In the second installment of his new cooking video series here on Jewcy, JDub's Director of Events Adam Teeter shows you how to make delicious latkes - one batch out of traditional potatoes, and the other out of zucchini and squash. This post includes special cameos from The Macaroons and, of course, Hanukkah Harry.

 

 

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Every once in a while I feel sorry for myself because my kids won’t eat my lovingly prepared meals; for comfort, I seek out one of my fellow moms, specifically those with teenagers. Invariably they look at me with a withering ‘well let me get you the violins and a stiff drink fast, your poor thing’ stare, reminding me that I am a mere amateur at kitchen rejection. When I hear their tales of trying to feed their teens, my load somehow seems lighter, more manageable. Snarky, picky, and sometimes downright nasty, it is no easy task to manage teens at the table.

Enter Rozanne Gold and her new book, Eat Fresh Food: Awesome Recipes for Teen Chefs. I sat down with the author and discovered that the book’s appeal to teens is as organic as its recipes. Gold recently adopted a teen-ager and for the past few years they have been coming together as a family, in and out of the kitchen. Her daughter was one of five teen chefs engaged to prepare and test each recipe. Their collective industry and obvious enjoyment is evidenced throughout the book with hands-on pictures depicting their efforts.

“Something a little quirky is that everyone, everyone is talking about childhood obesity and overeating and diabetes and getting back to the table – no one wrote a book. Someone forgot to write the book.” She correctly assessed that the literature includes many books about cooking, kids, and healthy eating, but few if any that feature well known chefs who have cross referenced their work with a nutritionist in order to serve the teen audience. This gap as well as her family changes prompted her to write the book and have nutritionist Helen Kimmel review and validate the recipes. Coupled with her teen chefs’ participation and stamp of approval, the book has a tremendous sense of leading-edge authenticity.

“I like being the first to do things”, says Gold. A food pioneer, she graduated from Tufts and and did graduate work at NYU. With no formal culinary training, Gold beg, borrowed, and stole experience, and at 23 became the Executive Chef at Mayor Koch’s Gracie Mansion. “I catered the first seder ever at Gracie Mansion. It was a great experience. The Mayor told me to put Perrier (instead of seltzer) in the matzo balls which I had never done before. I did a traditional seder for his family. Holiday favorites included anything with garlic, as well as brisket with vermouth, onions, and a bay leaf.” Many books and restaurants later, she has become a well-known force in the food world. Just this week, she broke boundaries by having her book referenced in the New York Times' Health blog, as well as featured in the Science section for its unique approach.

Gold does admire others in the industry attempting to improve school and home meals for children, including Bill Telepan, Ann Cooper, and Lynn Fredericks. But for this book, she felt she had to pave a new path. “Setting criteria for what eating fresh food means was a process. Working with the nutritionist, we definitely decided not to go the route of calories or counting, but to come up with some broader way of expressing healthy food. The original title was Ketchup Ain’t A Vegetable,” laughed Gold. “I’m not doctrinaire about this at all. There is so much discussion about good food and bad food. My solution, my definition is eat fresh food. Which is also a way of saying no processed food or very little processed food. That became my benchmark. The basis of every recipe is that a vegetable or a fruit has to be the star of the dish. You will find this in every recipe. That is my bottom line. The fact that there is very little meat in there is cognizant of the fact that kids are serious about wanting to be vegetarians; 80 – 90% of the book is suitable for vegetarians.”

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Bubbe Wendy's Hanukkah Latkes (Fancy Wendy's Hash Browns)
by Erik of Fancy Fast Food, with assistance and a little bit of hand modeling from me

Hey everybody, it's Hanukkah! It's Chanuka! No matter how you spell it, it's time for the Jewish festival of lights -- eight crazy nights of dreidels gone wild, a time when latkes are as abundant as old yentas around a mahjongg table. But you don't need to be Jewish to partake in Hanukkah traditions, particularly the gastronomic treat of latkes (or lattkes). No matter how you spell it, "latkes" is Yiddish for fried pancakes, typically of the potato variety -- making it oddly similar to McDonald's hash browns. However, Bubbe Wendy has guilted us into using her Fancy Fast Food recipe ("If you just want to use McDonald's hash browns, then I guess that's fine by me..."), so here goes. Oy...

Ingredients (from Wendy's):

• 8 orders of hash browns (for the eight nights of Hannukah)
• 2 baked potatoes (with packets of sour cream and "Buttery-Best Spread")
• 2 orders of mandarin oranges
• 1 small soft drink
• 1 bottle of water
• packets of Sweet & Sour Sauce
• packets of sugar
• packets of salt and pepper
• a pinch of Jewish guilt (may be substituted with Catholic guilt)
• organic chives (for garnish and a touch of irony)

Latkes are traditionally served with apple sauce or sour cream. We already have the latter, so we're going to have to make the apple sauce. Unfortunately, Wendy's sells no apple products whatsoever, so we'll have to get creative.

What are apples? They are a kind of fruit that are sometimes sweet, sometimes sour, and so naturally we will start with Sweet & Sour Sauce. To add a fruity pulp to it, we'll add the mandarin oranges -- but that's fine; Bubbe Wendy moved down to Boca.

Put the manadrin oranges in a food processor and purée them, then strain out the extraneous juice. Mix this pulp in a bowl with the Sweet & Sour Sauce. The color is a bit intense to look like real apple sauce, so scoop out some baked potato (minus any chives) and mix it in -- the French call potatoes "pommes de terre" (apples of earth) so we'll go with it. Mush and whisk it all until it sort of looks like apple sauce; add sugar until it's as sweet.

Next, the latkes themselves. Take all the mini hash brown nuggets and mush them with your hands. Touching them, you'll realize they are all too greasy for things to stick together, so we'll need to make a batter to work as a binding agent.

Put one baked potato, minus the skin, into a food processor and add about a quarter cup of water. Hit purée and voilà: batter! Add this potato batter to your pile of hash browns and mix thoroughly in a bowl. Add salt and pepper as desired.

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With eighty degree days and no sign of chill in sight, Thanksgiving seemed a far-off option in a country that is more familiar with religious Pilgrims than the sort that settled New England. But left to some homesick Americans with a penchant for good wine, the holiday can turn into much more than the one celebrated in the good ole US of A--the one preceded by a large parade and capped off with black Friday.

Twelve Americans and one Israeli gathered in a lovely apartment in Jerusalem as the weekend began in the holy land. Two poets, four rabbis in waiting, a computer engineer, a photographer, a teacher and a few visitors began the evening, not with the carving of a bird or the giving of thanks, but with the popping of some bubbly. The notion of this meal was not to follow the dictates of tradition but rather to create something new: five courses, each paired with a specific wine, and lemon sorbet to cleanse our palettes in between.

The first course, appetizers enjoyed before setting down at the table, included veggie antipasto and veggie chopped liver. They were accompanied by a bottle of Cava and a bottle of Brut. These were my favorite wines--cold, sparkling, the perfect start to a fascinating meal.

Everyone found their seat, finished off their Cava and moved onto the second course. In an effort to not leave tradition completely in the dark, one of the guests prepared a honey sage cornbread--in my opinion, a modern American classic. Sweet, savory, amazing. This was served with a carrot soufflé--the recipe of a guest's aunt and the perfect retake on the sweet potato marshmellow combination that often graces Thanksgiving tables. As we were now seated at the table, the cries of "Pimp your dish" began--a chorus that followed us through the night and necessitated that the cook give the origins and secrets of his or her recipe. This course was served with Chenin Blanc.

