chilled. Soften slightly at room temperature before rolling out.

3. Roll out the dough between sheets of parchment paper to 1/8-inch-thick round, 14 inches in diameter. Remove top sheet of parchment. Using bottom sheet as aid, transfer dough on parchment to large unrimmed baking sheet. Chill for 15 minutes.

4. Preheat oven to 450°F. Combine apple slices, 2 tablespoons sugar, and lemon juice in medium bowl; toss to blend. Sprinkle 1 tablespoon of sugar over prepared crust. Arrange apple slices in concentric circles, overlapping slightly. Using parchment as aid, fold plain crust border up over apples, pinching any cracks in crust. Brush crust with milk. Sprinkle crust edges and apples with remaining 1 tablespoons sugar.

5. Bake galette 20 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 375°F and continue baking until crust is golden, about 30 minutes longer. Remove from oven. Slide long thin knife between parchment and galette. Let stand at least 10 minutes. Cut into wedges and serve warm or at room temperature.

Also try:

Not Your Bubbe’s Almond Olive Oil Cake

Not Your Bubbe’s Indian Spiced Latkes With Apple Chutney

Not Your Bubbe’s Southern Chili Cholent

The post Not Your Bubbe’s Recipe: ‘Downton Abbey’ Viewing Party Edition appeared first on Jewcy.

There’s something special about sitting around once a year and simply being grateful. Just as the pilgrims observed the day to give thanks for their safe arrival in a new world, Jewish immigrants and their descendants can, and have, easily latched onto that idea. While not all Jews in America observe the holiday, my family Thanksgiving has always been seen as a chance to show our pride in being American.

Like countless other Eastern European Jews, my great grandfather wanted to leave his home and move to the United States. He made a pit-stop in Havana, Cuba to wait for his visa, but quickly fell in love with the country. He and the rest of my family stayed until Fidel Castro came into power and then they finally headed over to Miami (with a short detour in Brooklyn).

There are small traits that mark my family as new Americans and descendants of immigrants. First, we take voting very seriously. Second, we have a history of fairly traditional views on gender roles and curfews. Third, like every good immigrant family, we treasure our culinary inheritance. At least once a week, usually on Shabbat, we feast on a classic dish from Cuba, Romania, or Hungary. But no meal fuses these two parts of my family’s story like Thanksgiving dinner.

My whole extended family eats Shabbat dinner together at least once or twice a month. We rotate houses, and thus cooks and cuisines, but the format is basically the same. When Thanksgiving comes around, we gather around the table and awkwardly wait for Kiddush to start before realizing that it’s not, in fact, Shabbat.

In researching her book, Jewish Cooking in America, Joan Nathan interviewed a number of Jewish Cubans (also known as Jewbans), who regularly returned to the theme of Thanksgiving, the “real melting pot.” A typical Jewish-Cuban Thanksgiving “includes a roasted turkey as the centerpiece surrounded by cranberry sauce, plantains, rice, black beans … with pumpkin pie for dessert.” This is more or less a description of nearly every Thanksgiving I’ve ever celebrated (at least, the ones I can remember).

Like the typical American Thanksgiving, turkey is the main entree, but this is no ordinary American turkey. It’s not carved at the table with a flourish or deep fried. It’s not dry and sandpapery, doesn’t require greasy gravy, thick with fat. So maybe it’s not as photogenic as those whole glistening birds that belong in a Norman Rockwell painting, but it is juicy, flavorful, and a star in its own right.

Using citrus juice and carving the turkey half-way through the cooking process allows the turkey to retain flavor and moisture. Cutting the turkey in the kitchen also adds a secret reward—there is nothing so delicious as using your fingers to pick bits of meat straight off the bone. Plus, this is one of those rare dishes that actually tastes better after being defrosted and reheated, so you can make it in advance without panicking. It’s also great on a sandwich for lunch the next day. I think the pilgrims would have been impressed with that kind of thrift.

