November 17, 2018

A Food Pyramid for Stir-Crazy Kids

I’ve loved being in the kitchen since childhood. I had a slew of aunts who cooked and a mother who always had something pickling, simmering or baking. In an extreme case of foreshadowing, my favorite toy as a child was my Easy-Bake Oven. I vividly remember watching my cakes bake, which took a long time considering the oven’s only heat source was a small light bulb. Because I was an only child, I’d gather my stuffed animals and serve them tea and cake and fuss over them much like I do now over my customers in my cafe. 

I’m now that “auntie” with whom parents are slightly reluctant to leave their kids. The weekends my friends have let me entertain their offspring, the kids are returned sugar-rushed, overly excited, sleep-deprived little monsters covered in flour or chocolate — usually both. I have a special weakness for children, and I like to get them into the kitchen (preferably their parents’ kitchen) and let them go wild. Food fights ensue, singing and dancing always figure into it, and crazy lava-like experimentations occur. Usually, I’m the one who gets the stern looks and the worried pleas to “please just don’t blow anything up.” In all fairness to me, that happened only once but parents have such long memories.

No sooner than the pesky adults are out the door, utter mayhem ensues. Even introverted children can be brought out of their shells by spending some time in the kitchen. It’s almost miraculous to see the transformation in a child during a no-holds-barred cooking session.

“Even introverted children can be brought out of their shells by  spending some time in the kitchen.”

Sometimes, if I sense a child is distracted or losing interest, I’ll take something gooey and I’ll just lob it over to them or smear it on their faces. I live for their expressions of shock as they return the favor, watching them realize that they can have a food fight with an adult without fear of penalty. There’s only one rule in my kitchen time with kids — no phones, iPads or computers of any kind — unless it’s a music device. After all, disconnecting children from electronic baby-sitters and screens for a few hours just can’t be a bad thing.

Even surly teenagers enjoy kitchen time, especially when the result is mastery of something they love to eat, such as pizza or quesadillas. I’ve had the deepest conversations with teens while cooking with them — sometimes they will even confide in me about something that is bothering them and ask my opinion about it. It’s so soul filling when a child opens up and tells you their hopes or fears. Bonding with kids in this way, besides being one of life’s supreme joys, invariably cements their affection for life.

The kitchen is one part of a home that is a sacred space where most of us feel safe. Positive connections and feelings that are associated with it can stick in a child’s mind well into adulthood. Rather than associating stepping into the kitchen as a chore, like many adults do, the simple act of baking, letting the house fill with the aromas of cinnamon and vanilla is magical and apt to leave an impression that never goes away.

This is the time of year in Israel when the weather gets chilly, the sweet shops begin selling sufganiyot for Hanukkah, and it’s when the ultimate kid sweet comes out: Krembo. Krembo, an Israeli confection that consists of a delicate dome of marshmallow-type fluff that sits atop a round biscuit base covered in a thin coating of cheap, waxy chocolate. It isn’t sold during summertime because it melts easily.   

In Uganda where I live, there’s no Krembo, and most times I can’t even find decent marshmallows, so I’ve made do with a cake that approximates the heavenly Krembo combination and is a fun project to make with kids. It’s more of an assembly project and requires no baking and very little kitchen equipment — only a hand mixer, although a wire whisk will do in a pinch. I’ve made it when I have last-minute dinner guests because it’s elegant enough to serve to adults and can be ready in under an hour. It’s a lovely cake my aunt used to make called a pyramida (pyramid), and I dare you to find a kid who will not love you for it, not only for teaching them how to make it, but for letting them eat it for breakfast or in place of dinner. 

Pyramid Cake
1 package vanilla-flavored instant pudding
5 tablespoons sugar
1 1/2 cups whipping cream
1 3/4 cups whole or 2-percent milk
1 cup mascarpone cheese
42 Petit Beurre cookies (2 inches by 3 inches)
4 1/2 ounces bittersweet chocolate
1/2 teaspoon instant coffee
1 teaspoon honey
4 tablespoons white chocolate shavings or sprinkles (optional)

For the filling, place pudding mix, sugar, 1 cup whipping cream, 1 cup milk and cheese in a medium-sized bowl and whip with a hand mixer until thick and stiff peaks form. Refrigerate cream while you prepare the base.

On a countertop, put 2 layers of extra heavy aluminum foil (or wax paper) down on top of each other. Pour 3/4 cup milk in a bowl and proceed to briefly dip each cookie in the milk and lay them down in 3 rows, side by side — vertically. You should end up with a rectangle of cookies that is 3 rows wide and 7 rows long. 

Remove cream from refrigerator and spread a bit more than half the cream on top of the biscuits evenly until the surface area of the cookies is covered. Add another layer of cookies on top of the cream — but this time, the middle row of cookies should be placed vertically while the 2 outer rows of cookies should be laid down horizontally. This will make a pyramid shape. With a spoon, put remaining cream only on the center row of cookies. Don’t spread the cream onto the outer biscuits.

Using both arms, slip hands and forearms underneath each length of the foil and gently bring hands together, pressing the two flaps together to form the pointed top of the pyramid. Peel back foil, and using an offset spatula or knife, neaten up the cream and remove excess. Wrap the cake in the foil it’s on but be sure to close both ends well so as not to dry out the cream. Place in the freezer for at least 30 minutes. 

After the cake has hardened, make the ganache. Break or chop chocolate into smaller pieces, add to remaining 1/2 cup of cream and instant coffee in a microwave-safe bowl. Microwave for 1 minute. Let mixture sit for 1 minute, add honey and whisk until chocolate is melted and ganache is shiny and homogenous.

Remove cake from freezer, unwrap and evenly pour ganache on top of pyramid, taking care to cover all the cookies in chocolate. Decorate with white chocolate or sprinkles before the ganache hardens and return it to freezer or refrigerator to set for at least 1 hour.

After cake has set, slide a spatula under the base and transfer to a long serving dish, discard the foil and slice into 1-inch wide triangles for serving.

Serves 10.

Yamit Behar Wood, an Israeli-American food and travel writer, is the executive chef at the U.S. Embassy in Kampala, Uganda, and founder of the New York Kitchen Catering Co. 

Time’s Running Out on Uganda’s Poor ‘Rolex’ Vendors

One of the best ways to get insight into a culture is through its street food. And currently here in Kampala, Uganda, what you discover can leave a bad taste in your mouth.

Food here is eaten sitting down rather than on the go, and roughly 95 percent of the local fare is based on cheap, nutrient-deficient carbohydrates such as cassava or posho, a finely ground maize flour cooked into a thick, white paste and eaten with peas or beans. Even Uganda’s national food, matoke, a variety of banana cooked in its own leaves over charcoal and then mashed and served with a sauce made from ground peanuts (called “gnuts”), is rarely served with protein, although sometimes you can get it with a small amount of bony meat cooked in a watery stew. But there is one notable exception to this rule: the Rolex. While the Swiss watch of that name may be a status symbol for the rich and powerful in the West, a Rolex here is a decidedly different thing. 

Rolex, translated from the local language, means “rolled eggs.” It is essentially an omelet rolled up in a chapati, an Indian flatbread that, when made correctly, has flakey layers like a croissant. The Rolex was the brainchild of a resourceful entrepreneur who set up a stand to feed hungry students at Makerere University, also known as the “Harvard of East Africa.” Until recently — more on that later — you could easily pull up to one of the thousands of Rolex carts that lined every thoroughfare and watch as a nimble-fingered Rolex man (only men make Rolex for some reason) cracked two eggs into a plastic mug and cut in shredded cabbage, tomato and red onion with a rusty knife. He would then cook the omelet on a charcoal stove with an iron plate resting precariously on top. When the omelet had browned on both sides, he would roll it up in the chapati like a burrito before depositing it in a small plastic bag for the ravenous customer — all for a mere 1,500 Ugandan shillings (less than 40 cents).

It may not sound like much, but to the tens of thousands of students on a meager budget, or the expats­­ with nary a fast-food option for miles, the Rolex is the hot, fresh and filling snack that dreams are made of. Its simple concept in this city’s protein-deprived, carbohydrate-laden street food landscape caught on like wildfire.

“It may not sound like much, but to the tens of thousands of students on a meager budget, or the expats­­ with nary a fast-food option for miles, the Rolex is the hot, fresh and filling snack that dreams are made of.”

Kampala, like most other sub-Saharan African cities, has grown exponentially over the past few decades with little to no infrastructure improvements to bear the load. As the middle class has swelled, so has the number of cars and traffic. During the rainy season, the potholed and weathered roads are reduced to rivers of terra-cotta-colored mud and rushing waters. Navigating your car in those conditions — between the reckless boda boda mopeds and the old matatus van “buses” that are rolling deathtraps — is akin to driving in a video game. Add to that mix the fact that most people buy their drivers licenses rather than sit for an examination or pay hefty fees for a legitimate driving school, and you end up with traffic jams that make Los Angeles rush hours seem like moments to put the top down and let the wind blow through your hair. 

Enter government bureaucracy in the form of the Kampala Capital City Authority (KCCA), which recently decided to take the estimated 10,000 Rolex and other street vendors and arrest them for operating without licenses. As a result, thousands of these vendors shut down almost overnight rather than risk being arrested for operating an illegal stand and possibly going to jail. Unlucky vendors could lose not only their stock and carts, but they could also be on the hook to pay a minimum fine of 100,000 Ugandan shillings (about $27), which may as well be $10,000 to a cart owner barely eking out a marginal living from 12-hour workdays. To make matters worse, if the corrupt Ugandan police want to put the squeeze on a particular vendor who is unable to pay their fine (or bribe) on the spot, that vendor can be thrown in jail. A Ugandan jail shares greater similarities with a Third World dog kennel than it does with a place fit for humans.

Consequently, weary vendors can either take their chances at operating an illegal stand or pursue the nearly impossible option of obtaining an extremely expensive KCCA license — which still doesn’t guarantee they won’t be harassed by police. While the logic behind regulating food carts, and the fees charged to vendors to license them may have some merits, the uprooting of thousands of food cart owners in Kampala has contributed to yet another sad downward spiral of poverty and joblessness.

By the way, I still frequent my favorite Rolex vendor as often as I can — when I can find him. These days he’s always moving around to avoid the police.

I fear the writing is on the wall: As Kampala’s skyline continues to expand, its food cart entrepreneurs will soon disappear — perhaps to be replaced by fancy, solar-powered stands run by companies making “legalized” carts. The costs of those units will be well out of reach of any of the original stand owners who support their families on their meager, hard-earned profits. The new model will also create another potential revenue stream for Uganda’s already bloated government officials. 

While some could argue that the government’s action is progress — after all, the legal carts won’t require charcoal, so they won’t pollute the environment; and customers of the carts will benefit from the “health and hygiene” mandate of the city council — I’m reminded that in much of Africa, the story of progress usually spells disaster for those who can least afford it.

Most of the current vendors are as likely to come up with the money to buy a compliant cart as they are to purchase an actual Rolex watch. 

Yes, you can tell a lot about a culture by its street food. For the vendors, their families and their customers in Kampala, the probable demise of the Rolex carts will be hard to swallow.

Yamit Behar Wood, an Israeli-American food and travel writer, is the executive chef at the U.S. Embassy in Kampala, Uganda, and founder of the New York Kitchen Catering Co. 

With Special-Needs Education, One Menu Doesn’t Fit All

Photo by CHLOE.

I recently saw an advertisement for The Lemon Tree Kids and Family Restaurant in Koreatown. Intrigued, I Googled it, to see if “family friendly” meant a play space, pizza and sugar, and indeed it didbut with a twist. The main menu consists of authentic Korean food; the pizzas and paninis are alternatives.

Ever the education-analogy-geek, I wondered about this as a model of inclusion. If you’re in Koreatown for Korean food and you have kids, and/or pizza loving friends, or if you’re looking for a place to have a quiet meal while your kids empty the contents of the ball pit, this is for you. People with differing taste buds can dine together, having their mozzarella or spicy noodles and eating them too.

This, the food court model of different classes for different needs, does not  – yet – exist in Jewish day schools in Los Angeles. Instead, we aspire to include students with needs in our mainstream set-up. Sure, they may be pulled out for resource, but there is no “special day class.”  Ideally, as Dr. Bruce Powell suggested in a recent interview with the Jewish Journal, we should include everyone, and not just accommodate, but “replace the word ‘accommodate’ with ‘embrace’:

‘If you’re coming to my home and you tell me you’re a vegetarian, I accommodate you,” he said by way of explanation. “You’re the other, [but] if I’m going to really embrace you, I’m going plan a meal that looks the same. And nobody [will know] which one is meat and which one is vegetarian.’”

“What if you have 20 students in a classroom and five of them need accommodations, or in Powell’s terms, embracings? Is it possible?”

Rather than be embarrassed with an obviously special meal, you can blend into the gathering. This may be manageable with guests in the home, but what if you have 20 students in a classroom and five of them need accommodations, or in Powell’s terms, embracings? Is it possible?

You might stay up all night adding secret ingredients to make a lesson palatable for Sam, Molly, Jacob and Annabelle, but you’ll be exhausted – maybe resentful – when it comes to serving it up. And believe me, the kids you’re struggling to embrace will pick up on your mood. Children with special needs sometimes have the cognitive and/ or sensory equivalent of allergies that give them rashes, or that exclude them from activities in which they long to participate. This can cause them to hide under tables, hit, scream, or run from the room. How can a teacher simultaneously embrace students with “big feelings” and students with their, or their parents’, big academic dreams?

