Here’s how to make some amazing #trans challah (as well as non-binary, intersex, and rainbow) this #PRIDE month, and any month.

1. Start with your favorite challah recipe, but the interwebs have countless recipes suit any dietary need like whole grain, vegan, or gluten freedom. There’s a challah out there for everyone, the way there’s a gender identity for everyone, even if it isn’t one you’ve ever encountered before.

2. For bold and solid rainbow colors, split your dough up while mixing into separate bowls and add food coloring into each mixture. For lighter, softer, marbled colors, which works great specifically for the trans flag, mix the dough fully. Only add in a drop or two of color at a time and keep kneading it, until the color appears consistently throughout. It’s kind of like hormone replacement therapy; a little goes a long way. Add drops of red and purple to make pink, and use blue very sparingly to keep it light.

Note to divide your challah up in the correct proportions: Trans flags have five stripes, so the one bowl that stays white should have half as much dough as the other two that will get pink and blue. For the pride rainbow, six equal portions can be used.

3a. (For sweet Challah) Transgender challah, like the people it represents, should be extra sweet on the inside, under that crispy shell the world gives us. As you form your strands to braid, roll in dried cranberries, raisins, or why not both? Add as many as you like to each strand until the rolls are smooth again. They should be secure within the dough strands, not clinging to the outside. Make a dusting of cinnamon sugar along the table, and roll your strands in that next.

3b. You can also make a savory transgender challah swapping out the cinnamon-sugar and raisins for garlic powder, sesame seeds, and lots of onion flakes. Pride, like challah, is best when it embraces all of our senses and tastes. It is Jewish tradition to place two challahs on every Shabbat table, to commemorate the extra portions God sustained us with over the sabbath, so one you can make one the main course and another for dessert.

4. Braiding of any 5 stranded challah requires a little thinking, as compared to a three or six strand, but the basic pattern is three strands over then two back and repeat. If you make a mistake, it will still look and taste awesome. When you are done, fold each of the ends under and place it either onto a flat plan or a bread-loaf tray.

5. A special part of consecrating kosher challah is to set aside a small piece of dough from each batch to burn. For transgender challah, and any pride challah, we intentionally take from both the uncolored and colored dough, to remind us that the queer community both visibly and remaining in closets.

6. (It’s part of the recipe, so you have to do it!) Share with friends and family, celebrating whomever they love and however they identify! Spread the light of Shabbat unto our world by affirming that as Jews, queers, and allies, that asserting our own and ensuring others’ freedom of expression, is the greatest expression of freedom there is. Shabbat Shalom!

Photos courtesy of the author.

The post Make Your Challah TRANSGENDER This Pride! appeared first on Jewcy.

Stuffed monkey (Jewish Lond.). A very pleasant close almond biscuit. Now the confectioner exchanges his stuffed monkeys, and his bolas… for unleavened palavas, etc.—Zangwill, Children of the Ghetto.

I had never heard of a “stuffed monkey,” so obviously I had to find out how to make it for myself. I’ve since received requests to share, so here it is: A stuffed monkey.

The recipe seems to come from Sephardic Dutch Jews (they would have originally been from Portugal) living in England. It’s sweet, but not rich, and serves like a tart or a pie. The above-cited 1902 book Children of the Ghetto references it as a “contemporary confectionary,” though I found a reference to it by name in as early as 1882. So, now you know exactly what to serve at your Jewish steampunk tea party!

In regards to the weird name (yuck, it does not make you think of an appetizing pastry), the “stuffed” is a reference to the nature of the dessert.  As for “monkey?” There are multiple theories, including that the family that popularized it was called Monnickendam, or that it comes from the Arabic for stuffed: “makhshi.”

The recipe below is a cobbled together version of three that I found online: From Cook It Simply,  Jewish Mother Cooking, and The Vintage Cookbook Trials (which took its recipe from Florence Greenberg’s 1967 British Jewish cookbook):

For the crust:

• 2 cups and 2 tbsp. flour
• 1/2 tsp. salt
• 1 tsp. ground cinnamon
• 1 stick of butter
• 2 eggs, lightly beaten
• 1/2 cup brown sugar
• ½ tsp. vanilla (optional)

For the filling:

• The peel of one large orange
• 1/2 cup golden raisins (or try dark raisins or dried cherries)
• 1 1/3 cup chopped/slivered almonds (feel free to experiment with other nuts)
• 1 ½ tbsp. brown sugar
• ½ tsp. cinnamon
• 3 tbsp. melted butter
• 1 egg yolk (save the white for glazing)

For the glaze:

• 1 egg white
• handful of sliced/slivered almonds

DIRECTIONS:

1. Sift the flour, salt, and cinnamon into a bowl, and rub in the butter until mixture resembles breadcrumbs.

2. Stir in the eggs, sugar, and vanilla, and knead into a smooth dough.

3. Divide the dough into two sections. Wrap each half in plastic and refrigerate for at least 20 minutes.

4. Preheat oven to 375°F.

5. Combine all the ingredients for the filling in a bowl and mix well. Use a food processor to make the mixture paste-like. Don’t worry about it being smooth; it’s fine to have bits of peel, almonds, raisins, etc., visible.