Before moving on to course three, we were served lemon sorbet to make sure our palates were clean and prepared to best enjoy what came next. The third course included a stuffing recipe out of Long Island and a gourmet macaroni and cheese. The mac and cheese truly shamed Kraft--big shells covered in mozzarella, cheddar, and gruyere with tomato slices for color. Sauvignon Blanc, a few rounds of Johnny Appleseed, more sorbet and on to course four.

The fourth course was the real meat of the meal, minus the meat. Salmon done in a cumin rub, sour cream mashed potatoes, steamed broccoli and homemade cranberry sauce. Any other night, this would be the entire meal. On this Thanksgiving, this and some Tempranillo equaled just the fourth course.

With all of the savory food dispensed, we moved on to the best and most important course--dessert. Pumpkin cheesecake bars, chocolate pecan pie, pumpkin pie, dark chocolate truffles and Malbec to boot.

I walked in knowing only the hosts and two other people. I walked out with a handful of new friends, a full belly and real inspiration--this was not a Thanksgiving without thought or hope. This group of temporary expats really redefined the notion of Thanksgiving for me; each course was given its time, its wine and its appreciation. There were true thanks given at this meal--for the food in front of us, for friends new and old, and for the ability to celebrate the holiday despite our proximity to New England. 

I love cooking big dinners, especially when they come with interesting dishes or new culinary challenges.  Thanksgiving has been a favorite of mine for a long time, since I have in part not been celebrating the Jewish holidays for all that long.   Even when I was college, I was whipping up elaborate meals despite limitations on space (one year it was a dormitory kitchen in the basement of the building) or even supplies (I forgot to buy aluminum foil so I improvised by covering my chicken, not a turkey, in applesauce, which by the way kept the meat moist and gave it a slightly sweet flavor).

Living in New York City poses its own set of challenges and provides a certain range of advantages.  I mean in New York, you can get anything and usually get it delivered (at least in Manhattan).  I’ve found that mostly to be true – that is, until I tried to serve venison for Thanksgiving.

A couple of years ago I decided that Thanksgiving was all about traditions.  Whether or not the legends of Pilgrims and Indians were anything like what we used to represent out of construction paper, glue and paper bags, my Thanksgiving table was going to be full of indigenous and local produce.  That was remarkably easy to procure in New York City.  I ordered my Heritage Turkey at The City Bakery and gathered my veggies at farmer’s markets.  But venison is hard to find in NYC, and the clock is always ticking.

Perhaps here is where I should point out that I start planning for this holiday weeks in advance.  I am totally a list maker and once the menu is set, I plot and plan on where and when I will procure what is required.  I dash around the City often picking up specialty items from various locations.  My grocery list is set by date and location.  But, even with the best of planning, there are always obstacles.

I had previously found venison at the 125th Street Fairway market, but around Thanksgiving they don’t restock specialty meats (like game) to make room for more turkeys.  This year, I played phone tag with “Raymond”, the Meat Department's manager, for a week until he rudely told me no, they didn’t carry venison and would not special order for me despite previously telling me that he would do so if I would only call back later.  Apparently, this is a stressful time of the year for Meat Department managers.

Not having much luck with any other grocery store I called, I made my case to the next obvious choice – Facebook.  “Mia Rut still needs venison. Fairway has been giving me the run around for a week only to hang up on me now. Very annoyed,” said my status update.  Remarkably there were some good suggestions, including one from my uncle the hunter, who kept a bunch of venison tucked away in his freezer.  Too bad he didn't live any closer.

So the search continues.  Time is running short, my money is running out and I think that our menu may have to be adjusted.  However, despite the lack of deer meat on our table, we have a slight variation to our theme this year.  We typically host a Thanksgiving Shabbat dinner, foregoing a big meal on Thursday in favor of a more communal Friday night (friends often share Thanksgiving with family, but will come over for Shabbat dinner the next night).

This year we are shaking things up by using traditional Thanksgiving ingredients placed into a traditional Ashkenazi Shabbat dinner - traditional flavors presented in surprising ways.  So instead of matzo ball soup and gefilte fish we are starting out with fish consume.  I even started testing out the more experimental dishes, and thus far they have had rave reviews.  Everything is homemade, even the cranberry pasta for the kugel (use cranberry juice concentrate instead of water) which was another feat of scouring the city for a pasta machine (that didn’t cost an arm and a leg). But feel free to weigh in how this menu sounds:

Corn Bread Challah
Fish Consume
Cornish Hens Roasted in Acorn Squash
Butternut Squash Gravy
Seared Venison Sashimi
Cranberry Sauce Kugel
Chestnut and Sage Stuffing in Baked Apples
Roasted Pumpkin in Soy and Crushed Sesame
Green Bean Gelee
Mashed Japanese Sweet Potatoes with Kimchi
Tzimmis Sorbet
Shoo-Fly Pie
Chocolate Cake

It all started with an excessive amount of cabbage. One of my housemates wanted to make a pretty and delicious green and purple cabbage salad for a dinner party she was attending. “Why are your cabbages so big in this country? In South Africa we have little cabbages!” True, even after making her salad a few times we still had a lot of cabbage left over.

Then I got cabbage in my CSA share – two heads of it. “How do you feel about sauerkraut?” I suggested, thinking about my own German heritage. “Or kimchi?” was her suggestion. Now we started getting excited. She pulled out her Ball Blue Book Guide to Preserving, which was a rather comprehensive collection of pickles (although no kimchi). So several kimchi recipes were consulted online and we got to work.

Big canning jars were purchased along with some chili paste, fresh ginger, scallions and lots of salt. The cabbage was washed, sliced and ready to wilt. “It says to let the salted cabbage to sit for several minutes to let it wilt, but it’s been twenty minutes and it’s not wilting.” This was us looking at our bowl of crisp and fresh purple cabbage sparkling with salt. About an hour later the outer edges appeared slightly limp. The cabbage was then firmly packed down into the jar it’s salty cabbage juices covering the leaves. We jerry-rigged a cover and some weight to press the cabbage down firmly into its own brine. “Fermentation is usually complete in three to six weeks,” she read. “Weeks?” Oy this was a lot of work for a little sauerkraut. And neither of us knew how the purple cabbage was going to work – especially since it had been so reluctant to initially to wilt.

The kimchi, on the other hand was remarkably easy. Let the cabbage soak overnight in a water and salt mix. Rinse then mix in a blend of chili powder (although I used paste) salt, sugar, ginger and scallions. Instead of chopping I simply threw the spice mixture in my food processor making a nice even and smooth paste I massaged into the dry cabbage leaves (using a glove since the chili can burn your skin). I packed the kimchi into jars and let it sit on our kitchen counter.

And a few days later, bright and shiny with flecks of red in a hot and tangy liquid, the kimchi was ready and remarkably delicious and was quickly eaten. The purple sauerkraut continued to sit on the counter. It smelled bad (as sauerkraut does) and overflowed its jar a few times (making a big purple mess). Occasionally we could see some bubbles from the fermenting process, but other than that there was great skepticism in the house whether or not this was going to be successful.

More kimchi was made with the next week’s CSA cabbage. While picking up that week’s share I traded some other veggies for more cabbage. “What do you do with all that cabbage?” I was asked. Good question, what does one do with lots of kimchi? We brought out the bamboo steamers and made dumplings. We made sushi. Not authentic Korean foods, but delectable. And there was more cabbage. And beets. I forgot to mention the beets. There were also lots and lots of beets. Pickling spices simmered on the stove with a stick of cinnamon in apple cider vinegar. Cooked beets and this tangy brine were poured into more jars. The fridge was starting to get full.