When you’re at a restaurant in Los Angeles, you often hear customers ask for adaptations to a dish. Maybe you do it yourself. Sometimes it’s because you just have a preference for a mixture of two different dishes. That’s child-centered education. Sometimes it’s because you have a health condition that makes a dish with nuts or butter a no-no. That’s a series of meetings and carefully drafted goals for a child with special needs, otherwise known as an IEP (Individualized Education Program).

No matter how much you try to make your accommodations, or embracings, subtle and well-meaning, the mainstream is the mainstream, with its focus on language skills. We Jews prioritize language. Not just because of the way education is designed, but because of the very underpinnings of the Jewish tradition. We talk; we question; we opine. And it’s divine. After all, didn’t God create the world with words? Didn’t the commentators have at their fingertips every verse of Torah? What does that mean for a child with a language disorder?

The Lemon Tree is unusual. Usually, if you walk into an Italian restaurant wanting Korean food, you’ll be sent away. If you’re lucky, you’ll be pointed in the direction of a really good Korean place right around the corner.

Most of us wouldn’t think of going into a Korean restaurant and demanding fish and chips. If we own an Italian restaurant, we wouldn’t think twice about gently sending away a customer asking for spicy noodles. So why do we do this in education? Why do we seat, and keep seated, students we cannot feed, because even if we embrace them in our hearts we don’t have the resources to provide a dish that will nourish them? If they want a different menu and it’s elsewhere, let’s direct them with compassion to the appropriate establishment. And let’s become familiar with, and talk to, the establishments in our extended community, so that we know where to send the students we just cannot keep.

As Jewish institutions, we might worry that by denying our children kosher sustenance, we’re sending them into the abyss of an un-hechshered establishment. This is why the model to which we should aspire is perhaps a hechshered Lemon Tree. If you can handle the main menu, that’s great. If you want an alternative, something that’s familiar to you, it’s here— with chefs on staff who know how to prepare it. And when it comes to the jungle gym at the heart of the restaurant, we can all hang together.

Orley Garber is the founder of Builder Bees.

Boosting the Israeli flavors, Balaboosta is back!

Chef Einat Admony

As steam rises from multiple dishes that are being prepped to go out to their waiting diners, it’s apparent that the real-life Balaboosta, Chef Einat Admony, is the embodiment of the name she chose for her recently reopened restaurant. In what just might be the city’s fastest comeback, Balaboosta is now located in the West Village right between Chef Einat’s first restaurant, Taim Falafel, and her latest, Kish-Kash.

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Oh Yes She Can! 💪🏼 and she did! @ChefEinat re-opend @BalaboostaNYC and it is fierce! . Now located at 611 Hudson St. this place is the hottest place in town! . Einat Admony is chef and owner of the
@Balaboostanyc, @KishKashNYC @TaimFalafel restaurants in New York City and author of
Balaboosta: Bold Mediterranean Recipes to
Feed the People You Love. . Her life has been an adventure. After growing up in Tel Aviv, she secured illicit rations for her kitchen as a cook in the Israeli Army, walked away from college
after two months, traipsed around Germany as a gypsy, then packed up her life to move to New York City and work at “a million venerable kitchens around the city,” according to The New Yorker. Then things got interesting. . Inspired by the street food of her native Tel Aviv,
Einat opened the falafel joint Taïm (tah·eem) in Manhattan’s West Village in 2005. In 2010, she launched Balaboosta where the manner of cooking is not so much Middle Eastern as Mediterranean. In 2018 she opened her third restaurant Kish-Kash, a West Village moroccan couscous bar-eatery named after one of the kitchen utensils used in order to hand roll couscous. . Her way with ingredients has been lauded repeatedly by The New Yorker, The New York Times, and New York Magazine, among many others, and her way with people was noted by The New York Times’ critic Sam Sifton: “Admony…runs Balaboosta exactly as if she’d invited a room full of strangers for dinner, then told her family to be nice to them.” . Einat is married to Stefan Nafziger. Together they own and operate Balaboosta, Kish Kash, and Taïm. . They live in Brooklyn with their two young children, Liam and Mika. When Einat is not at the restaurant she can be found at home, cooking for the crowd of family and friends continually gathered around her
dining table. . 📸: Maya&Michelle creative

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Taim Falafel opened in the Village in 2005 and has since become a chain of four locations in the city that is now expanding out of state with the assistance of new management formerly from mexican fast-food chain Chipotle.

“We are extremely excited and ready for our new chapter in TAIM, working on our fifth location in NYC and a new one that is outside of NY. My husband Stéfan and our director of operations Bethany Strong are running the show like wizards.” Admony said.

Most recently, Chef Einat reopened Balaboosta, her take on modern Israeli cuisine. The new menu features all-time favorite dishes such as the cauliflower with lemon, currants, pine nuts, parsley and crushed Bamba (the famous Israeli peanut snack), and Fried Olives with labne cheese and harissa oil.

But new creations like the Short Rib Zabzi with hand-rolled couscous, herbs, and almonds, and a Red Snapper dish with pickled okra tempura and sour Fresno chili in chraime sauce.

And of course you can’t miss their scrumptious desserts of Malabi and Halva Creme Brulee.

It’s been well over a decade that Chef Einat has been a major part of introducing Israeli, Mediterranean and Middle-Eastern cuisine to New York. For many years now it’s been her dream to create a place that serves homemade, authentic couscous, and she made that dream come true in Kish-Kash, New York’s first ever couscous bar.

Named after the sieve traditionally used to make couscous, the casual dining eatery specializes in hand-rolled, hand-sieved Moroccan couscous and authentic North African Jewish cuisine. You’re invited to the dinner table to enjoy slow cooked dishes such as Mafrum, a Libyan dish of spiced ground meat in a tomato sauce, Chef Einat’s Tbecha B’salk, a short rib, Swiss chard and white bean stew, and there are chicken tagine, lamb, fish and vegetarian options to choose from as well.

Of the Balaboosta reopening process, Chef Einat said, “It’s been fun to explore fresh ideas too – riffing on homespun Israeli and Middle-Eastern classics while continuing to innovate and play with the ingredients, flavors, and techniques that make my beloved Israeli cuisine among the most exciting in the world. I can’t wait to introduce a few new, interesting and delicious dishes such as Lamb Neck with preserved lemon, dates and sun-choke and more.”

Chef Einat and partner (and husband) Stéfan Nafziger worked with designer Silvia Zofio of SZProjects to design the new Balaboosta in the space that was formerly Bar Bolonat.

“The interior design of the new Balaboosta location is bright, airy, and the Mediterranean feeling is evoked through the color scheme, banquette fabric pattern and Middle Eastern inspired glass pendants.” Zofio said. “The centerpiece of the room is a nostalgic black and white mural designed in a playful way with its narrow blue stripes being repeated as a pattern on the concrete floor.”

The new Balaboosta is definitely a cosy, hip and delicious option for those long and cold NYC nights. They are open for dinner form 5:30-10:30pm and will soon be open for brunch and lunch as well. And don’t worry, we got a personal promise from Chef Einat that she will be reintroducing the infamous Balaboosta shakshuka to the brunch menu.

Hummus Is the Peacemaker. Who Knew?

All cooks have their pet peeves. I have only one such gripe: bad hummus. Really, chefs, hummus is not hard to make. I don’t want it runny or flavorless or chunky or red or green or covered with goji berries. When it comes to hummus — please, for all that is holy and good in this world — if you have hummus on your menu, learn how to make it. 

I can’t begin to tell you how many times in the past few months in New York City, of all places, I’ve had bad hummus. Bad hummus is an affront to good hummus and to all that is good about Middle Eastern food. I even had bad hummus at an Israeli restaurant — a highly rated one. I’ve had bad hummus at a Turkish and Lebanese restaurant, and I’ve had bad hummus out of a container by a “good” Israeli brand (don’t call yourself Sabra). It’s almost insulting. And it doesn’t have to be this way. 

Like all simple food of the Mediterranean variety, hummus is greater than the sum of its parts, and its parts are few but flavorful; chickpeas, tahini, salt, lemon juice, garlic, a glug or two of olive oil to serve. Good — scratch that — great hummus is humble and unpretentious, but you must follow a few simple rules. After the chickpeas are cooked — and I’m not a bit opposed to canned chickpeas — you are about eight minutes away from fantastic hummus. 

I’ve often wondered why this superfood is so difficult for people to make well. After all, I’ve been to many parties where it was served, and I’m shocked by what people think hummus is. Hummus (pronounced who-moose not hum-us) is a very common food in the Middle East and all over the Levant. 

One can argue where hummus came from, but this is not something we argue about in Israel. Unsurprisingly, the oldest and most popular hummus places in Israel (such as Khalil in Ramle, Said and Issa in Acre, Lina in Jerusalem) are run by generations of Arab Israelis. In Israel, we smoke the peace pipe over hummus, and if you ask an Israeli where to find the best hummus, most will tell you it’s an Arab joint. 

In the early 2000s, hummus became all the rage in the United States, spreading its vegan appeal until it became a billion-dollar industry. It can be found in roughly 30 percent of all refrigerators around the country. Still, due to its highly perishable nature, hummus makers have to use preservatives to give their hummus a longer shelf life. They try to cover up those unnatural tastes with strongly flavored additives like jalapenos or red pepper, hot sauce or, in some cases, even chipotle, pesto or sun-dried tomato.

Don’t misunderstand, I don’t have anything against the flavored hummus industry. It’s just that I am convinced it is one of the reasons consumers’ palates in the U.S. don’t understand what, for lack of a better word, “real” hummus is supposed to taste like.

Israeli- and Arab-style hummus is an exercise in humble simplicity and balance. What differentiates great hummus from one that is not so great can be summarized as follows:

Texture — We want our hummus smooth and fluffy unless it’s “msabbaha” (which means swimming in), a version of deconstructed hummus where the chickpeas are left whole and cooked for 24 hours and served warm, swimming in a pool of the tahini they were cooked in.

“Rather than argue over the origins of hummus, Israelis prefer to argue over
who makes it best.”

Appearance — Hummus should be light in color and more toward the creamy, light off-white — not brown — unless it’s topped with ful (fava beans), or you’ve ordered a “meshulash” (a triple), which contains hummus topped with whole hummus and ful.

Tahini — In Israel, hummus is made with a lot of tahini, a paste made of ground sesame seeds (tahana is the Arabic word for “to grind”) and a good quality one, not over-roasted, bitter tahini.

Lemon juice — Fresh lemon juice is used in Israel – not the kind of juice that comes out of a plastic lemon-shaped container. 

Toppings — All hummus gets a handsome sheen of olive oil in Israel and sometimes whole beans, parsley or paprika, cumin or schug (spicy Yemenite chile sauce). It is not adulterated by guacamole or carrots or pine nuts. That said, many eat hummus with a hard-boiled egg on top.

Temperature — Good, fresh hummus in Israel is, by definition, warm. The best places in Israel make a huge batch in the morning and close when it runs out. In my café, I serve hummus cold because this is the way Americans have learned to eat hummus, but I advise customers to let it come to room temperature before they eat it.

Sides — In Israel we “wipe” hummus with fresh, chewy pita, of course, but that tends to get a bit heavy on the stomach. We also use white onions as little scoops to eat our hummus. Onion breath notwithstanding — the flavor combo is nothing short of miraculous.

In Israel, where hummus is eaten almost daily, there is no shortage of competition in the hummus arena, but rather than argue over the origins of hummus, Israelis prefer to argue over who makes it best. 

Here is my recipe and technique for making hummus at home, the recipe I use in the café or would whip up for company and gladly eat every day of the week if it wasn’t so darn caloric (25 calories per tablespoon without the accompanying pita!)


1 cup dried chickpeas (the smaller, the better; pea sized is best, and the
Bulgarian variety is excellent)
Or 3 28-ounce cans of chickpeas, drained
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 bay leaf
5 tablespoons lemon juice, freshly squeezed
4 large garlic cloves, unpeeled
4 tablespoons ice water
1 cup light-roast tahini (In the U.S.,
Soom is best)
1 1/4 teaspoons sea salt (or to taste)
1/4 cup ice cubes
8 tablespoons good quality olive oil (to serve)
Parsley, paprika or cumin, to serve (optional)

Soak chickpeas overnight in a large bowl covered in double their volume of cold water. The next day, drain the chickpeas in two changes of water place, and place in pot. Add bay leaf, baking soda and water to cover. Stir and remove any foam that rises and bring water to the boil.

If chickpeas are fresh, they may need to cook for approximately 30 minutes, if older, up to an hour. The chickpeas are cooked when you can press one between your fingers, and it breaks easily. If using canned chickpeas, wash and drain them but still boil them with a bay leaf and baking soda until they are soft. This will get rid of the “can” taste. Drain the chickpeas well and discard the bay leaf (there should be about 3 cups.)

In a food processor or Vitamix blender, process the lemon juice and unpeeled garlic cloves for 30 seconds. Let sit for 2 minutes and then strain out garlic, putting the garlic infused juice into the blender.

Add the still hot, well-drained chickpeas and process until smooth. Add a few tablespoons of cold water, tahini and salt, and process a few more minutes. Add the ice cubes and process until hummus is very light in color and perfectly smooth. Taste and adjust for salt or lemon or thin out with another tablespoon of cold water at a time until the consistency of a thick milkshake. This takes a full 5 minutes.

Serve warm, or room temperature on plates drizzled with olive oil and dusted with parsley and paprika or cumin.

Makes about 4 servings.  

Yamit Behar Wood, an Israeli-American food and travel writer, is the executive chef at the U.S. Embassy in Kampala, Uganda, and founder of the New York Kitchen Catering Co.