6. Lightly grease an 8″ pie or other baking tin

7. Roll flat and spread one of the dough pieces out into the bottom of the pan.

8. Spread filling over the dough, then roll out the other piece of dough and lay it over the filling.

9. Pinch edges together so the filling doesn’t leak out (it helps to smooth out cracks with a teaspoon of water). Brush top of dough with the egg white mixture and generously sprinkle with the almonds.

10. Bake for 30 minutes, or until golden-brown. Let cool and serve!

Enjoy, and comment below or tweet us if you try it out!

Featured image credit: Wikimedia 

The post What the Heck is a Stuffed Monkey? appeared first on Jewcy.

The respective flavors of my parents’ mixed marriage were never more apparent than during Passover. Usually the holiday dishes of my mother’s Ashkenazi upbringing dominated the dining room table, but during Passover, my father’s Iraqi heritage reigned full-flavor.

Every Passover my parents, brothers, cousins, uncles, aunts would gather around my grandparents’ table and feast on platters of rice flavored with aromatic herbs and spices. Rice was the ideal foil to my grandmother’s saucy kibbeh meatballs, piquant vegetable turshi, and juicy tabeet chicken. For me, Passover food was synonymous with rice. (My mother’s plate was always conspicuously grain-free—old habits die hard, I guess).

And then I met a Nice Jewish Guy of Ashkenazi heritage, with the deeply ingrained (no pun intended) Passover culinary customs to match. Read: no more rice! But I refused to fall into the cliché of bland, starchy Eastern European food. I was determined to work the aromas and flavors of the Sephardi dishes I grew up celebrating into my new, Ashkenazi-friendly repertoire.

When I learned that quinoa was permitted for Passover—even by the stringent standards of OU—I realized I’d found my miracle ingredient. This super-grain has a rice-like texture, is lighter in flavor and consistency than potatoes, and is a perfect accompaniment to meat mains, like my Marmalade-Garlic Glazed Roasted Chicken. I add sweet, tart, plump-when-you-cook-’em dried cranberries and toasted almond slivers for crunch. A colorful dash of cumin and a bright scattering of paprika, along with sautéed onions, enhances the citrus-scented chicken. It’s a gorgeous combination of tastes and textures, and best of all, the vibrant flavor of my childhood Passover remains.

Marmalade-Garlic Glazed Roasted Chicken With Cranberry-Almond Quinoa Stuffing

Ingredients

Cranberry-Almond Quinoa Stuffing:
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 onions, well-chopped
2 cups rinsed and cooked quinoa (substitute rice for Sephardi tradition or year-round eating)
1 cup dried cranberries (or cherries)
¾ cup slivered almonds
2 teaspoons cumin
2 teaspoons paprika
Salt & Pepper, to taste

Marmalade-Garlic Glazed Roasted Chicken:
2 tablespoons olive oil
3-4 tablespoons orange marmalade
2 tablespoons garlic powder
1 tablespoon chicken stock
Salt and Pepper, 1 teaspoon each
1 4-5 lb. broiler chicken, rinsed and patted dry

Directions

1. In a large skillet over medium-heat, sauté chopped onions in two tablespoons of olive oil until golden brown around the edges, 3-4 minutes.
2. Add the slivered almonds and toast lightly (2 minutes). Fold in the prepared quinoa to the mixture, cook through. Add dried cranberries or dried cherries. Mix in cumin and paprika, salt and pepper to taste. Set aside.
3. Heat oven to 375F. In a small bowl mix together marmalade, garlic powder, and chicken stock. Place prepared chicken breast side up in roasting pan. Season with salt and pepper, rub with remaining olive oil. Smear marmalade concoction over chicken and inside cavities. When done with marmalade, spoon the quinoa stuffing into the chicken. Tie drumsticks, and if you cannot tuck the wings underneath the bird, truss the wings. Place any left over quinoa stuffing around the chicken.
4. Place cooking rack in center of oven. Tent aluminum foil over chicken, place in oven and cook for 45 minutes. Remove foil and cook for an additional 40-45 minutes, or until skin is golden brown and the meat is cooked through when pierced.