Not Your Bubbe’s Cuban Turkey
Serves 8-10 people

Ingredients

15 lb whole turkey
1 tbs Lawry’s season salt (enough to cover surface of turkey)
1 tsp paprika
1/4 cup fresh-squeezed lime juice (about 2 limes)
1/4 cup fresh-squeezed lemon juice (about 2 lemons)
1/2 cup orange juice
1/2 cup vino seco (white cooking wine)
4 cloves garlic, chopped

Special Equipment

Cooking bag

Directions:

1. Heat oven to 350 degrees.

2. Wash turkey and season inside and out with Lawry’s and paprika. Place turkey in a cooking bag.

3. Mix lemons, limes, orange juice, and wine (about two cups total) and pour over and inside the turkey. Rub garlic over turkey and leave the pieces under the skin.

4. Cook for about two and a half hours (or follow directions on cooking bag based on turkey’s weight). Then take the turkey out of the bag and cut the legs while still hot so that the skin does not stick. Slice the entire turkey and place in a large pan. Pour liquid through a colander and over the turkey.

5. Cook for one more hour, covered. Continue to cook, uncovered, for 15 minutes.

Also try:

Not Your Bubbe’s Stuffed Cabbage Kugel

Not Your Bubbe’s Squash Pie

Not Your Bubbe’s Kasha Mac and Cheese

The post Not Your Bubbe’s Recipe: Cuban Thanksgiving Turkey appeared first on Jewcy.

Maybe you haven’t heard, but it is officially the time of year when we are bombarded by pumpkin-flavored seasonal treats. While this is a largely seasonal phenomenon, in certain Jewish circles the reach of squash pie knows no bounds.

I had never heard of this dish until I got to college. Our first week there, we were all trying to make friends and play nice, so when a few girls decided to put together a Shabbat dinner in the dorm, somehow it became a 50-person meal. A few people pitched in to make chicken, I made a ton of green beans (which became my assignment for the rest of the year); there was challah and grape juice. But as I looked around the room checking out people’s food so I wouldn’t have to remember their names, I noticed that squished onto paper plates between the chicken and the green beans was a slice of something bright orange.

The mystery food, of course, was squash pie. I’m still not sure if it’s because my home was too traditional or not traditional enough, but as far as I could tell pies were—and still are—dessert foods. My dad grew up in a meat-and-potatoes household, where every dinner had at least two vegetables complementing the plate. My mom’s home cuisine was a fusion of her varied heritage—Cuban with dashes Hungarian and Romanian.

My childhood was basically a mix of both—we always had two vegetables and something green, but not quite so “all-American” since instead of meat loaf the entree was usually albondigas or chicken paprikash. In other words, squash pie did not factor into weekly menu plans. While the dish is made from vegetables, these veggies are loaded up with margarine and brown sugar and plopped into a graham cracker crust. Last time I checked, sweet potato pie was a dessert—so why isn’t squash pie? We’ve already covered how we feel about serving dessert as a side dish.

But that’s not to say you can’t have a little sweetness with your meal. And certainly the idea of a baked custard or pudding side dish has a long history at Jewish dinner tables. To make this dish fit in with the main course, eliminate the crust (or at least replace the graham cracker with your favorite savory crust). Next, the margarine and sugar have to go. In order to appease those of you who are certainly cringing at the desecration of this sweet treat, this recipe takes squash pie in an entirely new direction by giving it a Mexican spin and placing it squarely in “side-dish territory.” Honey is commonly used as a sweetener in Mexican cuisine and here it is used to provide smoothness and balance to the final product. The recipe also calls for a variety of traditional Mexican spices, such as cumin and oregano. This warm and whole-heartedly fall food is now ready to share a plate with your chicken. If you want to carry the theme out, pair the squash dish with a chicken cooked in mole sauce. Or, if you really need to have a pie, put it in your favorite crust and serve it for dessert.

Not Your Bubbe’s Squash Pie
Serves 6

Ingredients:

2 pounds winter squash, peeled and cooked
2 eggs, beaten
½ cup whole wheat pastry flour
¼ cup honey
1 teaspoon cumin
½ teaspoon chili powder
¼ teaspoon dried oregano
¼ teaspoon cinnamon
salt and pepper, to taste

Directions:

1. Heat the oven to 350F. Spray a 9-inch baking dish with nonstick spray.

2. In a medium bowl, mash or blend the cooked squash.

3. Add eggs, flour, honey, cumin, chili powder, oregano, cinnamon, salt, and pepper. Mix until combined.

4. Pour batter into the prepared baking dish. Sprinkle with cinnamon and a drizzle of honey.

5. Bake uncovered for 30-40 minutes until the mixture has set and it is beginning to turn gold/brown.

Also try:

Not Your Bubbe’s Kasha Mac and Cheese

Not Your Bubbe’s Honey Chiffon Cake

Not Your Bubbe’s Kibbeh Agemono

The post Not Your Bubbe’s Recipe: Squash Pie appeared first on Jewcy.