‘Lost Bread’ and Found Wanderers

Why are Israelis so happy? Why does the United Nation’s World Happiness Report consistently rank Israel above the United States and parts of Europe on the happiness scale? Despite wars, insecurity and economic hardship, Israel, it appears, seems to be a very good place to live. 

I got a little insight into “Israeli happiness” while eating the best French toast I’ve ever had, at Kirsh Bakery and Kitchen in New York City last week. 

Anat and Dan Kirsh took one look at each other 20 years ago in Tel Aviv, where they were employed at Café Basel, she as a waitress and he a bartender, and fell madly in love. They went on to discover that they had other things in common as well — a love of homemade-caliber food and customer service, the restaurant business and New York City. Both diehard Tel Avivites and graduates of virtually every food industry job — from dishwashing to general managers of high-end establishments from one end of Tel Aviv to the other — the pair plotted and planned and worked toward the goal of opening their own place. 

When a friend told them of a vacant carpentry shop in a historic building in Jerusalem, it was love at first site. There, in 2006, Zuni Café was born — a restaurant and 24/7 diner specializing in French and American comfort food, with a nod to Anat and Dan’s mutual obsession with New York and his mother’s European-style baking. Zuni was a huge overnight success, particularly with American ex-pats who stopped by to get a taste of home, but also with local Israelis who became obsessed with, of all things, the French toast. 

Dan took his childhood memories of his mother’s pain perdu — “lost bread” —  made with day-old bread battered and pan-fried in butter, and gave it an upgrade with mascarpone cream and mixed berries. It was an instant hit in the café.

All manner of French toast then made it onto the Zuni menu, including savory options such as lox and crème fraiche, and spinach and cheese topped with a sunnyside-up egg. Next thing you knew, Zuni became just as famous for its French toast as its brasserie-style comfort food and cocktails.

In 2012, with an experienced team in place at Zuni and two young children in tow, the pair decided to pursue their dreams in New York. At first, they considered launching a chain of kiosks specializing in French toast made with their signature milk bread and a variety of toppings, but bigger things were in store for them.  In 2016, they founded Kirsh Bakery & Kitchen, a full-service café and restaurant in the Upper West Side neighborhood they now call their New York home.

“Israel is home, and it always will be.” Anat told me, “but I live in two dimensions — here and Israel. Tel Aviv is my very favorite city in the entire world — the feeling of being home, of belonging. As much as I love New York, there is no place like Tel Aviv.”

The couple brought their two young children to New York to start their business, but they return to Tel Aviv at every opportunity, taking turns managing Zuni and Kirsh. While we talked about the distinctions between Tel Aviv and New York, and the differences and similarities between the palates of Israelis and Americans, Anat told me that her children were studying in Israel. She said her children feel comfortable in Israel and the U.S. because the family has solid friendships and communities in both countries. 

Although they plan to continue living in New York as their restaurant business grows, the Kirshes plan to continue maintaining a home in Israel. This struck me as the key to why Israel ranks so high on the happiness scale: Community — close family ties, the shared experiences of mandatory military service, and strong ties to a shared faith — tends to make the average Israeli feel a sense of belonging that leads to more satisfaction and perhaps a greater sense of security.

While Americans and Europeans often move away from family and the friends they grew up with, Israelis tend to keep in touch with them and live almost communally, where the support of loved ones is an integral part and focal point of their lives. 

At Kirsh Bakery& Kitchen, while I ate my upgraded “lost bread” and traded restaurant stories with Israelis — who, like me, have become ex-pats in another land to seek their fortune — I was filled with gratitude that we live in an age when air travel is affordable and we are able to touch base with our homeland and even straddle the two countries, something our parents weren’t able to do. It’s good to know we come from a land where happiness reigns despite obvious day-to-day struggles and worries. 

 J.R.R. Tolkien wrote a poem with the refrain “All that is gold does not glitter, all those who wander are not lost; The old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not reached by the frost.” 

I wholeheartedly agree. It won’t take but a bite of Kirsh’s French toast to convince you that those who wander are not all lost.

So, here is its recipe.

If you happen to be in New York City, pick up a loaf of its milk bread to make this. Otherwise, I’d recommend using day-old challah cut into 1 1/2-inch-thick slices. That’s what this Israeli is going to do when she gets back to her kitchen in Uganda, while missing both the U.S. and Israel.


For the mascarpone cream:
14 ounces heavy cream
1 tablespoon powdered sugar
6 extra-large egg yolks
1/2 cup granulated sugar
2 tablespoons Myers rum (optional)
16 ounces Italian mascarpone cheese

For the French toast:
6 ounces heavy cream
1 extra-large egg
1 tablespoon powdered sugar
8  1 1/2-inch-thick slices of one-day-old milk bread or challah
3 ounces butter, for frying
4 ounces mixed-berry confiture (or chocolate)

To make mascarpone cream, place heavy cream and powdered sugar in a mixing bowl and whip with an electric mixer until stiff peaks form. Set aside in the refrigerator. 

In a double-boiler, place egg yolks, granulated sugar and rum. Whisk for 5 minutes without stopping, or until you have a light-yellow, fluffy foam consistency. 

Take egg mixture off the heat and fold in half the mascarpone cheese. Once incorporated, gently fold in the other half without overmixing. Do the same with the whipped cream from the refrigerator, folding half the whipped cream into the cheese mixture and then gently folding in the other half until fully combined. Refrigerate until ready to use.

To prepare the batter for the toast, whisk together heavy cream, egg and sugar. Place the bread slices into the batter one at a time, soaking each slice for 3 minutes while turning over in the batter until bread is soaked through. Continue with remaining slices.

Melt butter on low flame and pan-fry slices for 6 to 8 minutes each, constantly turning from side to side until each is cooked through and golden brown. Place slices on paper to soak up excess fat before serving.

Serve sprinkled with powdered sugar, chilled mascarpone cream and berry confiture. Serves 4.

Yamit Behar Wood, an Israeli-American food and travel writer, is the executive chef at the U.S. Embassy in Kampala, Uganda, and founder of the New York Kitchen Catering Co.

The Eating of the Jews – A Poem for Rosh Hashanah by Rick Lupert

God Wrestler: a poem for every Torah Portion by Rick LupertLos Angeles poet Rick Lupert created the Poetry Super Highway (an online publication and resource for poets), and hosted the Cobalt Cafe weekly poetry reading for almost 21 years. He’s authored 22 collections of poetry, including “God Wrestler: A Poem for Every Torah Portion“, “I’m a Jew, Are You” (Jewish themed poems) and “Feeding Holy Cats” (Poetry written while a staff member on the first Birthright Israel trip), and most recently “Beautiful Mistakes” (Rothco Press, May 2018) and edited the anthologies “A Poet’s Siddur: Shabbat Evening“,  “Ekphrastia Gone Wild”, “A Poet’s Haggadah”, and “The Night Goes on All Night.” He writes the daily web comic “Cat and Banana” with fellow Los Angeles poet Brendan Constantine. He’s widely published and reads his poetry wherever they let him.

The Sweet Torture of Kitchen Life

I’ve just come home from work. I’m covered in burns and cuts to the point where the heat from my shower stung so much I had to turn off the hot water halfway through. I have so many scars on my hands, so many broken nails, that my manicurist regularly scolds me. I’m fueled by espresso and adrenaline and haven’t eaten anything since yesterday. Did I even eat dinner last night? Despite some shockingly expensive insoles, my legs ache so much I could ice myself until tomorrow and do yoga religiously, but nothing can undo the damage of 14 straight hours on my feet. I think for most people, this might sound torturous, but for a chef, it’s just a typical day.

You may wonder why anyone would do it. What would possess a sane person to get up at 5 a.m. to pick herbs in the dark and risk a snake bite (yes, that happened), drive to work in the rain on bumpy and dangerous roads and then spend the day brutalizing her body? The best way I can describe it is as an addiction like running or smoking.

But it also seems like a requirement; like breathing and sleeping, the action of a hot kitchen with its pleasurable intensity, its flames and sparks, its relentless physical push and pull is intoxicating. When you are 20 orders deep, headphones on, smoking oil and woks in the air, backed up against continuous deadlines that come within seconds of one another, you find a place deep inside of you, a sweet torture that creates a temporary vacuum in the air and electrifies it.

Like a fly, you circle the web of your nemesis. You try to come as close as you can by stepping around an edge without falling in because the memory of the last time you got eaten alive still stings. Unfortunately, the only way around your predicament is preparation so exhaustive and precise that running a marathon seems like a walk on the beach. Add to that the fact that your fate depends on the consciousness and the physical and mental acuity of others. You can be on track with your orders, but if your co-chefs are not on their game, you will go down in flames alongside them, inevitably and cataclysmically like a Sunfish sailboat in a perfect storm.

Like your favorite lover, chefs will decant a seduction onto your plate and the better we get to know you, we will chase what you like until you catch on that you’re ours.

Then there are the sounds and smells of a professional kitchen, as musical in and of themselves as a favorite song on a repeat. “Order in!” shouts an expeditor and, like a starter’s pistol at the beginning of a race, the body reacts viscerally. You know you’re on, and for another hour or two, you will become so enmeshed, so deep in the weeds, so deliciously absorbed, you will barely feel it when you pull focaccia out of a 600-degree oven with your bare hands. When your mezzaluna falls apart, its handle still slick from olive oil, because you have so forcefully pushed it into the rosemary and garlic-scented crust, unless the sight of blood gushing forth from your hand stops you, it will barely register.

And then there are your customers. The way they look at you when you’ve remembered — without being reminded — that they hate cilantro. Or the way a child will run up to hug you with stars in their eyes because they still remember that time you presented them with a sprinkle-laden Mickey Mouse-shaped pancake. The flash of adoration you see when you watch someone take a bite of warm challah that you’ve braided and adorned with your prayers. The look that says you’ve stirred a memory — of a grandmother or a wife or an aunt far away — its innocence so pure it makes you buzz as though you’ve drunk a glass of champagne too quickly.

Absorbed in the act of icing a cake, I often look up to find my customers silently watching me, completely engrossed in my task and with looks of appreciation so intense that sometimes it makes me blush. My greatest pleasure is making customers one-bite spoon treats when I am finishing off a dessert and have leftover bits. Some cake crumbs, a swath of cream and a drizzle of dulce de leche piled onto a spoon and handed to someone having a tough day may as well be a life preserver thrown out to the drowning — so simple, yet so powerful.

In my mind there is a Rolodex: Michelle hates sweet potatoes; extra onions for Carmelita; Jenny likes her eggs soft; JoJo doesn’t want oil in her salad dressing. My only talent — that of remembering people’s likes and dislikes when it comes to food — has paid off in my kitchen life. Like typing — a skill that seemed so pointless once — has become one of my greatest advantages. Seemingly insignificant details about hundreds of people’s preferences flash through my mind all day, and along with those details, a connection to that person that remains long after they have gone. Not adding chile to Meghan’s food but making Kevin’s food extra spicy may not seem like a very big deal in the scheme of life but it’s the very essence and language of a kitchen.

Somehow, all the bruises and failures of kitchen life evaporate when I present someone with a cake, buttercream flowers strewn about in shades of their favorite color, and they burst into tears of joy. People know when you are giving them a piece of yourself and when your heart is in the game. But unlike a revealing “tell” in a game of poker, in the kitchen, when you have shown your hand, you are left without the option to fold. Chefs will go all in every single time. Like your favorite lover, we will decant a seduction onto your plate and the better we get to know you, we will chase what you like until you catch on that you’re ours.

The seemingly relentless disappointments that go hand in hand with the pursuit of anything this demanding is not for the easily discouraged. Since life naturally ebbs and flows in swirls of sorrow, delight and impermanence, one solution to disheartenment is to try to catch a wave of joy and ride it as far as you can.

Like the fly, it’s instinctual for us to try to avoid the web. But in the kitchen, as in life, perhaps the only thing that may keep us from the silky clutches of the spider is a fierce trajectory toward our passion.

Yamit Behar Wood, an Israeli-American food and travel writer, is the executive chef at the U.S. Embassy in Kampala, Uganda, and founder of the New York Kitchen Catering Co.

Weekend of Faith

This weekend marks an important time for people of many faiths.  It is Passover and also Good Friday and Easter Sunday.  I am someone whose life is made easier with faith. I’m also one that does not judge people based on faith. The way I see it, faith allows us to lean on something bigger than ourselves, and if it gives us peace, then how we view the higher power doesn’t matter. Faith is a beautiful and powerful thing. It does not need to always be about religion.

I hope those who celebrate the holidays of this weekend will find peace within their faith.  For me, the weekend is about prayer.  Prayers of thanks for my Jewish life, prayers of thanks for my blessed life, and prayers of thanks for the health and happiness of my family and friends. I’m counting my blessings, embracing the history of my people, and taking comfort in the power of so many human beings on the planet praying at the exact same time. It is quite beautiful.

Take time this weekend to be kind to a stranger. Share blessings with people in need and let your faith inspire you to bring light to someone in the dark. Listen to a child laugh, reach out to someone you miss, ease someone’s sorrow, know struggles will pass, make a new plan, love someone, be aware, be happy, be brave, cry tears of joy, hug like you mean it, and enjoy the delicious holiday food. Enjoy the weekend. Celebrate, reflect, and keep the faith.


Are you looking for the Best Meals in Park City, Utah?

Are you looking for the Best Meals in Park City, Utah?Tupelo

Carl, Heather and I agree with Emily Summers from Deer Valley Resort and highly recommend the hot Buttermilk biscuits with honey butter at Tupelo! We cannot wait to eat them and everything else again!