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

I labored over a Passover macaroon berry pie recipe for weeks, certain that if I got it just right, my kitchen would be ready in time for the seders. I funneled all my purposefulness into creating flawless Passover recipes, thinking that the sweet salvation of dessert was all I needed. I planned on a pie crust made out of macaroon crumbs and coconut oil, I got together all the ingredients, managed my time sensibly, and then plowed ahead. I eventually kinda-sorta got the crust how I wanted it, but the soupy texture of the cooked berries caused major crust-erosion. And then I couldn’t ignore the unavoidable truth: I really dislike those pop-top cans of macaroons (too sweet, often stale).

Meanwhile, the kitchen renovation was stalled to a standstill. No amount of angry threats, desperate entreaties or sweet bribes made a difference. I could not make it happen faster, or even at all. Nevertheless, I dug in, and kept pushing the macaroon berry pie recipe, trying to make it to work. And like the phone calls I made to the electrician and plumber, it was going nowhere fast.

The belabored Passover dessert remained a hot unappealing mess until I squeezed past my narrow expectations and allowed myself to let go of my pre-conceived notions of how it would turn out. I considered my favorite macaroon recipe: Dark, dense, moist, chocolatey, not too sweet, and best of all—tried and tested! I had a hunch that it would make a perfect bite-sized tart crust when baked in a muffin tray. And then maybe because I had potato starch on my mind, due to the runny berries, I thought: crushed potato chips! I discovered that when folded into the chewy, bittersweet chocolate coconut shreds, they added a salty pop and a pleasing crunch to the macaroon shell.

Next I combined two cups of berries on a stovetop with sugar, lemon, and a pinch of potato starch, and cooked the mixture to a rich, jeweled-toned sauce. Spooned thickly over the macaroon mini-tart shell, it makes for a silky, crispy, juicy, chocolatey dessert! Easy to prepare in separate steps, these Mini Macaroon Berry Tarts can be assembled right before serving, and taste best when served at room temperature. Top them with fresh berries, chocolate shavings, crushed potato chips, extra chopped macaroons, peaks of whipped cream, or drizzles of chocolate sauce—whatever you like. These sweet little treats celebrate the festival of freedom with flexible flavor and an adaptable recipe.

p.s. Kitchen’s still not done, but is it really so bad? A raw-food seder actually sounds authentic, memorable, and quite liberating!

Passover Mini Macaroon Berry Tarts (Pareve/Dairy free)
Yields 12-15 tarts

Ingredients

Macaroon shells:
½ cup pareve chocolate chips or 2 oz. chopped chocolate
2 cups shredded unsweetened coconut
¾ cup sugar
¼ teaspoon salt
¼ cup unsweetened cocoa powder,
2 egg whites
¼-1/2 cup crushed ridged potato chips

Very Berry Filling:
1 cup of fresh blueberries
1 cup fresh raspberries
¼ cup sugar
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
½ teaspoon potato starch

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 350F. In a medium-sized bowl melt chocolate, let cool and set aside.

2. In a large bowl combine shredded coconut, sugar, salt, cocoa powder.

3. Whisk egg whites into bowl of melted chocolate. With a rubber spatula fold melted chocolate mixture into coconut mixture, until well-mixed. Fold in crushed potato chips.

4. Spray the cups of a muffin tray with cooking oil. With moistened hands, pat down a clump of macaroon mixture into the muffin cups so that it forms a shallow mini pie-shell.

5. Place in preheated oven for 18-20 minutes or until macaroon tart shells are crispy golden around edges. Remove from oven and let cool.

6. To make berry filling: in a medium saucepan over medium heat, combine blueberries and raspberries. Thoroughly mix in sugar, lemon juice, and potato starch, breaking down berries as you stir. Cook for 3-4 minutes until a thick and juicy consistency results.

7. Let berry filling cool. Spoon cooled mixture into tart shells and top as desired. Serve at room temperature and enjoy!

For a richer, creamier filling: blend ¼ cup almond milk, 2 tablespoons almond meal, and 2 tablespoons maple syrup together with berry sauce.

The post Not Your Bubbe’s Passover Dessert: Mini Macaroon Berry Tarts 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.

You never know when it’ll happen, and when it does you never know how to react. You’ll be innocently sitting at a table, minding your own business, when someone hands you a bowl of death.

Excuse me, I mean a bowl of kasha varnishkas.

I’m sorry, but I really can’t be polite about this. Kasha varnishkas are grey like death, taste like death, and getting the bits of it out of your teeth kills your afternoon. I’ve never heard someone say ‘mmm hand me that kasha varnishkas,’ or ‘I know what would make this meal better, kasha varnishkas.’ To be completely honest I’m not quiet sure why this is a classic Jewish dish. But it is.