Shabbat dinners began featuring our pickled goods. Kimchi on a Shabbat table? Why not. We brought jars of beets as gifts to dinner parties. Then the sauerkraut was ready. It didn’t taste anything like the mushy stuff that my mom would cook on New Year’s Day with pork loin. I never liked sauerkraut. It was offensive I couldn’t imagine putting it in my mouth and dripped its rancid liquid everywhere. But our purple sauerkraut was still crisp, had very little liquid and very little smell. It gleamed like strips of scarlet silk on our Shabbat table. The beets were like deep rubies and the kimchi was just fun and exotic.

I love cooking. I love cooking for other people. Being unemployed gives more time than I would have if I were working. So I feel like I can try new things. Although pickling is a way of preserving fresh foods, it has also been preserving my sanity as I have tried to find a new job.

Tracey Fine and Georgie Tam, aka The Jewish Princess, are the authors of The Jewish Princess Feasts and Festivals. They will be guest-blogging on Jewcy this week, and this is their first post.

 

The Jewish Princess Feasts & FestivalsI am sure that when you think of London, you think: red double-decker buses, black cabs, smog (there goes the weather thing). Just like when I think of New York, I think of yellow cabs, pretzel stands, and amazing SHOPS (there goes my reputation) and Broadway of course.  However, all of our historical sites can be found in central London: Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, Harrods and even though I do occasionally visit-Harrods somewhat more than the others, where I live is unfortunately not filled with historical sites, unless I count my high street cobbler, who has been there forever (cobbling is a dying trade) and is a relic himself, smoking fifty a day (very un-PC Princessly correct) sniffing shoe glue, but still there to fix any pair of Jimmy Choos etc. which happens to be most useful. And there is only the occasional black cab that has lost his way and is scuttling back to the West End.

So now I must introduce myself, "How do you do?" I am The Jewish Princess. Bet you didn't think we had any over this side of the Princess Pond, but I am happy to reassure you that we are alive, well, and shopping. In fact, until I decided to come out of the closet (it was quite full) and star in The Jewish Princess Cookbook and The Jewish Princess Feasts & Festivals (just published in the USA by Sterling,) Princesses over here, were not so ready to wave the banner. However, now when I am recognized in my local deli, as fans peer into my shopping basket to see what I am making for dinner (sometimes I have to hide the ready made sauces) or in Brent Cross (my local shopping mall) where I am occasionally stopped, they proclaim that after reading all about me, that they believe they are in fact a Jewish Princess. Sometimes these Princesses are not even Jewish!

You see I had never thought of "Jewish Princess" as a negative phrase and felt that Princesses were getting a hard time. Therefore it was about time to re-brand, after all what is wrong with wanting to look after your family, friends but to also look after yourself?

So I hope that over the next few days you can make time between hair and nail appointments to join me and find out about my family tribulations, what I eat, what I cook, where I go and who I meet. YES, a week in the life of THE JEWISH PRINCESS.  Why not follow me even in your high heels and see if you can find a little bit of a JP in you?

See you tomorrow and remember to stay PPP: Postive, Productive and Princesslike in everything you do!

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As I was writing Jewish Cooking Boot Camp, the subject of my book often came up in conversation. Inevitably the person asking would have some sort of recipe suggestion. But with those requests came something else... family traditions. As I met and spoke with people all around the globe I started to collect all the fun, funny, silly, sentimental and downright crazy family traditions that people would tell me. I loved them so much that I ended up putting out a call via Facebook and E-mail for even more. They came pouring in.

In today's world the image of the Jewish family, and the traditions they celebrate within their home, is rapidly changing. Some families stay true to what we embrace as "classic" - my friend Avi still bakes challah every Friday for Shabbat with her twin daughters - but that doesn't hold for everyone. Instead of a holiday dinner, my friend Jill and her family took a Yiddish lesson. Creative? Yes. Traditional? No. But they had a blast. And as a family that's not necessarily "religious" it was a perfect way to recognize a holiday and spend it together.

As part of my research for the book I spoke with a rabbi named Rachel Greengrass. I met her when she stopped by my daughter's "Tot Shabbat" and I knew she would be the perfect person to contribute to the book. She's friendly, approachable, and young...and she did not disappoint. One the main points she talks about in her portion of the book is that fact that being creative and making new traditions IS traditional. She and her husband practice what she preaches - one of her traditions is to drink four shots of vodka made from grapes instead of wine at her seder.

Many of the other family traditions were just as unique. From my friend Aleesa, who celebrates the joys of matzo ball soup with a song that her late grandfather made up, to my mom's good friend Dee, whose niece has kept a 25+-year list of everyone who has attended every seder they have ever had. There's Jodi, who had to hide TWO afikomens from her ultra-competitive brother; Stacy, whose mom reenacts the Passover plagues with live table theater and rubber bugs; and Israeli-born Efrat, who teaches her Miami-born children holiday songs in English, Spanish and Hebrew.

My own family's tradition is my mom's Jell-O mold. Every year she would serve it and every year my cousins and brother and I would laugh and mock her choice of side dish. In an effort to entertain us even further she began finding funny shapes to "mold" her mold with. There was the turkey, the Star of David, the heart... and many more. Today it still remains the butt of every holiday meal joke. But we wouldn't have it any other way.

What's the craziest Jewish holiday tradition you've heard? (Who knows? There may be second book...)

Traveling around promoting Jewish Cooking Boot Camp, my mom and I have been fortunate to meet many, many people who love to share their stories and recipes with us. And almost everyone has the same comment: "My mother/grandmother/aunt made a similar honey cake/matzo ball/brisket but shenever wrote down the recipe! It was 'a little of this, a little of that.'"

Hearing these stories only reinforced how rare and special it is that my mom and I were able to amass such a huge collection of traditional recipes. And the real reason we were able to do that was my grandmother, Edith.

Edith was far from a typical Jewish grandmother. She loved fashion and style almost as much as she loved cooking. She was the first person I knew to own MAC makeup in the late 1980s, brought back from a trip to New York City. She referred to her friends as"the dinosaurs." She once convinced a tailor to make my prom dress so short it would have made Paris and Lindsay blush. And I would often come home from work to find my roommate Zoë on the phone with her, discussing the previous night's episode of "Sex & The City."

She was a true individual and her style, her attitude, and even her cooking reflected that. People are always asking where the recipes came from and, truth be told, most came from Edith. They may have originated with her mother or grandmotheror even friends, but it was her tweaking and taste - and ultimately her writing things down - that gave us the basics for the book.

Edith and I at a family holiday in the early 90s.

Even more than in her recipes, I like to think her spirit lives on in the book as well. I wanted to create a book that would appeal to those who go to temple every week as well as those who have never seen the inside of a shul. And I wanted people to see that it's ok to do things your own way, in your own style, with your own spin and personality - much like my grandma. Holidays are about more than following rules. I always like to say I wrote the book not to tell people how to celebrate, but to give them the tools to do it on their own. And I think Edith would have loved that.

In honor of Edith (and my last post) I'm happy to share her signature cake. Try it - it'sreally simple, and absolutely amazing.

Edith's Orange Cake
Serves: 8-10
Preparation Time: 10 minutes
Cooking Time: 25 minutes

(1) 18.25 oz. package orange cake mix
(1) 3.4 oz package instant vanilla pudding
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 cup orange juice

4 extra-large eggs

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F.

2. Grease a 10-inch Bundt pan using oil or cooking spray or Baker's Joy (I prefer Baker's Joy for baking)

3. Mix together all of the ingredients and beat for 2 minutes.

4. Pour the batter into the Bundt pan and bake at 350° for 50 to 60 minutes. Cake is done when golden and bounces back when touched.