Carl and Heather raved about the Beef with Barley made with Nirman Ranch Sirloin which they both said was nearly like risotto! They loved it. I had the tasty Mary’s Airline Chicken which had great spices and was so juicy. This chicken is cooked by Sous-vide which uses hot water immersion to cook food slowly over a long period and then you have succulent and tender meat.

Next time we are eating the tempting desserts FIRST!

Thank you to Chef Matthew Harris, the entire team and especially our server, Sean O.

Are you looking for the Best Meals in Park City, Utah?Waldorf Astoria Park City

After skiing all day, are you wondering where to dine?

Heather, Carl and I loved POWDER at the Waldorf Astoria Park CityThe Red bicycle wheat and beer batter bread with black Hawaiian sea salt and Wisconsin butter was a delicious beginning. I loved the carrot ginger citrus bisque!

We shared the simple artisan greens and the wood grilled cauliflower. It was hard for me to share a taste of my buttermilk fried organic chicken, because it is so outrageously good! Heather loved the guajilli rubbed buffalo tenderloin and Carl highly recommended his unique Ora king salmon from Tasman, New Zealand. See more photos on Facebook.

Thank you to Chef Michael Zachman, Nick, Ryan and of course, Danielle!

“Powder is the ideal location to gather for breakfast, lunch, après, dinner and drinks with unique fresh and flavorful menu offerings for the entire family. We offer indoor private dining and additional outdoor season seating with views of the pool and scenic outdoor courtyard.”

Congrats Waldorf Astoria Park City

They have been voted the United States’ Best Ski Hotel and Top Three World’s Best Ski Hotel 2017 at the World Ski Awards™ ceremony in Kitzbühel, Austria. The World Ski Awards™ is the only global initiative to recognize, reward and celebrate excellence in ski tourism. This year, a record number of votes were cast by ski consumers from across the globe – over 1.5 million!

Are you looking for the Best Meals in Park City, Utah?HIGH WEST DISTILLERY 

People often ask me, “Can you drink in Utah?” YES YOU CAN!

At High West, you can have Whiskey that is distilled in Utah and was named Whiskey Distiller of the Year in 2016! They make craft spirits which you can find in 49 states and internationally but it might be best if you come in and taste them yourself with some fantastic food. I love that for Pioneer Day they make the historic Mormon whiskey recipe! YES! Mormons used to drink and have their own whiskey recipe.

Carl and Heather loved the smoked cheddar, bacon and jalapeno mac but my favorite was the warm corn and pepper salad.  What else to eat? The Bison Burger with caramelized onions and the chicken schnitzel. YUM! Oh and try the pretzels too!

HighWest FACTS:

2006 High West Becomes Utah’s First Legal Distillery since 1870. Yippee Ki-Yay!

2009 High West Saloon in Park City opens

2015 High West Distillery on Blue Sky opens - Marks the beginning of a new High West era.

2016 High West is Named Distiller of the Year by Whisky Advocate

Are you looking for the Best Meals in Park City, Utah?


 Whether you live near Main Street, Park City, Utah or you are in town to ski and celebrate, I can promise the food, service and company will be fantastic at Firewood Park City. We chose to go there to celebrate my very first art sale at Artworks Park City. Carl, Heather and I were ready to enjoy our evening but were unprepared for the great lengths the team would go to accomodate us. I have several food challenges which were no problem at Firewood. We dined on incredible food and even tasted new things that quickly became favorites.


Wondering about some of my other favorites? Read my article about Amazing Meals, my story in Trivago and watch my Park City videos.

More about my skiing adventures with National Ability Center in

Ski Utah

Sierra Magazine

USA Today 10 best

Deer Valley

We loved skiing at DEER VALLEY RESORT!

First published on We Said Go Travel 

Passover: Liberating God’s Food

Jewish rituals are very much about what we can’t do. We can’t eat on Yom Kippur, we can’t work on Shabbat, we can’t eat bread during Passover, and so on.

The prohibitions on Passover are especially detailed. Every year, rabbinic authorities and food companies spend an enormous amount of energy determining how to make thousands of supermarket items “kosher for Passover.” I’ve seen very observant Jews go nuts on this holiday. Some are careful not to put water on their matzot because any moisture might “leaven” the matzah.

But here’s the really crazy part — the holiest and most spectacular food items in the world require no rabbinic supervision whatsoever and are “kosher for Passover” all year long.

These are the foods that come straight from God and straight from the earth, foods like beets, bananas, Swiss chard, carrots, tomatoes, cucumbers, watermelon, apples, persimmons, tangerines, spinach, red peppers, kiwi, strawberries, asparagus, Brussels sprouts, zucchini, celery, endive and mangoes.

Ask Picasso to design 20 fruit and vegetables and I’m not sure he can do better than what’s on that list. Ask any nutrition expert and they’ll tell you that fresh and natural produce are the best way to nourish your body. Ask any great chef and they’ll tell you that fruit and vegetables offer the most imaginative possibilities for great recipes.

At our seder tables this year, we can turn God’s earthy foods into the main dish. We can liberate ourselves from
overly processed foods, from too much meat, too much sugar, too much of everything.

And yet, we still have a tendency to treat vegetables as merely the “side dish” to the main meat dish. The age-old tradition, for those who are not vegan or vegetarian, is that meat is the hero and everything else is the supporting cast.

Passover offers us a unique opportunity to turn the tables.

At our seder tables this year, we can turn God’s earthy foods into the main dish. We can liberate ourselves from overly processed foods, from too much meat, too much sugar, too much of everything. Even for carnivores, we can use this season to celebrate the best, holiest foods on earth.

Are you up for it? I hope so, because this special Passover Food issue is loaded with amazing non-dairy vegetarian recipes such as Herb-Stuffed Mushrooms With Arugula, Bulgarian-Style Ratatouille, Eggplant Chopped “Liver,” Raw Zucchini Roll-ups With Smoky Eggplant and Gold Beets and Nectarines With Hazelnuts and Oregano.

Our Food editor, Yamit Behar Wood, who has shared plenty of great meat recipes in the past, has gotten into the real- food Passover spirit with a story titled, “Can Passover Food Liberate Us? Vegetable Dishes That Steal the Seder.”

She writes: “The seder is a perfect time to re-evaluate priorities and to detoxify our environment in the hopes of gaining a better way forward in all aspects of our lives. And what better way to start anew spiritually than to begin to rethink not only what comes in and out of our lives but what physically goes into our bodies?”

You’ll find four pages in this week’s issue of Wood’s celebration of some of her favorite vegetable dishes.

In “An Eight-Day Love Affair With Vegetables,” Wendy Paris writes:

“This spring-cleaning holiday, this festival of liberation is the perfect time to free ourselves from what can be mindless, unhealthy eating habits — the chewy granola bars in the car, the Cinnabon at the airport. Eating more vegetables is a way to care for our bodies, a mitzvah itself. Cramming ourselves with chocolate-covered potato chips and processed products with names like “Smokey Flavor Xtra Long Snack” is not a mitzvah, even when they’re kosher for Passover.”

The holiest and most spectacular food items in the world require no rabbinic supervision and are “kosher for Passover” all year long.

For her story, Paris interviewed local chef Jeremy Fox, who is a master of farmers market cooking and the author of the recently released ode to things that grow, “On Vegetables: Modern Recipes for the Home Kitchen.”

Paris writes: “For your own vegetable-based Passover dinner, Fox advises thinking in terms of a mezze-style meal of many small plates. … Include a variety of textures, and consider the flow of flavors across the whole evening.”

One of the things I love about the Jewish tradition is that we can inject our own personal meaning into the Jewish holidays. If Passover is about not eating leavened products, why can’t it also be about eating real foods?

So feel free to get into the spirit. Although we do have some terrific recipes in this issue, you can create your own. The point is to use this time of year to free ourselves from the things that harm us and embrace the things that nourish us, spiritually as well as physically.

It’s amazing to think that we can come out of this year’s Passover holiday with a renewed appreciation for the foods that best nourish and sustain our bodies. Talk about liberation.

See you all at the farmers market.

Passover Meal Prep: Leek and Beef Patties

I certainly won the Parent lottery, and I don’t think it’s an accident that I was given the ones I got. I also was exceptionally fortunate that part of my winnings came with a few stand-in mothers in the form of aunts. Although I feel the heavens showed terrible judgment when they decided not to make me a mom, I was able to channel the nurturing aspect of my personality into professional cooking. I often think that most chefs are parents in sheep’s clothing because most of us simply want to make our customers happy by feeding them well.

This year, I missed my annual early morning birthday phone call from my Aunt Dora, who died six months ago. I found myself waiting to hear her voice all day, my heart sinking a bit every hour that passed without her good wishes and blessings.

Dora’s birthday falls this week, marking the time of year that, in the past, she would have started to prepare and freeze her most iconic dish for Passover. I can’t think of a better way to honor her memory than to pass along her recipe for the most emblematic of all my childhood foods: ktzitzot prasa. Meat and leek patties are a typical food of Rosh Hashanah and Passover throughout the Jewish Sephardic world, particularly in the Balkans. Omit the meat for a vegetarian version but double the amount of potato so they hold together better.

The Bulgarian Jews, from which my father’s side of the family hails, have a vibrant tradition of foods deriving from their Spanish roots. All of my aunts prepare this dish  because it’s a must on our table for Passover. Dora taught my mother to make these and by extension taught me. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say it’s the favorite dish across all generations of our family.
These leek and beef patties aren’t difficult to make, but if each ingredient isn’t handled correctly, the whole dish will be inedible. Leeks tend to hold a lot of sand, so clean them thoroughly by slicing them lengthwise, then wash them in many changes of water. You don’t want gritty patties. Been there, done that.

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say it’s the favorite dish across all generations of our family.

You also must cook the leeks so that they are soft and don’t result in a patty that is fibrous, but not so soft that they are mushy. Done that, too. Next, grind the cooked leeks and squeeze as much water out of them as possible, so they will hold together when fried. Also, season them well. Otherwise, they’ll be bland. Dora taught me to do a test patty and adjust seasonings before cooking the rest of the batch. Then, if you’ve done all of that right, the patties must be fried in oil that is just hot enough, so they brown and don’t come out oily, but not so hot that their outsides burn before their insides cook.

Fortunately, Dora taught us all how to break up these steps so that these patties wouldn’t be too time-consuming for holidays when there were sometimes 30 or more people around her Passover table.

She would chop, clean and grind the leeks weeks in advance, straining them in the refrigerator overnight with a heavy plate on them to squeeze out liquid. The next day, she would mix them with the meat and seasonings and fry them, storing them in containers ready for the freezer.  The night before the holiday, she would transfer them to the fridge to thaw.

This Passover is the first in most of our lives without Dora, and it will be a difficult one for her family. Although I won’t be with my cousins in Israel, my parents and I will hold her in our thoughts as surely as we will squeeze lemon wedges on the
ktzitzot prasa before our first bite.

I still have some burning questions I would have liked to ask her about our culinary traditions, but it’s comforting to think that her great-grandchildren will be able to capture her essence through the soul food she so lovingly passed along.

3 1/2 pounds leeks, only white and light- green parts, cut into 1-inch segments
1 medium-size potato, boiled and mashed
1/2 pound ground beef
2 eggs
2 tablespoons matzo meal (optional; if you are gluten-free, add more potato)
2 teaspoons salt or to taste
3/4 teaspoon black pepper or to taste
Vegetable oil for shallow frying (don’t use extra-virgin olive oil)
1 cup chicken stock for reheating
Lemon wedges for serving

Place clean, cut leeks in a large pot and cover with cold water, bringing to a boil over high heat. Reduce heat to simmer, cover pot and cook until leeks are soft, about 15 minutes.

Put the leeks in a strainer and press with your hands until they are dry as possible.

Transfer the leeks to a food processor and gently pulse to grind, taking care to not over grind. Combine the leeks, mashed potato, ground beef, eggs, matzo meal, salt and pepper in a bowl and mix thoroughly. Let the mixture rest, covered in the refrigerator for 30 minutes.

When ready to cook, heat 1/8 inch of neutral-tasting vegetable oil in a shallow frying pan on medium heat.  Take a golf ball-size scoop of mixture in damp hands, flattening it gently into a patty, about 3 inches in diameter. Fill the
entire pan with patties but leave space between them.

Fry until cooked through and brown on both sides. Transfer to a paper towel-lined plate. Serve immediately, refrigerate or freeze for future use.

To reheat, we use a method called “papiado” in Ladino, the Judeo-Spanish version of Yiddish. Papiado-style cooking calls for evaporating excess liquid in food in an uncovered dish in the oven. Modeling on this method, we place the patties in one layer in the pan on a burner and then pour over them a small amount of chicken stock, no more than a 1/2 cup. The patties are then cooked on medium-low heat until the liquid is absorbed, and they are a bit puffy and warmed through.

Serve hot or at room temperature with lemon wedges.

Makes about 40 small ktzitzot.

Yamit Behar Wood, an Israeli-American food and travel writer, is the executive
chef at the U.S. Embassy in Kampala, Uganda, and founder of the New York Kitchen Catering Co.

Behind the Scenes at “Semi[te] Sweet: On Jews and Chocolate – The Exhibition”

Jewish refugee and immigrant stories highlight chocolate as a migrant food in “Semi[te] Sweet: On Jews and Chocolate” currently on display at Temple Emanu-El’s Herbert and Eileen Bernard Museum of Judaica in New York City. Now in its 20th year, the mission of the Bernard Museum is to examine and engage with the intersections of Jewish history, culture, and identity.