Every Thanksgiving, my grandmother’s festive lunch meant the one time a year my family was invited to her house and she served food. If you were wondering, by serving food I mean she called up the local kosher deli and had them set up the works. By the time we arrived, I was always starving. After dodging some hugs and kisses, I wanted to do what all good Americans do: dig in and eat. Being that we were the only people in our extended family that kept kosher, everyone was handed their own plate made out of the flimsiest paper known to mankind and directed to the table covered in takeout boxes. Part of growing up is getting covered in physical and emotional scars. The memory of desperately chewing kasha varnishkas with the same happy expression a cat has as it nibbles on its hairball makes me realize those Thanksgiving lunches provided me with both. Ultimately my difficult upbringing and the challenges of digesting reheated kosher deli takeout made me want to make a kid-friendly version of kasha varnishkas that I’d happily eat today as an overgrown child.

Arthur Schwartz, a former instructor at the Culinary Institute of America and the author of countless food-related books, says that kasha means cereal in Russian and varnishkas’ root is the Ukrainian word for a filled dumpling. Perhaps this got lost in translation and somewhere along the lines the ancestors of Jewish cuisine turned it into the traditional dish found in kosher deli’s to this very day: kasha, or buckwheat groats, and varnishkas, or bowtie pastas. If this doesn’t sound appetizing enough, proper kasha varnishkas is made with chicken fat. That’s right the fat of a chicken. Nothing says yummy in my tummy quiet like chicken lard.

I guess you could say I didn’t decide that this recipe needs to be rebooted, the universe did.

I mean seriously, chicken fat.

That was clearly the first thing to go, and it was replaced by sticky heart-stopping cheddar cheese, making it much more colorful than its black-and-white predecessor. This dish, which can be found all over the Jewish culinary scene, gets a lot of its flavor from an onion—that’s why in this version we use both red and white ones. In order to give this recipe a bit of a bite, and in hopes of making macaroni and cheese good for your body as well as your soul, I added some peppers.

Anyone who has tasted the classic version of this dish knows how strong of a taste the kasha has. It more or less flavors everything and leaves a little nasty something in between your teeth, which makes you taste the kasha varnishkas long after you’ve finished chewing. In order to make the strong taste a bit friendlier I sprinkled it on top of the dish with fresh coriander and garlic—with this kasha, you’ll be glad to be tasting it long after you’re done.

Not Your Bubbe’s Kasha Varnishka
Serves 6-8

Ingredients:
1\4 cup unsalted butter
Salt and pepper to taste
1\2 medium onion, sliced
3 tbsp flour
1 red pepper, sliced into thin strips
1 yellow pepper, sliced into thin strips
1 hot pepper, diced
1 red onion, sliced into thin strips
3 1\3 cups milk full fat
2 1\2 cups shredded cheddar cheese,
1 lb bowtie pasta
3\4 cup kasha
1\4 diced fresh cilantro
5 garlic cloves, minced

Directions:

1. Preheat your oven to 400 degrees and boil a medium pot of water.

2. Melt your butter in a large pot over a medium heat.

3. Once your butter starts to melt add the onion and salt and pepper to taste. Let them cook until it begins to soften.

4. Slowly add your flour to the pot and mix until the contents thicken.

5. Gradually, about 1\4 of a cup at a time, add the milk. Before each addition let the sauce thicken considerably and whisk constantly.

6. Once you have added all the milk, let your sauce simmer over a medium heat for 7 minutes.

7. Add the rest of your vegetables, and let the sauce simmer for another 3-5 minutes.

8. While the sauce is thickening, cook your pasta in the boiling water. Cook it 90 percent of the way you normally would because it will continue cooking in the sauce and in the oven. (If you’re not sure how long to cook it for, read the pasta’s package. There should be a suggested amount of cooking time. Let your pasta cook for a few minutes less than they suggest.)

9. As you wait for everything to cook, combine your kasha, cilantro, and garlic cloves in a small bowl. Set aside until later.

10. Once the sauce has thickened, gradually add the cheese and let each addition melt before adding any more cheese.

11. After adding all your cheese, toss your pasta into the sauce and stir it around in the pot.

12. Spray a large baking dish and pour your pasta and sauce inside.

13. Sprinkle the top of the pasta and cheese with its kasha crust.

14. Bake on the top rack for 10-12 minutes.

Also try:

Not Your Bubbe’s Honey Chiffon Cake

Not Your Bubbe’s Kibbeh Agemono

Not Your Bubbe’s Borscht Salad

The post Not Your Bubbe’s Recipe: Kasha Mac and Cheese appeared first on Jewcy.