5. When the cake is completely cool, pour the glaze over the top.

Orange Glaze

2 cups confectioner's sugar

3 1/2 tablespoons orange juice

Mix the confectioners' sugar with the orange juice, and pour the glaze over the cooled cake.

TIP: You can substitute milk for the orange juice to make an unflavored glaze.

One of the greatest things I discovered as I collected family traditions (see yesterday's post) was the diversity of Jewish families that are out there today. My own Eastern-European family acquired a Brazilian infusion courtesy of my husband and in-laws, leading my friends to dub our daughter "the Jewzilian." Our holiday celebrations now routinely include cachaca (a particularly potent sugarcane alcohol) and have increased in decibels from merely "loud" to "eardrum-shattering." On the flip side, my Brazilian-born father-in-law now regularly uses the word "machetunim" and has developed an obsession with mandelbrot.

One of my best friends, Susie, has the distinct pleasure of being nicknamed the "Jewmaican," as testament to her Jewish father and Jamaican mother. Her family regularly celebrates Jewish holidays with the traditional...rice and peas? It may not be Jewish traditional, but it's Jamaican traditional. They fused their cultures to create a tradition that recognized all aspects of their family, and I love that.

Food truly is a great connector. It connects us not only to other cultures but to our own as well. As most of us know, the Jewish religion emphasizes the act of inviting people into your home for meals. I can't even begin to tell you the amount of non-Jewish friends I have who were just as excited as my tribe members about JCBC. I mean, is there really a better comfort food than matzo ball soup?

One of the most powerful stories in the book comes from Nancy Ratzan, an incredible woman who is the current President of the National Council of Jewish Women (and who happened to write a beautiful foreword for the book). In her position she often travels around the world, meeting with other religious and political leaders. In 2003 she found herself in rural China, investigating the role the UN plays in Chinese family planning. As she went door-to-door in an area where the annual family income is less than $300, she was invited into a multi-generational home of a local family and asked to stay for lunch. Though she politely declined, they insisted she stay to taste a bite of their freshly baked food. With her first bite, Nancy turned to the translator and had him explain that it tasted exactly like the popovers her Eastern-European Jewish grandmother used to make. Through the translator she exchanged recipes with the Chinese grandmother. They were the same.

If that's not an incredible connection, I don't know what is.

 

In honor of my "Jewzilian" family, our favorite drink...

Caipirinha

Makes: 1 drink

1 lime

4 teaspoons sugar (or 2 1/2 packets Splenda or other artificial sweetener)

Ice cubes

Cachaça (or Vodka)

 

 

TIPS:

• Cachaca is very easy to find these days (51 and Leblon are both good brands) and comes in Kosher form for those who need it.
• If cachaca's not for you just sub in vodka (also easily found in kosher varieties) and your caipirinha becomes a caipiroska.
• You can use anything from a tumbler to a highball to a goblet to make this drink, but be sure your glass has a thick bottom and plenty of room for ice.
• Caipirinhas (and Caipiroskas) are best when very cold, so as your ice melts, continue to add more ice to keep your drink cold.

 

1. Cut the lime in half lengthwise and squeeze the juice from each half into a glass, using a lime squeezer.
2. Take the remnants of the lime and cut each side in half and then into thirds, and add them to the glass.
3. Add the sugar or Splenda. You can add more or less sugar depending on personal preference.
4. Use a masher or wooden spoon to mash the sugar into the lime wedges as you stir.
5. Eyeball the amount of liquid now in the glass, and add a little less than that amount of Cachaça.
6. Use your masher to continue mashing the ingredients while stirring.
7. Fill the glass with ice and let the drink sit for a few minutes to chill.

Andrea Carneiro is the author of Jewish Cooking Boot Camp: The Modern Girl's Guide to Cooking Like a Jewish Grandmother. She is guest-blogging this week on Jewcy, and this is her first post.

It was about eight years ago that I came to a shocking realization. I didn't know how to cook. Not boiling-some-pasta-cooking... I mean real cooking.

I was living in a tiny apartment in New York City and spending every spare moment either working or flying home to get a dose of sunshine. Being that my hometown happens to be Miami, those trips were rarely solo. They soon became group vacations, the highlight of which was my parents' annual Chanukah party, always attended by my two best friends (both New Yorkers) and a slew of revolving guests. One night, as Ellen, Jill and I sat watching my mom fry up her famous flourless latkes, Ellen spoke up. "Roz," she said to my mom. "We all have absolutely no idea how to cook Jewish holiday food and someday we're going to have to do it on our own."

We were silent.

"We need a Jewish cooking boot camp," she continued. And an idea was born. We figured it would be 3 days, would cover all major holidays and dishes and come complete with syllabus. From cabbage soup to nut cake we would learn it all. We laughed... and then we moved on.

But as the years went on I realized that there were many, many other young people who went through years of Jewish holidays inhaling brisket, kugel, latkes, honey cake and rugelach...without ever knowing how to make any of it themselves. Wedding seasons and bridal showers and housewarmings came and went and the Jewish cookbooks I found were too religious, too advanced, or too boring. They didn't speak to my generation or my lifestyle. I wanted something that was fun, stylish, informative and interesting. So I created it. I added Cliffs Notes to avoid the humiliation of Googling "Rosh Hashana," a hip-hop Chanukah playlist (thanks Rosenberg brothers!), wine pairings, and even a Purim-inspired Caipirinha.

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Earlier this week, I was still recovering from the swine flu but dragged myself to my office only to find it had been cleaned out. Feeling nauseous anyway, I sat down in my boss’ office and numbly listened to her words. So sorry…it’s the economy…you did a great job…no funding for your position…blah blah blah. Huh? Did my job just dump me with the “it’s not you, it’s me” break-up speech?

So instead of a morning of dull research and nursing a cup of tea wondering if I was well enough to be in the office that day, I was packing a box of my personal items and officially joined the 9.6% of the New York City population counted as unemployed. The rest of the day was kind of a blur. I recall a tremendous outpouring of support and suggestions. Friends sent job postings and made suggestions for networking opportunities. My boyfriend came home early from work to find me in his sunny kitchen hammering away on my laptop looking for job leads.

What a way to start the New Year! Soon the anxiety soon began to creep in. How long can I afford my rent? Where will I live? Just the day before I was planning a trip to Tucson to see my sister and her new baby due this fall. Can I afford it now? My boyfriend and I had been planning on going to Sukkahfest – is that the best use of my (now much more) limited resources?

That and so many more questions were swirling around in my head. But I found myself in my comfort zone, my (boyfriend’s) kitchen, and hungry for dinner. Since I had been sick we were pretty low on groceries, but there were enough odds and ends to pull together some pasta, a basil-kale-chicken stock-raw cashew pesto (with a clove of fresh garlic, it was incredible). But the real comfort food were the black bean brownies.

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I like food.  A lot.  Since my son's initial appearance, my wife Amanda has been watching an intense amount of Food Network (great to watch in short bursts, when you don't have the time or energy for a full show commitment) so I've been exposed to Chopped, Paula Deen, Ace of Cakes, UnWrapped, and The Next Food Network Star. It's taken quite awhile for me to appreciate watching food as much as I enjoy eating it, but thanks to Top Chef: Masters, I think I am finally there.