The exhibit invites visitors to partake in this first-ever visual journey into the mysteries, opportunities, and resilience of the Jewish chocolate story. It focuses on the surprising chocolate businesses and skills of Jews that cross cultures, countries, and continents. Jews jumped onto the chocolate trail in the early phases of European interaction with the New World drink. Later, 20th-century Jewish emigrants transferred their businesses of eating chocolate to new locations.

Some books are optioned into films. My book, On the Chocolate Trail, developed into this museum exhibit. Truthfully, creating this exhibit was the fulfillment of a dream. As I had researched chocolate and religions for On the Chocolate Trail, I had come across many charming artifacts, unusual pieces of decorative arts, and elegant archival documents. Understandably, only a handful could be included in the publication. All the while, I mused about the many items that amplify the narratives and potentially could comprise a delightful display about the little- known history of Jews and chocolate.

“Semi[te] Sweet” started with a serendipitous encounter in 2016 when I randomly sat next to an Israeli colleague at a Women’s Rabbinic Network dinner in Jerusalem. She happened to work at Museum of the Jewish People or Beit Hatefuzot. The rabbi took a copy of On the Chocolate Trail at the end of the evening. Almost a year later, when Gady Levy, the director of Temple Emanu-El’s Streicker Center in New York, NY, met with her in Jerusalem, she handed him On the Chocolate Trail. Within weeks, Levy and I met with Warren Klein, the Bernard’s curator, in New York, and a year later we mounted the show.

Of course, I had no idea about the complexities of such an enterprise: locating and borrowing the articles, designing the space, coordinating the labels. The expertise, professionalism, and creativity of Klein, who has been the museum’s curator since 2013, and his team were essential. We often juggled wishes with availability, vision with budget, aesthetics with content. Some manuscripts could only be provided in facsimile since the originals were deemed too fragile to travel.

Using On the Chocolate Trail as a foundation, we sought relevant objects. We reached out to institutions that had supported my research such as The Jacob Rader Marcus Center of the American Jewish Archives, the American Jewish Historical Society, the Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion Klau Library, and the Newport Historical Society.

When we decided to portray early chocolate usage, I turned to social media to locate pieces. As a result, eclectic loans included a family chocolate cup from Mexico lent by Reverend Susan Sica, whom I had met on an interfaith clergy trip to Israel. Michael Laiskonis, a chocolate expert at the Chocolate Lab at Institute of Culinary Education provided his metate stone for the grinding of chocolate by hand. A rabbinic colleague’s wife furnished a silver chocolate pot that had been in her family for three generations. The Leo Baeck Institute in New York City worked closely with Klein to bring Albert Einstein’s childhood chocolate cup back from loan in Germany. The Barton’s Bonbonniere founder’s son generously lent company memorabilia as did a member of the Barricini Family.

Although I could not imagine how it would all come together, Klein coordinated with a designer, a graphic artist, a painter, and an installer to be sure everything fit in a balanced confection of an installation. Its elegant and smart look entranced 800 attendees at the chocolate suffused opening and many more since. The evening happily coincided with the publication of the second edition of the book. On the Chocolate Trail then served as the catalog for the exhibit.

Guests from around the world – Argentina, Australia, Canada China, England, Israel, and Poland – have written sweet comments in the guest book. Tour groups have enjoyed specially themed Elite milk chocolate bars. Florence Fabricant in the New York Times noted that the exhibit demonstrates that “The connection between Jews and chocolate goes beyond Hanukkah ​gelt.” In response to inquiries from across the country, “Semi[te] Sweet” will be available to travel to museums and galleries beginning in April. After all, from generation to generation, l’dor vador, the Jewish love of chocolate should be shared.

“Semi[te] Sweet: On Jews and Chocolate” will be traveling around the country beginning in April, 2018. For further information, please contact me.

Cross posted from

Rabbi Deborah R. Prinz speaks about chocolate and Jews around the world. The newly released second edition of her book, On the Chocolate Trail: A Delicious Adventure Connecting Jews, Religions, History, Travel, Rituals and Recipes to the Magic of Cacao, (Jewish Lights) contains 25 historical and contemporary recipes. She is co-curator of the exhibit, “Semi[te] Sweet: On Jews and Chocolate” at Temple Emanu-El’s Herbert and Eileen Bernard Museum of Judaica, NYC, on display through February 25, 2018. She blogs at the Forward,, and elsewhere. The book is used in adult study, classroom settings, book clubs and chocolate tastings.

Thanksgiving With More Joy and Less Oy

Photo by Lynn Pelkey

I have an important message about the Thanksgiving meal for all you moms, dads, bubbes and holiday feast-makers out there: It’s not about the food.

There, I said it.

The truth is, holiday meals are never about the food. They are about family traditions, friends who are family, lively discussions, screaming kids and ranting in-laws. They are about making memories and laughter and having enough leftover turkey to make sandwiches the next day.

No matter how creamy your mashed potatoes are or how many Michelin stars your meal might earn, the fact is, no one is going to remember the food. What they will remember is your radiance, your happiness, your warmth and maybe even your dance moves.

So please, if you are preparing for the upcoming Thanksgiving meal, give yourself permission to take some shortcuts. If your meal is five-star but your face says “I just want to crawl back into bed,” you have lost. This year, commit to not being that frazzled person who is too stressed to be grateful on the official day of gratitude.

This year, commit to not being that frazzled person who is too stressed to be grateful on the official day of gratitude.

I speak from experience. For many years, I’ve prepared the Thanksgiving meal for almost 200 Foreign Service Officers at the U.S. Embassy in Uganda. Not only do I have the added pressure of cooking for people who would rather be home for the holiday, but I have to start well before Thanksgiving arrives — after all, I’d end up in a straitjacket if I woke up Wednesday morning still needing to make hundreds of pies and peel 200 pounds of potatoes.

Yet, many home cooks do just that sort of thing before big meals. This Thanksgiving, take it from a person who cooks for a living: Follow this schedule I’ve put together to take some anxiety out of the holiday.

Monday, Nov. 20: Do your shopping
Nothing spells heartbreak faster than running to 20 stores on Thanksgiving morning in search of croutons — or cranberry sauce or pumpkin pie filling. Don’t forget extra herbs and seasonings, salt, butter (or schmaltz or oil), flour, cream, milk, coffee, tea, sugar and large, disposable foil containers. Also, buy a meat thermometer with a pop-up timer. They cost next to nothing, and you will need to know when your turkey is cooked.

Tuesday, Nov. 21: Start preparing
Today is the day to make dough and desserts, and to prep the veggies, the frozen turkey and the fridge.

Apple pies can be made in advance and frozen unbaked. Pumpkin and pecan pies can be made today, and they will sit happily in your fridge until Thursday.

Figure out the challah/roll/biscuit situation and deal with that. You can make the dough and shape it in advance, then put it in the freezer to pop into the oven on Thursday.

This is also the day to peel regular and sweet potatoes and cover them with cold water. Trim the ends off string beans, blanch them in salted water and freeze in bags.

For the stuffing, prepare croutons, celery, onions and garlic before storing them in the fridge in Ziploc bags.

Clear out your fridge to make as much room as you can. Be brutal: Throw away those jars of condiments you’ve had in there since 1986. Then — and this is critical — if your turkey is frozen, put it in the fridge to thaw. Many Turkey Days have been ruined by underestimating how long it takes to thaw a big bird.

Wednesday, Nov. 22: Side dish day
Make the stuffing, the mashed and sweet potatoes, the green bean casserole, rice, couscous or whatever dishes your traditions dictate. Grease those disposable foil containers, put side dishes in them, cover them with foil and throw them in the fridge, ready to go into the oven the next day.

And if you bought a kosher turkey, you have even more to be grateful for. You can skip all that messy brining because kosher turkeys have already been brined.

Thursday, Nov. 23: Thanksgiving
While everyone else is trudging to the store looking for cranberries, here’s all that’s left for you to do this morning:

Preheat your oven and remove the side dishes and turkey from the fridge, so they come to room temperature. Rinse your turkey well with plenty of cool water, dry it with paper towels and let it sit on the counter for about an hour.

If you need to bake a pie or rolls/challah/biscuits, now is the time. While those are baking, set the table. Go all out. This is the most fun part of entertaining, and if you have mismatched plates and platters, all the better. If you’re like me and almost each one of your serving dishes tells a story, recalls a place you’ve been or reminds you of a relative you miss, this is a great chance to remember.

When the bread and pies are out of the oven, turn up the temperature to 500 F. Put your meat thermometer in the deepest part of the turkey’s thigh — where it meets the breast — and rub oil all over the bird. Season the inside and outside with your choice of herbs and spices. In the roasting pan, pour a few cups of wine or water and add the giblets and neck you reserved.

Pop the turkey into the oven for 30 minutes to brown all over. Then remove the turkey from the oven and lower the temperature to 350 F. Cover the breast meat with a small piece of foil and put the turkey back in the oven until your timer goes off or your thermometer reads 165 F.  An unstuffed turkey will take about 9 minutes per pound.

Basting is unnecessary, and opening the oven door will just increase the cooking time. Let your cooked bird rest for at least 30 minutes or longer. This allows the juices to redistribute and make the meat moist and flavorful. Avoid covering the turkey during the resting period to prevent rubbery skin.

While the turkey is resting, put the foil-covered side dishes in the oven to warm.

Before getting showered and dressed, take a few minutes to remove the pan drippings from your resting-turkey pan, discard the giblets and neck, and prepare the gravy. If you want to be a super chef, pour the gravy into microwave-safe gravy boats to be warmed for 2 minutes before serving.

At this point, you’ll probably be remembering frantic meals of holidays past and wondering why you’re done already — without even breaking a sweat. Keep the good times rolling: Talk someone else into carving the turkey and browning the tops of the side dishes before transferring them to serving platters. Then kick back and enjoy a pre-dinner Thanksgiving l’chaim!

Yamit Behar Wood, an Israeli-American food and travel writer, is the executive chef at the U.S. Embassy in Kampala, Uganda, and founder of the New York Kitchen Catering Co.

Channeling Safta — Schmaltz and All

Israeli Ktzitzot

I’ve always been fascinated by the nature-versus-nurture debate. How many of our personality traits are we born with and how many are learned?

When it comes to cooking, my family tells me that I am the clone of my paternal grandmother, Safta Ernestina. Although I loved her and well remember her legendary warmth, I was quite young when my parents immigrated to America, and I never had the opportunity to spend time with her in the kitchen.

Yet, on a recent trip home to Israel for my aunt’s funeral, I found a photograph of my grandmother that made a strong case for the nature side of the debate. There she was, behind the counter of a café, wearing an apron.  Although we didn’t have much of a physical resemblance, I recognized myself immediately in her eyes and in her informal chef’s attire. Like her, I have always shunned the chef’s white coat, opting instead for a short-sleeved shirt and white apron.

Since I run an American embassy cafeteria, imagine my surprise at finding out that my safta ran a cafeteria on the first floor of an office building on Pinsker and Allenby streets in Tel Aviv.

After grilling my family about the photo, I found out that, after my grandparents left Bulgaria for Israel shortly after the end of World War II, they opened a business selling soups, sandwiches and coffee. When my grandfather died a few years later, my grandmother continued to run the small cafeteria to support my father, who was then a young high school student.  She had an incredibly close relationship with her sister —  Tante Becca, as she’s known in our family — who lived in the adjoining flat. My father describes coming home from school while his mother was at work, cleaning up and doing his homework. When he got hungry, he would call out and Tante Becca would reach down from the window above and hand him a plate of food.

Life was tough in Israel in those days, and my grandmother didn’t have it easy, but she was fun-loving all the same. She loved to cook and entertain, even though her little apartment had a tiny kitchen. Rumor had it that even if the pantry at her house looked bare as could be, she could whip out a feast in no time.

On the other hand, my maternal grandmother, Safta Jana, was the butt of many of my father’s jokes over the years. According to him, since he came from a family full of great cooks, it was agony to eat in a house where you couldn’t tell the difference between the mashed potatoes and the rice.

Much like Safta Ernestina, I work hard for a living. Working in a professional kitchen every day is a thrill, but the stress can be crippling. That’s why you may think I’m crazy for cooking on my days off when it seems that I should want to put my feet up and relax.  But chefs and their families have to eat, too, and while it’s a privilege to cook and nourish others for a living, we are regularly advised to put on our own oxygen masks first.

On Sundays, when I’m not working, I tend to raid the freezer for little packages of things I’ve stashed away at some time when I was coherent enough to think ahead.  This food needs to be fast, and it needs to be comforting.

Inevitably, this is when I make ktzitzot, an Israeli Sephardic meat patty made with or without vegetables. They are great eaten hot or cold with ketchup in a sandwich — hey, I’m an American, too — or with some tahini and a fresh green salad or cut-up vegetables. It’s the Jewish version of meatballs, but unlike the Italian version, ktzitzot usually are flat instead of round. This is straightforward family cooking, the kind that is restful and easy and produces great leftovers for future meals.

Usually, I have a bit of ground beef in the fridge and some lonely and sad looking leftover vegetables in the rotter, I mean, crisper.  Rather than using bread, I’ve found that a carrot, zucchini and onion grated on a cheese grater makes a perfect substitute and makes ktzitzot soft and fluffy.  Make note, gluten-free folks.

I then take a page out of my family ktzitza playbook and throw the meat, seasoning and vegetables into a Ziploc bag, remove air from the bag (trust me), and then throw it onto my kitchen counter about 10 times.  This incredible trick magically mixes all your ingredients evenly, as well as tenderizes the meat.  I then let the bag sit in the fridge for a bit to marry the flavors.

