Today, David Brooks published an op-ed that read like a press release for Pomegranate, a high-end kosher market in Midwood, Brooklyn, and the Orthodox Union. In it, he marvels at the wonder that is the non-dairy cheese puff. (You can eat with a meat meal!)

Clearly he didn’t visit the supermarket on a Friday afternoon, a few hours before Shabbos. The experience would’ve been much less positive if he had tried to push a cart through the pre-Sabbath last minute dash for groceries.

But Brooks wasn’t merely singing the praises of “the kosher Whole Foods,” as he put it. He also rained down compliments on the community that shops there—the Orthodox Jews. As if reading tea leaves, Brooks saw the reasons for the Orthodox’s success in the products on Pomengranate’s shelves. “Pomegranate,” he writes, “looks like any island of upscale consumerism, but deep down it is based on a countercultural understanding of how life should work.”

For the record, an all-kosher supermarket is about as countercultural as the gluten-free aisle of any health food store. So long as it’s sold in the store in a capitalist society, it’s very much part of the mainstream cultural activity.

The rules—or halacha, to put it Hebraically—in Brooks’ estimation constitute “moderate religious zeal.” Remember, he’s publishing this article mere weeks before Passover. Clearly, he’s never been witness to Orthodox preparations for the holiday during which some folks use so much aluminum foil to cover countertops that these rooms resemble the interior of a 60s B-movie spaceship. Passover is to competitive piety as the Olympics are to gymnastics—it’s the biggest stage on which to show your neighbors how much more religious you are than them.

It’s quite easy to go through Brooks’ essay and find other laughable assertions. But I’m more curious as to why Brooks has seemingly abandoned his critical faculties to write this piece of pabulum that is devoid of any sort healthy skepticism.

The sort of romanticizing that Brooks engages in is something I’ve encountered on occasion from non-observant Jews who feel insecure about the degree of their religious knowledge and practice. Nodding to pluralism, they’ll concede that Orthodoxy may not be right for them, but many feel, deep down, that the Orthodox are doing it right, that they are somehow more “authentic” than other Jews. To put it into Sarah Palin terms, the Orthodox are the “real Americans.” The rest of the Jews are “fake.”

What the Orthodox are doing right, according to Brooks, is reproducing. He cites this stat:

Nationwide, only 21 percent of non-Orthodox Jews between the ages of 18 and 29 are married. But an astounding 71 percent of Orthodox Jews are married at that age. And they are having four and five kids per couple.

I’m not going to talk about whether or not I think it’s good or bad that Orthodox Jews marry so young and have so many children. Matrimony and childbearing, I believe, are personal choices. I’d like to think (or at least pretend) that all of these young Orthodox men and women are acting of their own free will and not under extreme pressure to marry young and have many children.

Nor am I here to quibble with Brooks’ assertions about the Orthodox population boom. They clearly enjoy a much higher birthrate than the rest of the Jewish community. But since when does having more kids than other groups validate your lifestyle? It certainly does not mean that you’re necessarily doing something “right.” It’s only “best” insofar as we’re talking about survival of the most populous and in purely evolutionary terms. (For the record, I learned a barebones version of evolutionary theory in my yeshiva high school. It was proffered with the caveat, “We’re only teaching this to you so you can answer the questions on the Regents,” referring to the state examinations. Talk about giving an essential scientific theory the short shrift.)

Missed in all of this treacle is what happens to those whose desires aren’t perfectly in line with the demands of the community—they are either forced out or feel hemmed in. In that case, no amount of dairy-free cheese puffs will fulfill you.

(Photo by Brendan Smialowski/Getty Images for Meet the Press)

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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.

The clock suddenly read 7:25 p.m. and every burner on the stove was going full blast. My chef’s uniform had been accidentally left behind at my parent’s house, so my plan had been to change into a respectable outfit of all black before the guests arrived. But with five minutes to go until service, there was no time. 

It was the first event of my new kosher pop-up supper club, Rimon Chicago. A pop-up, or “underground,” supper club is kind of like a restaurant that only opens once in awhile. Pop-up supper clubs have been increasing in popularity over the past several years, taking on a number of different forms, which share the central themes of impermanence and a kind of reckless creativity. Chef Ludo Lefebvre, a French transplant to LA, has been credited as the originator of the pop-up concept. His operation, LudoBites, started in 2007 and has been described as a “touring restaurant” which opens for a week or two at a time in secret locations. Pop-ups are filling both practical and emotional gaps left by the established restaurant industry. They allow chefs who don’t have the financial resources or sometimes the culinary training to open a full-scale restaurant to see if there is a market desire for the goods they have to offer. Temporary operations also give professional chefs the opportunity to experiment in ways that a full-time kitchen can’t afford.

There is an ongoing, at times vitriolic debate about “food as art,” which is another lengthy discussion on its own. For the moment, I will venture the opinion that the pop-up is the culinary world’s version of installation art. The ephemeral quality of the pop-up lends it an air of exclusivity and creativity that established restaurants can’t capture.


In the niche market that is kosher cuisine, pop-ups are increasingly becoming a popular alternative to visiting the same old restaurants time and again. In the New York area, clubs like The Hester combine creative food with new musical talent. Others, like the tasting menu events from Manna Catering and the Texas-style smokehouse from Gemstone Catering, are aiming to showcase a new level of kosher culinary expertise.