The fitting label for these shows is Food Porn.  For me, though, its not just Porn; it's Food Voyeurism.  As a keeper of kashrut pretty much my whole life, I have never tasted a scallop or a lobster tail.  I can only imagine a cheeseburger, let alone one with bacon, fried in chorizo fat.  And i find it hard even to fathom the consistency or taste of sea urchin.  And yet I am captivated by these shows and the food in large part because of how they peak my imagination (and test my OCD-like commitment) for hitherto unknown flavors.

This week's Top Chef Masters finale was a celebration of food and the chef's preparing it.  No nasty curveballs, nothing tricky, simply a chance for the 3 finalists to showcase their skills, passion, and food.  It was exciting and moreso than when watching past shows, I found myself wondering: what does that taste like?  Where can I eat THAT?  Why DON'T I eat sea urchin?  Mexican chef Rick Bayless‘ winning 27-ingredient Mole dish brought me to the height of food jealousy.  It wasn't even really unkosher. (ingredient-wise. At least I don't think is was.  He's keeping the recipe a secret.)

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Marc Diamond is the kind of working musician that other musicians dream they could be. Not only is Marc the guitarist for the legendary garage/punk band The Dwarves, but he has also worked with internet celebrity turned sleeze-punk front woman Texas Terri, Mondo Generator* (featuring former Queens of the Stone Age bassist Nick Oliveri) and his own band MotoChrist, who are currently recording an album with Marc's "old friend" Gilby Clarke. At one point in his youth, Marc was even a roadie for Steve Jones.

And did I mention that Marc is a BIG Jew?

I figured that a rock star like Marc wouldn't want to talk to me, so I was amazed when I got this email back from him after asking for an interview:

Oy Veh! It sounds like he's gonna plotz! It would be a mitzvah! I'm sure he is a real mentsh! We must educate the goyim! Forgive my chutzpah, not to kvetsh, but in keeping with our glorious tradition of money hording and controlling the world's economy, we must talk schekels, perhaps just a bissel in my pocket, yes?

Greatest. Email. Ever.

So I called Marc up at his home in Los Angeles. And after shooting the shit for a few minutes, I got down to business by asking Marc if being Jewish has influenced his music at all.

He said no. "I formed a band to meet girls."

"Crap, there goes the whole premise for the interview," I thought to myself. I was hoping to get some kind of Steven Lee Beeber-style Heebies Jeebies at CBGBs story about how being a Jew made Marc an outsider in his WASP community and drove him to play DIY music.

Marc was honest. He wasn't trying to end world hunger. In fact, he thinks the Bono-style Rock-and-Roll-Will-Save-the-World stuff is bullshit. At fifteen, Marc started playing guitar while listening to The Rolling Stones, The Ramones and The Beatles, all for the glory of getting laid.

And Marc fell in love with it. Now, with a wife and a new baby, Marc is still going strong with the same energy he had in his pussy-seeking teen years.

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There is a cheesecake sitting in my (boyfriend’s) refrigerator right now. At some point late last week I got it in my head that with Shavuot just around the corner I should make a cheesecake. Since I’m doing a time-share with my boyfriend’s kitchen, permission had to be granted by the relevant roommates, which was how I found myself late last night remembering how much I disliked baking.

But I’m terribly sentimental about food and of course my cheesecake comes with a story…

I went to Israel for the first time with the organization Livnot that in part markets their programs for people like me that (at the time at least) don’t know all that much about Judaism. Not only that, but I should also point out that I didn’t speak or read any Hebrew (sadly that hasn’t changed much, but I’m working on that). During the trip our group leaders referred to the participants as what sounded like “hevray,” which they told us was Hebrew for roughly “a community of friends.”

I found it endearing, but didn’t think too much about it until later in the program when I began to wonder why in all the literature the organization gave us they addressed us as cheese. “Hey Chevre, we are hiking Masada tomorrow so be up early…” Needless to say it took me quite a while to figure out that the chevre in this case was not the creamy goat’s cheese I had grown fond in France, but in fact that affectionate term “hevray” they had been calling us.

So after my, “oh, duh” moment, it gave me an idea. I loved chevre (goat’s cheese) cheesecake and had been working on my own version for a while. Since saying goat’s cheese cheesecake always seemed so redundant and silly, and not everyone knows what chevre cheesecake is, I could call me concoction Friends Cheesecake.

Okay, it’s a little corny, but here is the recipe used last night. I’ve been developing this over time, so I’m really interested in comments if anyone else gives it a try.

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I met someone special at Purim this past year.  It wasn’t love at first sight, not at all (after all, I was wearing a mask when we met). And it took some persistent and clever wooing on his part, but I am now very smitten.

It’s been a few months now, but my heart still races whenever I see him.  I get this big goofy grin on my face when I am with him.  He makes me want to be a better person.  In the past I’ve described myself as a conscientious omnivore, but he really challenges me (in good ways) to think about my food choices.   Needless to say things were going quite well.   We had gotten to the point in our relationship where he offered me some space in his apartment to keep some of my personal items, like a toothbrush and some clothes, stuff like that.

And that was just around the same time my lease in my apartment was up – so I moved.  Downsized along with the economy.  But what had been an hour-long commute between our separate boroughs, now became a 10-minute walk (shorter by bike).  And in my new place I would have a garden for the first time – all good things that somewhat made up for the fact that the apartment I was moving into was significantly smaller than my last one.  Whereas over the last two years I’ve been able to host 30-person sit-down dinners, Passover seders and other fun foodie events, the new place did not offer such accommodations.

But I didn’t despair since my new roommates appeared accommodating and understanding that I had lots of kitchen stuff and welcomed me to put it to good use in our dollhouse-like space.  That was until my stuff arrived crammed into my tiny U-Haul and seeing box after box fill this tiny new apartment brought dread to the dollhouse residents.

Storage seemed like the only plausible solution, but not having access to my kitchen tools seemed like an unfortunate punishment.  After talking to my boyfriend and his roommates, they offered me space in their comparably palatial kitchen.  I, in turn offered to cook for them to express my gratitude.  I seemed like a good deal, until I began to move myself in.

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Please, oh please, let this be true.

The Daily Mirror, a popular British tabloid, is reporting that supermodel Kate Moss is preparing to release her very own kosher cookbook. Moss apparently has prepared some kosher meals for her boyfriend, Jamie Hince, lead singer of band The Kills, and finds it so fun that she wants to make money off of it. Kate's recipes are apparently inspired by ones she learned from her friend, British socialite Stasha Palos, who has her own cookbook coming out this year. Kate has apparently learned to make latkes, chicken soup, and honey cake.

First of all, is Jamie Hince Jewish? I had no idea. Maybe he just happens to like Jewish food.

And secondly, Kate Moss publishing a cookbook? How could that not be the most hilarious thing ever? You know Gwyneth Paltrow is going to be so pissed that Kate is stealing her idea. Maybe Kate will do a sanctimonious email newsletter full of lifestyle "tips" next. I would seriously sign up for that. 

"SINGLE women DO cook!"

Why is it that so many people ask me, "You cook?" But you're single, right?"

WOW, I guess single women don't EAT, or they only order takeout. Why else would they need to cook WHOLESOME, HEALTHY meals, from SCRATCH!?? I guess it doesn't really matter what you cook when you are single. Meals are only made for two. Yeah, right.

Not my meals, baby. Although I can sometimes eat for two or three people, I most certainly enjoy cooking my own meals. Lunch, dinner, snacks...whatever.

Why do you think companies make "single" serving dishes? I guess, to the contrary, "couples" can't eat single serving dishes?

Either way, people are quick to judge and should just worry about their own kitchens.

Unless their kitchens are made from glass, they should not throw stones, or pasta.