When I’m ready to fry the meat patties, I let the bag sit on the counter for an hour or so to take the chill off. I like to fry my ktzitzot in chicken fat that I keep in the fridge in a jar.  Chicken fat (or schmaltz, as it’s called in Yiddish) is one of the culinary wonders of the world. It has a high smoke point, a savory flavor, and anything you fry in it automatically becomes more delicious. I don’t use much, only a tablespoon or two, but that’s usually enough to fry up about 20 small ktzitzot.

If you don’t feel good about frying in chicken fat, use some avocado oil, refined coconut oil, or any other oil with a high smoke point.

What’s best is that, right now, on top of my stove, is a loosely covered bowl of leftover ktzitzot waiting for someone to walk by, grab one, and eat it standing up over the sink like my father probably used to do at my safta’s house.

1/2 large carrot
1 medium-size zucchini
1 medium-size yellow onion
1 pound ground beef (or whatever
meat you like)
1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped
1/8 cup olive oil (more if your meat is lean)
2 eggs
2 cloves garlic, crushed
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1 teaspoon paprika
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 teaspoon stock powder or 1 stock cube
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1 pinch sugar
Oil or schmaltz for frying

Grate carrot, zucchini and onion on a cheese grater and place pulp in a colander with a few pinches of salt to remove the water. After 15 minutes, put vegetables in a clean tea towel and squeeze out all the excess water. Add to a Ziploc bag with remaining ingredients and remove air before sealing bag. Throw bag on the counter about 10 times to mix ingredients and put in the fridge to marry flavors for at least an hour or overnight.

When you are ready to fry your ktzitzot, heat a tablespoon of oil or schmaltz in a large pan and make one tiny meat patty so you can taste it. Cook until dark brown on both sides and taste. Adjust your seasonings to your liking by adding salt or pepper to the mix. When your patties taste good to you, fry them up in batches — about 3 inches in diameter each — turning them over until they are evenly browned on both sides, about 5 minutes on each side. They will puff up a little from the eggs and baking soda. Don’t overcrowd the pan so that they can brown without sweating. Eat hot, warm or cold.

Makes about 20 patties.

Moroccan-inspired tzimmes with saffron, white wine and chicken

Moroccan-inspired tzimmes with saffron, white wine and chicken. Photos by Chaya Rappoport

I didn’t grow up with tzimmes, so the idea of stewed, mushy vegetables with dried fruit has never much appealed to me. I say “idea” because I am pretty sure I have never actually tasted tzimmes. The dish always seemed too sweet to be appealing, even if sweet foods are traditionally enjoyed for the New Year.

But recently, while thinking of new ways to reinvent a few classic Rosh Hashanah dishes, I began thinking about tzimmes. And perhaps with a couple of very liberal (and namely savory) changes, who’s to say it couldn’t become something newer, grander and much more enticing for a palate like mine?

My experimentation has produced a colorful, show-stopping and nontraditional chicken dish.

Wonderfully savory chicken now complements the sweet tzimmes of yore, which I have updated by swapping fresh, juicy plums and apricots for their dry, pruney counterparts, adding sweetly swirled candy cane beets (you can also use red or golden beets); switching out regular carrots for vivid, tricolored ones; and tossing in a handful of golden raisins to be plumped up with aromatic pan juices. Alongside the requisite onion, aromatic rosemary and heady cloves of garlic, the striking fruit-and-vegetable mixture roasts in a cinnamon, ras el hanout (a Moroccan spice blend) and spiked date honey sauce.

Once the fruits and vegetables have softened a bit, they are topped by the chicken and doused in a saffron-infused white wine mixture, which saturates the entire dish as its components roast together in happy, fragrant harmony.

Now we have a delicious dish with tender fruits and vegetables, bronzed chicken and a saffron-and-white-wine-flavored gravy that puddles at the bottom of the pan and would be splendid spooned over fluffy couscous. Serve this holiday-worthy chicken with even more wine and with shreds of fresh green parsley, then watch as even the most vehement tzimmes haters come slowly, then speedily around.

For the fruits and vegetables:
2 bunches small colored candy cane beets, tops removed, scrubbed and sliced
1 bunch colorful young carrots, scrubbed and thicker ones sliced in half
4 apricots, halved, some quartered
4 big purple plums, halved and some sliced
1/2 cup golden raisins
10 cloves garlic, peeled
1 large onion, peeled and sliced into thick rings
3 sprigs fresh rosemary
chopped parsley, for serving

Some of the fruits and vegetables that go in a newfangled tzimmes dish.


For the chicken, sauce and saffron white wine marinade:
4 chicken bottoms, cleaned
2 teaspoons fine sea salt
2 sprigs fresh rosemary
1/4 teaspoon saffron threads
1/4 cup water
3/4 cups good white wine
3 tablespoons date honey (silan)
1/4 cup olive oil
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
3 cardamom pods, lightly crushed
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
2 pinches cayenne pepper
1/4 teaspoon ras el hanout

1. Preheat the oven to 425 F. Rub the chicken bottoms with the sea salt and the 2 sprigs of fresh rosemary.

2. Toast the saffron threads in a small pan over low-medium heat for about 3-5 minutes until they are slightly toasty and fragrant. Remove the pan from the heat, add the 1/4 cup of water and let it sit and turn yellow as the saffron infuses its flavor into the water.

3. Combine the cooled saffron water, of which you should have 1/4 cup, with the white wine. Mix and set aside until needed.

4. Make the marinade: Whisk the date honey, oil, black pepper, cinnamon, cumin, cayenne and ras el hanout in a large bowl.

5. Add the chicken pieces, carrots, onion, cardamom pods, garlic, apricots, plums, carrots, beets, golden raisins and rosemary to the large bowl and toss to combine.

6. Remove the chicken and set aside in a clean, baking paper-lined pan until needed. Spread the fruits and vegetables on a baking paper-lined rimmed baking sheet.

7. Pour half of the saffron/white wine mixture on the chicken and half on the vegetables. Cover the vegetables tightly with foil. Roast 15 minutes, then remove from oven. Remove and discard the cardamom.

8.  Remove foil, lower the heat to 400 F. and top the vegetables with the chicken and the rest of the saffron/white wine mix.

9. Continue to roast until the beets and carrots are tender, the chicken is golden brown and the whole mixture smells divine, around 40 minutes to 1 hour. (If the fruits and vegetables get too dark, you can remove the sheet tray from the oven, place the chicken in another pan and return that pan to the oven until the chicken is nice and golden, leaving out the vegetables.)

10. When the chicken and vegetables are done, transfer chicken mixture to serving platter. Pour pan juices over. Top with shredded parsley before serving.

Chaya Rappoport is the blogger, baker and picture taker behind Currently a pastry sous chef at a Brooklyn bakery, she’s been blogging since 2012 and her work has been featured on The Feed Feed,, Food and Wine and Conde Nast Traveler.

The Nosher food blog offers a dazzling array of new and classic Jewish recipes and food news, from Europe to Yemen, from challah to shakshuka and beyond. Check it out at

Rosh Hashanah recipes from Chef Ari Kolender

Cast-Iron Peach Crisp. Photo by Jessica Ritz

Chef Ari Kolendar has a few favorite, hearty fall dishes his maternal grandmother used to make at Rosh Hashanah for their large family in Charleston, S.C. “Now that I’m in the field,” he said, “I’ve mastered her recipes.”

[MORE: Chef Ari Kolender branches out with new café]

Here, he’s adapted them, mixing just the right amount of nostalgia with ingredients to satisfy contemporary tastes.


– 8 ounces packaged egg noodles
– 3 eggs, beaten
– 4 ounces unsalted butter
– 3/4 cup sugar
– 8 ounces pineapple, diced small
– 2 apples, diced small

Preheat oven to 350 F.
Cook noodles in boiling water until tender. Drain and place into a Pyrex dish.
Place the rest of the ingredients into a bowl and whisk together. Pour into the Pyrex dish, over the noodles. Sprinkle with cinnamon and sugar then bake for 1 hour.
Makes 6 to 8 servings.

Preheat oven to 350 F.

Cook noodles in boiling water until tender. Drain and place into a Pyrex dish.

Place the rest of the ingredients into a bowl and whisk together. Pour into the Pyrex dish, over the noodles. Sprinkle with cinnamon and sugar then bake for 1 hour.

Makes 6 to 8 servings.


– 3 pounds fresh yellow squash
– 2 tablespoons olive oil
– 2 teaspoons salt
– 1 teaspoon ground white pepper, if available
– 1 yellow onion, diced small
– 2 eggs
– 1 teaspoon sugar
– 4 ounces melted unsalted butter, plus some cold butter for the Pyrex dish
– 1 cup seasoned bread crumbs for topping

Preheat oven to 350 F.

Cut the squash in half, then season with olive oil, salt and pepper. Cook in the oven until tender, about 10 minutes.

Once cool, chop the squash and place into a bowl. Add the rest of the ingredients into a bowl and whisk together. Place into a buttered Pyrex dish and cover with seasoned bread crumbs. Bake in preheated oven for 45 minutes.

Makes 6 to 8 servings.


– 6 tablespoons olive oil
– 2 pints cherry tomatoes
– 1 tablespoon yellow onion, diced small
– 2 cloves garlic, minced
– 1/2 cup matzo meal
– 1 tablespoon parsley, chopped
– 1 teaspoon salt
– 1/2 teaspoon black pepper

Preheat oven to 425 F.

Lightly coat a shallow baking dish with 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Add tomatoes to pan.

In a medium bowl, add the remaining ingredients. Mix well and sprinkle over the tomatoes. Roast for 20 to 25 minutes until golden brown and tomatoes are tender.

Makes 6-8 servings.


– Store-bought pie shell
– 3/4 stick melted unsalted butter
– 3/4 cup sugar
– 3/4 cup white corn syrup
– 3 eggs
– 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
– 3/4 cup pecans, chopped
– 1/2 cup chocolate chips
– Whipped cream for topping

Preheat oven to 350 F.

Bake the pie shell for 12 minutes. Let cool and reserve.

Using a standing mixer or a hand-held electric mixer, cream the butter and the sugar until light and fluffy. Mix in the syrup, eggs and vanilla slowly. Once incorporated, stir in the pecans and the chocolate chips.

Pour into the pie shell and bake in the preheated oven for 45 minutes. Serve warm with whipped cream.

Makes 6 to 8 servings.


– Peach Crisp Topping (recipe follows)
– 1 tablespoon cold unsalted butter for preparing the pan
– 2 pounds firm peaches (about 5 medium), cut into half-inch width slices
– 1/3 cup brown sugar
– 1/4 cup white sugar
– 5 ounces pecans, toasted and chopped
– 3/4 teaspoon garam masala spice mix, if available
– 1 tablespoon lemon juice
– 1/3 teaspoon sea salt

Preheat oven to 350 F.

Prepare the Peach Crisp Topping; set aside.

Smear the sides and bottom of a cast iron pan with the cold butter.

In a bowl, mix the peaches, brown sugar, white sugar, pecans, spice mix, lemon juice and salt. Place into the pan and finish by scattering the Topping on top.

Bake in the preheated oven for 25 to 30 minutes. The topping should be golden brown.

Makes 6 to 8 servings.


– 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
– 1/3 cup all purpose flour
– 1/3 cup brown sugar
– Pinch of sea salt

Melt the butter and set aside.

Combine flour, sugar and salt in a bowl and mix together. Add the room temperature butter and mix until fully incorporated. Crumble the mixture on top of the fruit in the pan.

Brooklyn Brands’ babka bound for the big time

Supreme chocolate babka from Lilly’s Baking Co. Photo by Scott Gordon Bleicher

On the corner of 62nd Street and Ninth Avenue in southwest Brooklyn, just a stone’s throw from Sandy Koufax’s childhood stomping grounds, an irrepressible scent of chocolate swirls in the air.

It’s coming from Brooklyn Brands, an old-school-meets-new-school bakery that turns out Ashkenazi Jewish classics such as babka, marble cake, hamantashen, rugelach and some of the best black-and-white cookies New York City has to offer.

Each day, some 250 people clock in at the bustling, multiroom commercial bakery, whose products have spread across the country, including to Los Angeles. In one room, a team of workers decorates the black-and-whites by hand, dipping spatulas into oversized saucepans of icing and smoothing them over each cookie’s surface. Nearby, other staffers braid fat ropes of yeasted challah dough into loaves, and chocolate-filled strands of babka are coiled and tucked into baking pans. 

Brooklyn Brands was founded in 2015, but its history stretches back to the early 1940s, when Renee Schick opened a small, kosher challah and pastry business that grew into the locally beloved Schick’s Gourmet Bakery. Today, Schick’s is one of five Brooklyn-based kosher bakeries housed under the Brooklyn Brands line. The others include Lilly’s Baking Company, Mezonos Maven, Smilowitz Bakery and Mehadrin. 

Co-directors Seth Zalkin and Mickey Klein, longtime friends and business partners, believe in the power of numbers. So when they acquired the bakeries, which had been consolidated by the previous owner, they began to imagine what it would look like for a slice of Brooklyn’s Jewish culinary heritage to reach across the country, even the globe.

“We saw a brand that was undermarketed and underdeveloped, but the quality of baked goods being produced was consistently high,” Klein said. “We grew up with these products and realized they could have wider appeal.”

“These companies were selling primarily to local yeshivas and kosher groceries,” Zalkin added. “We wanted them to be in places like Whole Foods, Stop & Shop, Publix, Costco and Kroger.”