Borscht is a nasty sounding word. With five consonants crushed together at the end, it makes me think of a hearty sneeze or an irate Israeli telling her students to be quiet (shtok!). It’s also nasty by association—how many American-born Jews would say they find oddly bright-colored food appetizing?

In the last few decades, borscht has quietly slipped off the High Holiday menu, but it was once a crucial component of Jewish culinary influence in the United States. Like bagels and whitefish salad, borscht wasn’t associated with Jewish cuisine until throngs of Eastern European Jews arrived on Ellis Island and concentrated on the Lower East Side of Manhattan.

Initially, this iconic beet soup had nothing to do with beets. As it turns out, the word “borscht” comes from the Old Slavonic word “brsh,” which referred to a soup made of chunks of a white root vegetable. It was basically an “everything in the fridge” soup–bits of vegetables, bones, greens, and anything else lying around. It came from the cold northern regions of Europe, where meals were largely comprised of tough bread and starchy tubers. Gil Marks explains that peasants in this region used “sours”—pickles, sour cream, and borscht—to add flavor to their meals. Thought it might not have been known at the time, fermented foods like sours help boost the immune system and protect our bodies from invading organisms. When sweet, earthy beets became popular and began to dominate the soup’s ingredients, cooks started adding vinegar or fermented beet juice in order to keep the traditional sour flavor intact.

As borscht made its global journey, different bits were picked up or left off along the way. The Slavic version included meat, but the dish was almost always served with a dollop of sour cream, so Jews developed a vegetarian iteration. Since the vegetarian recipe was essentially beets and onions with vinegar and sour cream, the soup became a distinct pinkish purple color. Like its Eastern European cousin the blintz, by the time borscht had spent a few years in Manhattan it was being mass produced and sold in jars.

Here’s the thing, though: somewhere between borscht’s commercialization and the filming of Dirty Dancing, people stopped liking borscht. Maybe it was the jars or the sweetness from added sugar; either way, borscht somehow disappeared. But here we are in the 21st century and everyone loves beets (seriously: beets are so hot right now).

So I propose we take borscht back to its roots, no pun intended. Let’s celebrate the star of this show—the beet—by cooking it in season. A friend of mine has a small urban homestead here in Chicago, and last week she came by and dumped a bag full of pretty little white and pink beets into my very willing arms. These were some happy-looking beets, begging to be treated with love and respect. This salad is inspired by borscht, celebrating its many components with beets, pickled onions, and a little sprinkle of dairy on top. But unlike the smooth soup, the texture provided by the roughly chopped vegetables diminishes the creepiness of their color.


Not Your Bubbe’s Borscht Salad

Ingredients:

3 cups washed, peeled, and diced beets
½ medium onion, peeled and diced
2 tablespoons pickling or Kosher salt
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 teaspoon sugar
¼ cup lemon juice
1 tablespoon miso
⅓ cup extra virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper, to taste
Fresh burrata or goat cheese, crumbled (optional)
Chives, minced

Directions:

1. Bring a large pot of salted water to boil. Add beets and continue boiling until fork tender. Set aside to cool.

2. While the beets are boiling and cooling, place diced onions in a bowl and add salt, vinegar, and sugar. Place a plate or flat object in the bowl directly on top of the onions and put a weight on it. Let it sit for at least 20 minutes.

3. Whisk together lemon juice, miso, and olive oil. Add salt and pepper to taste.

4. When the beets are cold or at room temperature and the onions are pickled, toss the beets and onions in a bowl with the dressing. Fold in the cheese (if using) and chives.

Also try:

Not Your Bubbe’s Deconstructed Baba Ghanoush

Not Your Bubbe’s Pistachio Mandel Bread

Not Your Bubbe’s Savory Cranberry Crunch

The post Not Your Bubbe’s Recipe: Borscht Salad appeared first on Jewcy.