As a matter of fact, even many men I date ask me the same thing or they are surprised that I know how to prepare more than a stack of takeout menus.

Don't get me wrong, takeout is great on occasion, as long as you aware of the chemicals and high salt content found in many of these dishes. And salad? Ok ladies, how much salad can a single person eat? Yes I know it appears to the self, that you are watching your diet, when you order a "salad." Do you really think everyone washes their hands thoroughly before preparing your RAW salad?

Ok, back to single women and cooking.

Most women today are professionals, meaning they work full time and have several after-work responsibilities. This can inhibit their cooking time. The answer to this is to prepare a few dishes for the week on Sunday or early in the week. They don't have to be elaborate. Light sandwiches for work, egg salad, dips, chicken cutlets with brown rice, almonds for snacking and some chocolate for decadent snacking.

Single women (or men, for that matter) should not deprive themselves or ever think they don't have "time" or "know how" to cook.

Take a basic cooking class or a more specialized one- i.e. baking, sushi-making etc. These classes are not only tons of fun, they are great ways to meet friends and mates.

We all know how sexy cooking together can be! Cooking solo, while may not sound sexy, is definitely self motivating and rewarding. You feel accomplished and satiated at the same time.

So get out there (or in there-to the kitchen), single ladies AND gents. Be proud of all of your accomplishments and just be proud of who YOU ARE!

Remember, "there are no such things as failures, only unwanted results!"

Add a little "seasoning" to your life and start cooking, you single gourmets!

Sandy on her getaway vegetable bike

Watching Chef Sandy Stollar cook is kind of like having front row seats at the Daytona 500. Born in Queens to a Colombian-Argentinean Jewish family, Stollar embodies all the fast-paced energy of a native New Yorker, and all the credentials to make it in the big city.

Unlike most (ahem, all?) kosher chefs, Stollar trained at the Culinary Institute of America (CIA) and shined her knives at some of the best non-kosher restaurants in New York City (the Russian Tea Room, Osteria del Circo, etc.) More recently, she started her own private chef business called The Kosher Tomato, which caters to Jewish individuals and families across New York and New Jersey. She also teaches cooking classes at the Center for Kosher Culinary Arts in Brooklyn – a school which houses the first accredited kosher culinary training program in America.

Stollar, who was recently featured in the “Heeb 100,” is undoubtedly one to watch in the coming years. Below, she shares which foods she misses most from her pre-kashrut days, her thoughts on why kosher cuisine has such a sketchy reputation, and her favorite ways to make a nice piece of chicken.

You've said that you're so passionate about food that you even get excited about tomatoes. Where does that passion come from for you?

That is really a hard question, believe it or not. I don't want to say it's because I am good at it, because in the beginning I probably wasn't. But as far back as I can remember, I always had an unquenchable thirst for anything food-related. I believe it has to do with the fact that cooking is an art that uses all of our senses. It's like the old adage "the way to a man's heart is through his stomach"- I think this applies to anyone.

You got your culinary training at the CIA-essentially the butter and bacon capital of the world. When/why did you decide to go kosher?

CIA is known as the Harvard of culinary schools. At the time, I was not strictly kosher, and I knew I would get the best education there. About 2 years after graduating, I met someone (now an ex-boyfriend) who influenced my thinking about keeping kosher and Judaism. He basically said, “If you're not even home on Shabbat [to celebrate], how will you continue your traditions and teach them to your children? That was enough to make me want to start changing [and become more observant]. I was really into him and in a way, I suppose, I wanted to do it for him.

I made the transition [into the kosher world] by working at Levana, a kosher restaurant on the Upper West Side of New York, and knew that this is what I needed to continue doing. A couple years down the line, I started The Kosher Tomato, Inc.

What do you miss most from your pre-kosher days?

I miss working with all those great chefs and having the opportunity to learn from them. Not to say that there aren't any great kosher chefs, but I think that notion is relatively new, now that Jews are becoming more interested gourmet food.I also miss using exotic ingredients from around the world – like Thai fish sauce, sirloin steak, curry pastes without certification, gelatin, etc. – things that we cannot use because of kosher restrictions.

Are there any ingredients that you consistently have a hard time finding with a hekhsher?

I have not found mascarpone cheese yet. Other than that, I do pretty well.

Kosher cuisine has gained a reputation as being sub-par to other cuisines. Why do you think that is? Do you think there is any truth in that critique?

Honestly, somewhat! I believe that as a culture, we have had too much happen in our history to focus on food! Also, as other cultures did, we used ingredients that were abundant where we lived, but we are also limited by that, as well as by our dietary laws. In other words – if you have a lot of potatoes growing nearby, your cuisine will revolve around potatoes. You can only be so creative!

However, I definitely think this is changing with great kosher restaurants opening – places like Prime Grill, Solo, Le Marais, Park East, and Abigael’s in Manhattan – and a growing interest in good, kosher cuisine.

What is your opinion on using standard (but often unhealthy) kosher "substitutes" like margarine and non-dairy whip?

I think there are good reasons why [in the kashrut system] we are meant not to eat certain ingredients, and also certain ingredients together. I think we should keep it that way! Healthy and natural.

Most of my clients do not have a problem with this – in general, they don't want to mess around with fresh, simple cuisine. In fact, I have a weekly client that I wanted to use soymilk for once for a cream soup (which I don't personally think is as bad), but she was not into that idea at all.

What is your personal mission/vision as a chef?

I think that it's pretty simple - I want to offer affordable and practical chef services of all kinds to the Jewish community.

I focus on the Jewish community because I am part of that community - I know the culture and have found my niche. There aren't many personal chefs focusing only on kosher food preparation, so I think I have an advantage there. Ultimately, I want to [positively] influence the way the Jewish community eats. I'm not sure how that will happen yet – all I know is that I would like to make a difference.

What foods do you personally cook/eat most often? What do you eat most when you're on the run?

I love chicken, so I eat that a lot - chicken glazed with pomegranate is excellent and coconut lemongrass chicken with citrus dressing and chicken with mango salsa are some of my favorites. When I am on the run, I usually grab either a sandwich, yogurt, a snack bar or fruit.

How is the current economy affecting your business? Are you finding people more reluctant to hire a personal chef? Or are people looking for more opportunities to eat at home?

Ironically, our current economic situation is not impacting me as much as I thought. Maybe it's like you suggested - people are looking for more opportunities to eat at home. Plus, people always want to eat healthier than they do, and my services help them. Overall, I think people hire me for the practicality.

If you could cook for anyone in the world (past or present) - who would it be and why?

If I could cook for anyone, I think it would be Chef Gray Kunz. He is an amazing chef, mentor, and person in general who I worked with for a short while at Spice Market.

Top Chef Hung Huynh Says: meet me at 56th and madisonKosher-keeping New York fans of Top Chef's season three winner, Hung Huynh, are in for a tasty treat: The incredibly creative cook has officially begun a one-month stint as Executive Chef at Solo, a Midtown Manhattan Mediterranean-Asian fusion glatt kosher restaurant. Try saying that three times fast with your mouth full of pickled veal tongue. (Why is veal kosher, by the way, when it's so undeniably cruel?)

Huynh set up camp at Solo yesterday, and will remain in the kitchen there through early April. Though the restaurant has been inundated by a deluge of emails and phone calls, space is still available and reservations are welcome.