For all kosher pop-ups, there is the added value of increasing what are sometimes very limited options for high quality meals. When I moved to Chicago a year and a half ago, I came with expectations of big city living that had been built from stints in New York and Jerusalem. I looked forward to sampling the kosher cuisine of a new city, as I do whenever I find myself somewhere with a large Jewish population. After my first few months here, however, I realized Chicago has a different type of Jewish life than other big cities. While Jewish cultural experiences abound in different forms throughout the city, high quality kosher cuisine has yet to make a lasting imprint. I wondered whether it was a lack of demand or simply a lack of effort. I decided to start Rimon Chicago as an experiment, to see if there were other kosher keeping Jews like myself in Chicago who wanted an interesting culinary experience.

I dusted off my degree from the Jerusalem Culinary Institute and got to work. The name Rimon, which means pomegranate in Hebrew, came from my love of the fruit and its many diverse culinary applications. I particularly love Middle Eastern cuisine, and the pomegranate features prominently in many dishes both sweet and savory. I also used the Middle East as my inspiration for the first menu. I developed six courses that spoke of the Middle East in some way, either through spice, flavor, star ingredient, or even color. Some were more directly influenced, like the starter of charred eggplant, tehina and pomegranate reduction with homemade lavash. Others, like the Mediterranean ceviche with fresh tuna, ginger, and Turkish olives, or the cardamom-coffee chocolate truffles, borrowed components from the region and infused them into recipes from other parts of the world.

Once we got the word out about Rimon, it became quickly apparent that I wasn’t the only kosher-keeping Jew in Chicago craving some good food. Reservations came in from people I had never met in other parts of the city. But the practicalities of setting up our first event almost led to the end of Rimon before it even started. Running a kosher supper club presents a range of unique challenges. For example, there is absolutely no place to get kosher duck breast in the Chicagoland area. After days of back and forth between vendors in New York and Maryland, arguing about exorbitant shipping costs and details of various products, the duck breasts arrived via plane, escorted by one of my two Rimon collaborators whose day job had conveniently taken him to New York the week before our event.



Another interesting predicament was the location. Generally, supper clubs favor venues that are off the beaten path: an abandoned building, an artist’s loft, a hidden garden. But because of our need for proximity to a kosher kitchen, the options were slim. For the first event we decided to stay close to home and host the crowd in my living room. 

As we geared up for the first event, everyone around pitched in to lend a hand. Tables were shlepped in (and up the two flights of stairs in our walk-up) by my husband. My mother, coincidentally in town for a few days, entertained my three-month-old son while I cooked. Rimon became something like a mom-and-pop joint that serves spiced lamb and handmade truffles.



The minutes ticked down to 7:30 on the big day. One of my Rimon collaborators got his cocktail station ready with all the ingredients for his “Maxwell Street,” a shockingly delicious concoction of artisanal bourbon, Manischewitz, pomegranate juice and bitters. I manned the stove, searing off as many duck breasts as possible to keep the smoke and sizzle from my open kitchen to a minimum once our customers arrived. Suddenly the doorbell rang and we were off! From there the night was a happy blur of pouring drinks, rushing to plate course after course, and best of all the fantastic buzz of conversation and laughter that makes up a full and satisfied crowd.



Charred Eggplant, Tehina, and Pomegranate Reduction

1 large eggplant
¼ cup tehina paste
1 tbsp fresh lemon juice
salt
pepper

Pomegranate Reduction
1 cup pomegranate juice
2 tbs sugar
1 tsp lemon juice

Chopped parsley for serving

Directions:

1. Set your oven to 500 degrees. Wash and dry the eggplant, and then poke several holes all over it with a knife or fork. Place the eggplant on a baking tray and roast it for an hour, turning every 20 minutes or so. Resist the temptation to remove it once it seems to be burning. This charred flavor is integral to the dish.

2. While the eggplant is cooking, prepare the tehina and pomegranate reduction. Add a couple tablespoons of water at a time to the tehina paste, whisking thoroughly, until the paste has changed consistency and color and is a smooth off white, about the consistency of pancake batter. Add in the tablespoon of lemon juice and salt and pepper to taste.

3. In a small saucepan, mix the pomegranate juice, sugar, and 1 teaspoon lemon juice. Bring to a boil while stirring occasionally and then reduce heat slightly. Continue to stir occasionally until the mixture has thickened and coats the back of a spoon. Remove from heat and let cool completely (it will continue to thicken as it cools).

4. Take the eggplant out of the oven and let it cool. Once it’s cool enough to handle, cut it open ans scoop out the flesh, discarding the burnt peel. Place the flesh in a colander and let it drain for 30 minutes if you have time. If not, that’s ok also—the flavor will just be slightly less concentrated.

5. Spread the tehina on a serving plate and drizzle the pomegranate reduction around the edges. Mound the eggplant in the center of the plate. Sprinkle with chopped parsley and serve with a flatbread or lavash crackers.

Ariel Pollock is the founder of Rimon Chicago, a new kosher pop-up supper club. The next event will be ‘CHINESE’ ON CHRISTMAS, on Dec. 24, 2012. Reservations can be made by emailing rimonchicago@gmail.com.

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