Today, the company’s products are sold in more than 10,000 supermarkets across the United States and online. Customers in far-flung locales, from Louisiana to California, who almost certainly would not have stumbled across authentic Brooklyn babka or rugelach in their supermarkets, are smitten with these Jewish sweets. In Los Angeles, Whole Foods sells them under the Lilly’s or Schick’s brand, and they long ago started appearing around the Southland at other gourmet retailers.

One customer’s recent Amazon review of Lilly’s cinnamon babka is particularly representative: “On a lark I ordered ‘babka’ because I had heard about it on Seinfeld. It is delicious!”

“We thank Seinfeld every day,” said Klein, referring to the episode in which Jerry and Elaine attempt to order the pastry at a Manhattan bakery.

Zalkin and Klein are smitten too. Maybe it’s the draw of being part of such a vibrant baking community, or maybe it’s just the siren call of yeast, jam and chocolate. But while they remain active partners at their global advisory firm, Astor Group, Klein said he and Zalkin now spend 99 percent of their time at Brooklyn Brands. 

Klein, who immigrated to New York from the Soviet Union as a child, is fluent in Hebrew and Yiddish. The latter language goes an especially long way when working with traditional kosher bakeries and Chasidic clients in Brooklyn. Zalkin, meanwhile, has an impressive if unusual familial connection to kosher baking. His grandmother, Hattie Zalkin, helped persuade the Girl Scouts to remove lard from their cookie recipes and get kosher certification.

Under Brooklyn Brands, the five bakeries continue to function primarily as they always have, without much top-down disruption, although they are now all under the same roof instead of in separate locations. All of the baked goods are currently pareve (the company plans to add a dairy line in 2018) and maintain a homey, Jewish quality.

Products from Mezonos Maven, Smilowitz, and Mehadrin are sold primarily in New York, New Jersey and Connecticut, while Lilly’s and, to some extent, Schick’s, are scaling up and beyond. 

To that end, a few significant changes have been made. The first is ensuring that the Brooklyn Brands’ products, many of which have been made with the same recipes for decades, remain high quality. “Our feeling was, if we can’t make a product we are proud of, let’s not do it anymore,” Zalkin said. 

Seth Zalkin, left, and Mickey Klein, owners of Brooklyn Brands. Photo by Nicholas Lau


Today, the products’ ingredient lists are noticeably more wholesome than those on most commercially produced baked goods — think unbleached flour, cocoa powder, and orange juice rather than hydrogenated cottonseed oil and artificial flavorings. The team recently developed a rainbow cookie colored with food dyes made from pigment-rich plants rather than from chemicals — red from beets, yellow from turmeric, and green from alfalfa. The goal is to be completely free of genetically modified organisms (GMOs) by next year.

“We’re making stuff that my wife and I feel OK feeding to our kids,” Zalkin said.

Of course, babka and marble cake aren’t exactly health foods. But for those looking for “intentional indulgences,” as Klein called them, his bakeries provide a better option. 

The second big change is packaging, which up until recently had a decidedly old-fashioned and ad hoc look. “There was not a lot of branding consistency. The products were called by different names in different places,” Zalkin said.

They worked with a design team to create modern logos and boxes that would appeal to a wider audience while staying recognizable to longtime customers. The packages also tout the pastries’ various health claims, such as vegan or gluten-free.

Brooklyn Brands is in the final stages of opening a second baking facility in the South Bronx that Zalkin described as “bigger, fancier and more fun.” The expansion will allow scaled-up production to meet growing demand, but Zalkin said the hand-crafted approach to baking will remain.

When it comes to growth, the team is open to expanding the product line, so long as new baked goods capture the same spirit of Old World, ethnic Brooklyn baking. So, Italian almond horn cookies? Perhaps. Croissants? Probably not.

Most important, Zalkin said, they want Brooklyn Brands’ baked goods to continue reaching new corners of the country and world. They would love to see hamantashen and macaroons served at church picnics and at family reunions as well as on synagogue Kiddush tables. Their honey cakes already are a year-round staple, although production spikes during the High Holy Days.

The two entrepreneurs envision single-serve packages of their black-and-whites and other cookies in places like 7-Eleven and at Starbucks.

“There is no reason our products should not be mainstream American brands,” Zalkin said. “We are not just an Orthodox Jewish bakery. We are a fantastic bakery.”

Leah Koenig is the author of “Little Book of Jewish Appetizers” and “Modern Jewish Cooking.”

Figs add richness to holiday sweets

Fresh Fig-Nut Loaf With Streusel Topping. Photos by Cyndi Bemel

Traditionally during Rosh Hashanah, foods sweetened with honey are eaten to symbolize the wish for a sweet and happy year ahead. But at my family’s holiday dinner, we like to supplement them with something equally nectarous: fresh figs.

One of the seven species of fruits and grains named in the Bible, figs offer distinctive sweetness to many recipes and fit perfectly into the New Year’s menu. California dried figs are plentiful all year round, but fresh figs also are available at this time of the year. (I like to get mine from a tree in my son Zeke’s backyard.) They add a rich source of fiber, vitamins and minerals, and are versatile enough to try in salads, main courses and desserts. 

These four recipes are easy to make, and each is a little different from the way you may have enjoyed figs previously. Delicious, fresh fig bread can be whipped up in a few minutes, and it has a nice chewy texture. Served in thin slices, it is especially good with fruit or cheese. Serve for breakfast topped with orange marmalade.

Israeli-style stuffed figs with a chocolate-nut filling are a gourmet delight and they can take the place of a tray of pastries. Make a few extra to give to dinner guests to take home, or wrap them in a box or basket to bring when you are invited to dinner on Rosh Hashanah.

The Italian Fig Cake is inspired by the famous panforte, a delicious confection that originated in Siena, Italy. Rich, dense and chewy, the ingredients include dried figs, nuts, honey, spices and an assortment of other dried fruits. It keeps well in tins and is another good choice to bring as a gift from your kitchen.

As a bonus, serve fresh figs with homemade ricotta cheese and honey. The recipe for fresh ricotta takes just a short time to make — as long as it takes to boil milk — and much longer to enjoy!


– Streusel Topping (recipe follows)
– 1/2 cup melted, unsalted butter
– 3/4 cup finely ground walnuts or pecans
– 2 cups sugar
– 2 1/2 cups flour
– 2 teaspoons baking soda
– 1 teaspoon salt
– 1 cup unsalted butter, cut in pieces
– 2 cups toasted, chopped walnuts or pecans
– 2 cups (about 8 large figs) peeled and mashed fresh figs
– 4 eggs
– 1/2 cup milk

Preheat oven to 350 F.

Prepare Streusel Topping; set aside.

Brush 4 3-by-7-by-2-inch loaf pans generously with melted butter; sprinkle them with ground nuts and set aside.

In the large bowl of an electric mixer, blend the sugar, flour, baking soda and salt. Add the butter and blend until crumbly. Add the chopped walnuts and mix well. 

In a medium bowl, beat the figs, eggs and milk together. Pour the fig mixture into the flour mixture all at once. Stir gently just until all the dry ingredients are moistened; do not over-stir.

Spoon the batter into the prepared loaf pans. Sprinkle each loaf with 2 to 3 tablespoons of the Streusel Topping. Bake for 40 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean and the loaves begin to come away from the sides of the pans.

Makes 4 loaves.


– 1/2 cup brown sugar
– 1/4 cup flour
– 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
– 1/4 cup unsalted butter
– 1/2 cup chopped walnuts or pecans

In a food processor or large bowl of an electric mixer, blend together the brown sugar, flour, cinnamon and butter just until crumbly; do not over-mix. Stir in the chopped walnuts. Cover and set aside.

Makes about 1 cup. 


– 8 ounces dried figs
– 1 cup golden raisins
– 1 cup dried apples
– Grated peel of 1 orange and 1 lemon
– 1/2 cup flour
– 1/4 cup cocoa
– 2 teaspoons cinnamon
– 1/8 teaspoon mace
– 1/8 teaspoon white pepper
– 3/4 cup honey
– 1/2 cup sugar
– Juice of 1 orange
– 1 1/2 cups whole toasted almonds
– 1 1/2 cups whole toasted filberts
– 1/2 cup powdered sugar

 Preheat oven to 300 F.

Place figs, raisins, dried apples, orange and lemon peel in a food processor and blend until finely chopped, or place in chopping bowl and chop until fine. Transfer fruit mixture to a large mixing bowl.

Sift together flour, cocoa, cinnamon, mace and pepper. Add to dried fruit mixture and mix well.

In a heavy saucepan, heat the honey, sugar and orange juice until sugar dissolves. Carefully pour hot liquid into dried fruit mixture. Add nuts and stir well.

Line  an 8- or 9-inch round baking pan with parchment or wax paper and spoon in mixture. Bake in preheated oven for 50 minutes to 1 hour or until cake browns around the edges and paper comes away from the pan. (Cake will be sticky on top.)

Cool in pan for 10 minutes.

Dust a 12-inch square of foil with 1/4 cup powdered sugar. Turn cake upside down onto prepared foil. Peel off paper used to line pan and invert onto cake plate. Before serving, sprinkle with additional powdered sugar.

Makes about 10 servings.


– 2 ounces semisweet chocolate, grated
– 1 cup ground almonds
– 24 large dried California figs
– 24 toasted whole almonds

Preheat oven to 350 F.

In a bowl, combine chocolate and ground almonds; set aside.

Using scissors or a knife, remove the stems from the figs. Make a deep depression  in each fig with your finger or a small spoon. Stuff each fig with the chocolate mixture. Pinch each opening together firmly.

Place the stuffed figs, stem side up, on a foil-lined baking sheet. Bake in preheated oven for 5 minutes. Turn figs over and bake another 5 minutes or until the bottoms begin to brown. Press a whole almond into each fig and reseal.

Makes 24 stuffed figs.


Homemade ricotta cheese


– 1/2 gallon whole milk
– 1 cup cream
– 2 teaspoons salt
– 6 tablespoons lemon juice
– Honey, for garnish

Heat the milk, cream and salt over medium heat until it is about to boil. Add the lemon juice, stir a few times and when mixture begins to curdle, remove from the heat. Let curds rest for a minute or two. Using a slotted spoon, skim the ricotta curds from the whey and place them in a colander or wire sieve lined with cheesecloth. Drain for 15 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature, with a drizzle of honey. 

Makes about 1/2 pound.

JUDY ZEIDLER is a food consultant, cooking teacher and author of 10 cookbooks, including “Italy Cooks” (Mostarda Press, 2011). Her website is

Nic Adler weds music festivals with delicious food

Nic Adler. Photo by Lisa Johnson

On Day One of Arroyo Seco Weekend, a massive music festival held recently on the grounds outside of the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, culinary stars were competing with such stage performers as Jeff Goldblum, Alabama Shakes and Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers.

“Oh yeah, there’s music here, too,” my friend said as we ate vegan ramen from chef Ilan Hall’s Ramen Hood, soft serve ice cream from the NoMad Truck, lobster rolls from Slapfish and other stellar eats made by some of Los Angeles’ best restaurants and food makers.

The person behind this SoCal music/food festival phenomenon is Nic Adler, whose upbringing has all the hallmarks of a classic Hollywood tale. He was raised by famous parents — music producer Lou Adler and actress Britt Ekland — in an environment soaked in the sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll scenes of Los Angeles in the 1970s and ’80s. Needless to say, it wasn’t a typical childhood. Now 44, Adler is calm and deliberate, the father of an infant and a 4-year-old, and a Westside resident who jokes about living in a boring neighborhood.

His primary role now is Culinary Curator of Goldenvoice, a concert promotion company that grew out of the L.A. punk scene decades ago and mounts large events such as the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival every spring in Indio and the recent Arroyo Seco Weekend.

“Whenever I tell a story about somewhere I’ve been or something in my life, I instantly pair it with food,” he said.

It all started with the after-school-to-evening hours he spent at The Roxy Theatre and the Rainbow Bar & Grill, his father’s venues on the Sunset Strip, where the music and food connection became “ingrained in me.” “I’d get hungry, grab some food, get bored, go see the band, then go back and hang out in the kitchen,” he recalled.

Adler came back to the Roxy as an adult, spending 15 years running it and getting involved with other entertainment ventures.

About four years ago, a conversation with Goldenvoice President and CEO Paul Tollett at the Rose Bowl proved to be life-altering. Adler’s cumulative experiences as a music and food festival producer and attendee, and as a vegan with limited food choices, gave him a distinct perspective. Tollett was receptive to hearing about how and why the food options at Goldenvoice’s major events, specifically Coachella, could benefit from a major upgrade. The annual Outside Lands festival in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park already was making food and drink an integral part of its programming, too, so Adler suggested it was time for SoCal events to step up.

“We had both grown up around the Roxy in the ’90s music scene. There was this kind of community with all the bands,” Adler said. “I saw something similar happening with all the breweries, and it was happening in the food world.”

Adler started producing food festivals while he still was immersed in the club and live music business but still saw the two as somewhat separate realms.

His work with Goldenvoice to make Coachella’s food and drink scene as much of a draw as its music and art was a game-changer. In that environment, “there are hundreds of thousands of people, and there’s a discovery mode,” Adler said.

He noticed another parallel, in part a result of heavily food-populated social media feeds. Much as “bands were moving away from albums and singles, I saw that a little bit in the food world,” he said.

Adler invited chefs, restaurants and smaller-scale purveyors to serve versions of their greatest hits on-site at Coachella. Also part of the festival roster is Outstanding in the Field, a sit-down restaurant venue serving four-course (and pricey) meals from different chefs.