Related: Jamie Oliver Is Not In Training To Be A Shochet

 

This summer I was reunited with a friend I hadn’t seen in seven years, and it was like being given an amazing present. Though we’ve always kept in touch, months sometimes passed between conversations, and I never totally knew what was going on in her life. But suddenly this summer we were in the same city, and slowly but surely we became those annoying BFF girls who constantly quote each other and say shit like, “Oh my god, I love you so much it’s CRAZY!” Maybe you don’t want to be quite that close with anyone this year, but you probably have someone you’d like to hang out with more, or someone who you always mean to have plans with, but never do. Here are some tips for restarting your stalled and/or jammed friendships in the new year.

 

Lift a glass: It's important to make time in your schedule for regular drinkingMake Every Other Tuesday Cocktail and Cake Night
You and your college roommate/high school bff/work friend from your last job have been e-mailing for months with the same subject line: “Let’s hang out soon.” Yet somehow it never happens. To put an end to the empty promises, try making a regular get-together. Use Time to Meet—a free online scheduling tool—to find times when you’re both free. Then set up a regular date: Watching Heroes together every Monday, or getting dollar margaritas at the dive bar around the corner every other Wednesday. Once you build it into your schedule you’re less likely to skip it, and even if you do have to beg off every once in a while, you won’t have to worry that you’ll end up going six months without seeing your Primetime Partner.

 

Use Up All Your Forever Stamps
Want to reconnect with a friend who’s been out of touch for years? Buy a bunch of postcards, stamp them, and address them all to your friend. Keep one or two in your purse/laptop bag/briefcase to whip out the next time you get stuck in line at Starbucks or in gridlocked traffic. You don’t need a fancy message, just a “hey! What’s up? Thinking of you…” Drop the card in the mail the next time you pass a mailbox. After receiving a few cute cards, your friend is sure to respond with a sweet email at the very least. Find awesome sassy postcards here and here

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Whip Cream. Whip It Good.
Having some communication issues with your friend? Check out My Fresh Start, a website with a plan that’ll get things flowing more smoothly between the two of you, and will sharpen your cooking skills at the same time. Each friend receives a recipe with a different half covered. Using cell phones and IM in their kitchens, each friend talks the other through their half of the recipe. At the end of cooking, the friends remove the sticker to reveal the complete recipe. The service is really designed to teach you and your friends to cook healthier meals, but it can also be great at getting you to talk to each other in a helpful, fun way. And since you aren’t actually in the same kitchen, you won’t have to suffer through any backseat cooking—one of my major pet peeves. (Thrifty types, take note: You could really improvise the whole program without signing up or paying for anything.)

 

Human interaction is healthy: Tom should not be your only friendSign off MySpace
If your best friend acknowledged your birthday this year by posting something on your Facebook wall, the two of you are relying too much on technology. As Kathy Sierra points out on her metacognition blog Creating Passionate users, neuroscientists have found that the brain needs and expects body language, facial expressions, and tone of voice during communication. When they don't come, the brain suffers (and so does the communication). For a few weeks cut out IM, Gchat, Facebook, Skype, MySpace and text messaging—even phone calls if possible. It will force you to actually pay attention to each other in a non multi-tasking way, and that will help get things going again.

 

Get yourself a nemesis.
If things are going sour with a friend, consider the possibility that he’s your nemesis. In one of my all-time favorite essays, Chuck Klosterman argues that the key to being great is having a nemesis and an archenemy. “We measure ourselves against our nemeses, and we long to destroy our archenemies. Nemeses and archenemies are the catalysts for everything.” Nemeses can only nudge you toward glory, albeit in an obnoxiously competitive way.

(x-posted from Lilith Magazine's Blog - I thought this would be of interest to Jewcy readers - especially my mom's secret chocolate cake recipe at the bottom)

Last week I went home to Chicago, and boy was the living easy. My parents escorted me home from the airport where my mother’s gazpacho and a roasted potato frittata waited. Oatmeal chocolate chip cookies rested in a tin lined with wax paper in case I wanted dessert (I did). The next day we got up for an early stroll through my neighborhood’s farmers’ market, stopping at the stands for sweet corn, heirloom tomatoes the color of watermelon flesh, and squeaky cheese curds from Wisconsin, which the stand keeper proudly announced had been made at 1:30pm the previous day.Now (if I may be so bold), local vegetables are my territory. I organize CSAs across the country and belong to one in Brooklyn. I shop religiously at farmers’ markets, regularly cook all-vegetable meals, and get depressed in the winter–not because the weather is gloomy, but because the lack of available produce in the Northeast leaves a gaping hole on my plate and in my heart. So, I was excited to go home with this bounty–to slip slices of that tomato between mozzarella and basil, or pair those salty cheese nuggets with a ripe honeydew melon.

But just as I started fussing in the kitchen, my mom walked in. Soon she was chopping the cucumber for the salad I was preparing, and grabbing her sweet balsamic vinaigrette out of the fridge without consultation.

“Can I help you with anything,” I heard myself saying, despite being the one to initiate the food making.

“Oh, I’m almost done,” she said, turning to arrange slices of raisin challah on a plate.

I grumbled as I plopped down onto the couch, waiting for her to finish making lunch. Before I’d realized what happened, and without her explicitly meaning to, she had kicked me out of her kitchen. Then again, that’s the way it had always been.

Like many traditional “Jewish mothers,” food is one of my mom’s primary ways of showing love - memories of her fragrant soups, chicken and dumplings, and butter cream frosted birthday cakes laced with coffee, wrap me in reverie whenever I’m in a bad food mood. Somewhere along the line, however, I grew up without learning any of her kitchen secrets.

My mother never beckoned me to her stove, dipping my finger in the soup broth to show me how it should feel before dropping in the matzah balls. She never taught me how to braise greens or scrape the good bits from the bottom of a pan into a sauce with a little wine. Occasionally she asked me to arrange a fruit plate for company, but usually I was in charge of polishing the good silver and setting the table while the smells from her domestic sanctuary swirled throughout the house.

Perhaps she felt an urge to control her cutting boards, or simply did not have the patience to watch me scorch a pot. Or maybe she guarded mealtime as her time to shine. Granted, I did not show a natural inclination towards cooking at a young age. But it had been drilled into me early on that the kitchen was her domain.

It was not until college that I was finally exposed to the tricks of the oven. I lived in a housing co-op where my 16 hippie housemates and I took turns cooking and cleaning for ourselves and the sundry guests who would show up expecting a nourishing meal they could not find in the dining hall. For the first few weeks I slated myself for cleanup duty, embarrassed that I didn’t already know how to make a good tofu pad thai or roasted tomato soup.

Overtime, however, I began to watch my housemates, observing their culinary prowess over open books and half-finished assignments. Through them I learned how to sauté garlic - not so long that it burned but long enough to coax out the heady juices. I learned how to bake fresh bread and apple rhubarb crumble, and improvise from the cookbooks that sat on an overstuffed shelf.

Slowly, over the year I dried my novice wings to the point where I looked forward to my turn to cook. I took pride in my meals, churning out industrial-sized pans of vegetable lasagna and humungous bowls of green salad with goat cheese and caramelized walnuts. When I came home to Chicago for breaks however, I was thrown squarely back into the sidelines. Occasionally my brother–also a self-taught cook–and I would be allowed to offer a Greek salad or a pan of vegetable fried rice to our family meals. To her credit, my mother would go out of her way to compliment our contributions as if they were the center of the meal. She was sincere, but she wasn’t fooling anyone.

On this most recent trip home, however, I opened up the fridge to find free-range eggs and organic milk on the shelves. The crisper drawer revealed our farmers’ market bounty as well as package of tofu. I asked her if she purchased the tofu on my behalf.

“You know? I actually prefer it to meat now and then,” she said.

When I became a vegetarian at the age of seventeen, I started a personal quest to get my family to stop eating meat and switch to organic food. After years of frustration battling against the Midwestern status quo, I toned down my message. My dad was never going to give up chicken and steak, and my mom cooked for my dad. But after college I continued my campaign from a different angle, talking up my work with farmers and expounding on the miracle of local produce whenever I had the opportunity. At some point along the way, it seems that my message came through.

So while I will never be my mother’s sous chef, here it was - proof in her immaculate fridge – that a part of me has made its way into her kitchen.

My Mom’s “Moistest Chocolate Cake”

This cake was a birthday staple in my house. I used to love mine decorated with roses made from the frosting below, colored with a little red food coloring. These days, I’d probably use a drop or two of beet juice instead.

2 cups flour
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking powder
¾ cup cocoa
1 tsp real vanilla
2 cups raw sugar
1 cup canola or vegetable oil
1 cup organic milk
2 eggs (free range, of course)
1 cup hot coffee

Combine dry ingredients. Add oil, hot coffee and milk. Mix at a medium speed for 2 minutes. Add eggs and vanilla and beat 2 minutes more. Pour into a greased and floured 9×13 or layer cake pan. Bake 25-30 minutes at 350 degree.
Frosting:

1/2 lb powdered sugar
2-3 tbsp milk
1 ½ heaping tsp soft butter
1 tsp vanilla

Beat with mixer 3-5 minutes. If too thick, add milk, a smidge at a time. Variation: add 2 tbsp cocoa for chocolate frosting.

Chickpeas, also known as Garbanzo beans, are those little flesh colored legumes that come in a Goya can. Sometimes they're mashed into a creamy paste by Sabra - or some other inferior brand of hummus. At least that's what I thought until tonight's dinner.

The blacker the chickpea, the sweeter the hummusI went over to a friend's apartment to make supper, and along with fresh green beans, ripe tomatoes, and multiple bulbs of garlic, she whipped out a bowl of what looked like dried out raisins. "They're heirloom chickpeas," she said. "My sister got them for me." WTF? On closer inspection these brown spheres did resemble a bean, but definitely not the plump spheres I occasionally tossed into green salads. But that's just the thing about heirloom vegetables. Most of the vegetables found in supermarkets are bred (or genetically modified) to 1. look pretty 2. stand up to the long distances they travel from farm to table. Heirlooms are, as their name suggests, an older variety of a plant that has been largely knocked off the agricultural playing field. If you've ever wondered why heirloom tomatoes often look so ugly, it's because they pre-date our cultural obsession for fat, uniform - and tasteless - produce.

According to Madhur Jaffery, author of the James Beard Award Winning, World Vegetarian cookbook (and one of the fiercest foodies out there): "Chickpeas originated in ancient times, probably in the southern Caucasus region, helping to feed Turkey, Syria, Iran, and Armenia...The early chickpea was probably small and dark, and was eventually bred to be large and pale."

These chickpeas were not gorgeous, but upon tasting one I was more than willing to overlook trivial things like surface beauty. My friend and I made fresh hummus, which resembled a black bean dip and literally made my night. Check out the recipe below.

Heirloom Hummus

(This recipe is very loosely based on Jaffrey's "Bead Hummus." Like a good bubbe's recipe, the quantities are approximate. Just fuss around with it until it "looks right.")

• 2 cups chick peas (black or "kala chana" if you can find them - otherwise Goya will do the trick)
• 4-5 cloves garlic (whole, skins removed)
• 4-5 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
• 1 1/2 tablespoons tahini
• 1-2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
  
• 4 sprigs fresh mint
• 1/4 teaspoon cayenne
• 1 3/4 teaspoon salt
  

Puree the chick peas and garlic cloves in a food processor until roughly chopped. Add all other ingredients and process again until smooth. Taste and adjust seasoning, tahini, etc. until you reach the right consistency and flavor.

 

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Time to Make the Matzah: Calling all kids!I don't understand the deal with buying Shmura Matzah. I don't think it tastes very good, and it's really really expensive.

And I don't think I believe that we really have any idea what matzah looked like back when the children of Israel were fleeing their bondage at all. Is there actually somewhere in the Torah that tells us they made big round flat loaves? And if so, how did they transport them without breakage? Should shmura matzah really look like a pile of shmura crumbs at the bottom of a dirty cloth bag?

BUT!

Regardless of my preference for the cheap machine-made matzah... I'm a big believer in DIY, and I think it's really fun to MAKE MY OWN MATZAH!

As you well know if you've read Faithhacker much at all, I think that getting your hands dirty is almost always a good way to make traditions more meaningful. Maybe because I like to get messy, and maybe because I'm just cheap, but in any case...

You should give it a try. ESPECIALLY if you have kids around you can involve in the fun.

Of course, your matzah won't be kosher (unless you have rabbi friends willing to come oversee your dough-fest). But you can make it this weekend and enjoy it before the holiday starts... or feed it to the ducks, or whatev...

If you haven’t had the chance to attend the original Latke Hamantaschen Debate at the University of Chicago, well, that’s sad for you, because it’s brilliant. But if you’ve missed any of the last seventy years’ debates you can still buy the book, which is pretty sweet.

I bring this up because I made hamantaschen last night, and I feel strongly that my particular recipe is Divinely inspired. Hamantaschen and hummus are pretty much the reason I believe in God.

But just for the sake of argument let’s assume your hamantaschen are the dry crumbly kind and are void of all inspiration. Are you going to write them off entirely as just one of those dumb things Jews make because we like an excuse to make sweets?
Hamantaschen Baking at the Foxhole: Poppyseed, the godfather of Purim treats
Well first of all, we probably didn’t come up with it on our own. There’s a Swedish Cookie that’s eerily similar, called Napoleon’s Hat. Were the cookies around before Napoleon? How far back do Hamantaschen go? I have no idea, and I just spent 45 minutes looking for an academic article about it on ProQuest to no avail.

But if you are looking for some spiritual backing for hamantaschen look no further than this article from Aish titled, “The Deeper Meaning of Hamentaschen.” The accompanying graphic is a hamentaschen in outer space. Deep space, one assumes. Heavy.

I don’t have any particularly exciting graphics, but I do have a Jewish food theory. First of all, food is holy in any form. I mean, we have to say blessings and everything, so we know that we have to have a certain respect for what we eat. And on Purim in particular we’re supposed to give each other little packages of food and then come together for a big feast. Food is a reasonable way for us to share and come together. And yeah, we’ve got some wacky ideas about how our cookies are related to the holiday, but ultimately just making food and sitting down together…Well, that ends up being pretty spiritual.

Unless you have those dry crumbly hamantaschen, in which case you probably hate God. So in the name of Kiddush Hashem (making God look good) here’s my recipe:
1 cup OJ
1 cup margarine
1 1/2 cup sugar
2 egg yolks
1/2 t vanilla
1/2 t lemon extract
6 c flower
2 t baking soda

Combine butter and sugar, add egg yolks, OJ, vanilla and lemon. Mix and add dry ingredients. Roll out dough and using biscuit cutters or the edge of a can make circles of dough. In each circle spoon a half teaspoon or so of your topping of choice. Traditionally there are poppy seed, strawberry, raspberry, apricot, and occasionally chocolate. (I believe prune hamantaschen are the work of the devil, but suit yourself). Pinch the corners in three places so that you have a triangle shaped cookie with walls that hold in the filling. Bake on greased cookie sheets at 350 for 15 minutes.

Put your feet up, and eat the fruits of your labor while watching The Chosen and drinking a Sepharadi. Congratulate yourself for being so Jewish.