The offerings have changed the image of typical crowd-pleasing food. There are still pizza, hot dogs and burgers. But new choices include Micah Wexler’s pastrami, wines from Jill Bernheimer’s Domaine LA shop and Broken Spanish’s ceviche. Adler focuses on added value, too, such as small environmental and design details, and special collaborations among chefs and food producers.

“I’m trying to create a storyline at these festivals that food and beverage are part of your experiences,” he said. “The more I can pack into that, the more of that kind of texture that I can put around the conversation around food, the better it tastes.”

The Vegan Beer & Food Festival, now called Eat Drink Vegan, is  another Adler project also held at the Rose Bowl. Recently, one of his six younger brothers from his father’s subsequent relationships, Cisco, opened the Malibu Burger Co. restaurant in their native neighborhood, and Nic curated the beer list.

Meanwhile, Adler’s father — who has attended the last five Coachella festivals — remains a constant inspiration and resource, spurring his son to think about crowd control and management and which food vendors will be a hit. “My dad would always look for places where there were a lot of trucks. He knew [truck drivers] traveled all across the country and they weren’t going to waste a good meal.”

Adler said his father also insisted that his kids spend time with their grandmother, Josie, whom Adler acknowledged was a stabilizing force during his unconventional childhood.

“ ‘Call your grandmother; Go see your grandmother; Go get her some matzo ball soup; Bring her some flowers.’ My dad was always pushing me to spend time with her,” Adler said. “We had a very special relationship.”

The wider Adler family worldview, he said, includes understanding how “things can be around forever and be respected and culturally relevant.

“What’s still more relevant than ‘Up in Smoke’ and ‘Rocky Horror’ and Monterey Pop and Carole King?” he said. “Those things are as important right now as they were when they came out.”

So, thanks to Nic Adler, the best live music you ever heard and some of the tastiest food you ever ate might become simultaneous experiences.

A plant-based diet can boost body and mind wellness

Heirloom Tomato Basil Sauce is full of lycopene. Photo by Sadie Rae Hersh

Over the decades, the baby boomer generation has found many ways to differentiate itself, from its role in the counterculture to the rise of feminism to, now, if my cooking classes are any indication, dietary choices in the kitchen.

They are embracing the trend of unprocessed, natural foods and other healthy eating habits. Baby boomers aren’t interested in aging as their parents did. They want to feel and look better — and live longer.

But what is healthy for one demographic might not be right for another. It turns out that baby boomers have a number of nutritional needs that require special attention. To learn more about them, I turned to my go-to health expert — also known as my sister — Dr. Tamara Horwich, attending cardiologist and associate clinical professor of medicine/cardiology at the David Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA. I also reached out to Sally Kravich, my personal nutritionist who specializes in holistic nutrition and healing.

Although these two women approach health from different angles, their thoughts on the matter frequently intersected. Here’s what I came to understand, in layman’s terms: As we age, our bodies harden. We recognize this easily in our muscles, which stiffen, and in our joints, which become less flexible. It shouldn’t be surprising then that the interior fabric of our bodies — such as our arteries — also loses pliability.

It’s probably not surprising either, then, that the top killer in the United States is heart disease, according to the National Center for Health Statistics. So that’s the bad news. (Worse news, guys: The same things that cause heart disease can be the culprits behind erectile dysfunction.) The good news is that there are delicious preventative measures one can take to reduce one’s risk, such as drinking coffee and following a Mediterranean diet.

Cancer is the No. 2 killer. However, there is evidence that certain dietary measures can help thwart the growth of cancer in our cells. “Animal products are associated with risk of cancer. The more plant-based foods you eat, the lower the risk of cancer seems to be,” my sister said.

Kravich, a baby boomer herself, stressed the importance of maintaining a healthy immune system by consuming foods rich in vitamin A, such as dark orange veggies. She also encourages her clients to add ginger, garlic and turmeric to their food to further boost immune health.

Both Horwich and Kravich advise eating a rainbow of different colored fruits and vegetables, which means lots of various minerals, vitamins and antioxidants. The answer to healthy living is not in overeating one food, but in focusing on consuming a spectrum of colors. Think red tomatoes, orange squash, yellow peppers, green leafy vegetables, blue berries, pink radicchio and purple cauliflower.

For baby boomers worried about brain health and lowering the risk of dementia as they age, Kravich recommends magnesium, which can be found in dark chocolate and dark greens such as collards or kale. She also points to foods with omega-3 fatty acids — found in walnuts, fish and whole eggs — as well as blueberries and the lycopene found in tomato sauce.

Bone fragility and osteoporosis affect men and women as they get older, and not surprisingly, the key mineral for bone health is calcium. But there’s also the protein collagen, found in bones — and hence many soups.

“Old-fashioned soups strengthen the bones,” Kravich said. “Broths cooked at length made from chicken bones, beef bones and fish bones support your bones, but you have to cook them at least three to four hours if not longer. And by adding dark greens like bok choy or broccoli, you increase the calcium content.”

In order to stay healthy year-round, I’m providing one dish for each season of the year, filled with fresh ingredients that specifically target immune support for the body. Start this summer by making some pasta to go with my Heirloom Tomato Basil Sauce — it’s full of lycopene, which is great for heart, brain, bone, eye and prostate health. Everyone should have a go-to tomato sauce and this one, with its purity and simplicity, will transport you right to Italy.

When things start to cool off in the fall, boomers can fill themselves with the immune boosters in my Rainbow Roasted Root Veggies With Caramelized Onions and Sage. In the winter, Bok Choy Chicken Soup With Ginger and Garlic can provide generous doses of collagen and calcium to support bone health. And in the spring, enjoy some Quinoa Tabouli With Four Fresh Herbs filled with antioxidants and natural anti-inflammatories. Plus quinoa is a delicious plant-based protein, especially when you dress it like I do.

Healing recipes for all seasons


  • 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
  • 1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
  • 3 garlic cloves, peeled and crushed with side of knife
  • 1 1/4 pounds (3 large) organic heirloom tomatoes of mixed colors, cut into 1⁄2-inch cubes
  • 3 sprigs basil leaves, totaling around 15 leaves, left on stems
  • 1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for salting pasta water
  • 8 ounces green lentil pasta
  • 1/4 cup toasted pine nuts
  • Parmigiano Reggiano to taste, freshly grated, for serving, optional


Put pan over medium heat and add olive oil, followed by red pepper flakes and garlic. Let garlic infuse its flavor into the olive oil for a few minutes, until it becomes translucent and becomes slightly golden. The exact time will depend on your pan’s thickness and the heat but do not let it burn. Add tomatoes and stir, then add basil, on the stems, and stir. Let sauté for 3 minutes. Add salt and let cook for 15 to 20 minutes. When the tomatoes are soft enough, smush them with a fork or the back of a wooden spoon. Taste the sauce. If you want it to be a little thicker, cook for a few minutes longer. Set aside. (Return to medium/high heat a minute before your pasta is done cooking.)

Bring a large pot of water to a rolling boil. Throw in a handful of kosher salt and the pasta and stir vigorously to separate the strands of noodles. Let cook until al dente, the moment when the crunchiness just gives over to chewiness, and drain. Do not rinse pasta.

With a vivacious flame under the sauce, add the noodles to it and toss with tongs until all of the noodles are covered in sauce and continue to toss for another 45 seconds. Top with toasted pine nuts, and Parmigiano if using, and serve immediately, or serve and pass around the cheese with a grater.

Makes 2 to 3 servings.


  • 1 organic medium sweet potato, unpeeled, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
  • 1 organic medium yam unpeeled, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
  • 1 medium or two small purple sweet potatoes
  • 1 fennel bulb, core and tops removed, and sliced into 1/2-inch pieces
  • 1 organic parsnip, unpeeled, sliced into 1/4-inch rings
  • 1 large red onion, peeled and roughly chopped
  • 2 leeks, cleaned and sliced, white and light green parts only
  • 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
  • Freshly ground pepper (about 50 grinds)
  • 2 teaspoons dried sage


Place rack on lowest level of oven, and preheat oven to 425 F.

Place the vegetables on a large baking sheet lined with parchment paper and drizzle with olive oil. Sprinkle with salt and grind pepper over them. Sprinkle with the sage. Use your fingers to toss all the pieces so they are evenly coated with oil and spices. Add more spices to taste. Bake for 45 minutes or until vegetables have browned. Toss and serve.

Makes 6 to 8 servings.


  • 4 cups Chicken Broth (recipe follows)
  • 1 organic boneless, skinless chicken breast, optional
  • 3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
  • 1 medium yellow or red onion
  • 2 cloves garlic, chopped, plus
  • 2 cloves garlic, chopped, for serving bowls
  • 4 baby bok choy, sliced horizontally in 1⁄2-inch strips
  • Grated fresh ginger to taste (up to a teaspoon per bowl/person)
  • Fresh cilantro leaves, a handful or a 1/2 cup
  • Kosher salt to taste, about 1/2 teaspoon per serving


Prepare Chicken Broth, then set aside.

If you want chicken in the soup, boil the chicken breast in the broth, covered, until just cooked through. Turn off heat. Remove and shred with you fingers.

In a separate medium pot, coat bottom with olive oil and place over medium heat.

Sauté onions along with the chopped garlic. When translucent, add broth and bring to a boil. Add salt to taste.
Add bok choy and boil for a minute, until cooked but still bright green. Divide the rest of the chopped garlic to taste and grated ginger in each serving bowl and pour in the soup. Top generously with fresh cilantro leaves.

Makes 4 servings.


  • 3 pounds organic chicken backs, necks or wings
  • 2 yellow onions, unpeeled and left whole
  • 3 carrots
  • 3 stalks celery
  • 3 sprigs parsley
  • 1 bay leaf
  • 2 cloves garlic
  • 6 quarts water or just fill a large stock pot to cover vegetables
  • Kosher salt to taste


Put all the ingredients into a large stockpot and cover with water. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce heat to low and continue to cook, covered, for 4 hours. Let cool before storing in fridge or freezer.

Makes about 6 quarts.


  • 2 cups quinoa
  • 4 cups water
  • 1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
  • 2 scant teaspoons kosher salt
  • Juice of 2 lemons
  • Zest of 1 lemon
  • 1 teaspoon wheat-free tamari (or good soy sauce)
  • 1 teaspoon coconut aminos or Bragg Liquid Aminos (or another 1/2 teaspoon wheat-free tamari)
  • 1 1/4 cups finely chopped fresh mint
  • 1/2 cup finely chopped fresh parsley
  • 1/2 cup finely chopped fresh basil
  • 1/2 cup finely chopped fresh cilantro
  • 15 cherry tomatoes, quartered


Cook quinoa with water in an automatic rice cooker, or follow package instructions. When done, remove lid to let cool slightly.

While still warm, add olive oil and salt and stir. Add lemon juice and lemon zest. Stir. Add tamari and coconut aminos. Stir. Add fresh herbs and and tomatoes and stir.

Let sit for 10 minutes for flavors to harmonize, then serve.

Makes 6 to 8 servings.

ELANA HORWICH is the founder of Meal and a Spiel, a private cooking school based in Los Angeles.

Episode 43 – What is Israeli food? A conversation with Gil Hovav

Everybody who comes to Israel adores the food – it’s colorful, diverse and multi-cultured. As Israelies, we grow up eating Tunisian, Romanian, Iraqi and Italian food, and many other cuisines – sometimes all in the same week. And for us it’s quite normal. So normal, perhaps, that we rarely stop to ask ourselves: Is there even such a thing as Israeli cuisine?

To try and answer this question, Two Nice Jewish Boys called upon the master of Israeli food, Gil Hovav. Every Israeli household has been eating from Gil’s plate for over two decades. He’s starred in numerous televised cooking shows and food documentaries. He is a man of the world, an author, a lover of Hebrew (and Arabic!), the great-grandson of Ben Yehuda (the reviver of the Hebrew language) and above all – one helluva mench. Join us for a gastronomic episode.

We also played an amazing song by Hagar Levy! Check her our on Bandcamp and Facebook.

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How to make blintzes: A video tutorial



– 1 cup flour
– 2 tbsp. sugar
– 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
– 1/2 tsp. salt
– 3 eggs
– 1 1/4 cups whole milk
– 1 tbsp. vegetable oil


– 1 lb. ricotta cheese, at room temperature
– 2 tbsp sour cream or mascarpone
– 3 egg yolks
– 3 tbsp. sugar
– 1/2 tsp. lemon zest
– 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract

1.  Combine crepe batter ingredients in blender or bowl and mix until smooth.  Let rest a half hour.

2.  Combine filling ingredients in mixer or bowl and blend until smooth. (Use good quality ricotta.  If very moist, drain in cheesecloth-lined colander; set inside pan for a few hours or overnight in refrigerator)

3.  Heat a non-stick crepe pan or 8 inch skillet.  Rub with oil or butter.  Add ¼ cup batter and tilt pan to spread batter thin.  Cook until set then flip.  Cook until dry, then turn out onto plate.  Repeat until all the batter is used.

4.  Spread 2 or 3 tbsp. of filling along bottom of crepe.  Roll up into a cylinder, tucking ends in before you finish rolling. Repeat until all the crepes are filled.

5.  Heat one tbsp. vegetable oil in a skillet, Add crepes 2-3 at a time and cook on each side until golden. Serve with a dollop of sour cream and fresh berries.

Makes 10–12




Frozen blintzes are for cowards, so here’s how to make them from scratch

Not pictured: freezer burn. Photo by Tess Cutler

Don’t get me wrong. I have at least four boxes of (Streit’s?) cheese blintzes gathering a third layer of permafrost in my freezer right now. I bought them before the glatt marts could jack up the prices because this is not my first go-round, folks. This is my life.

However! I do not expect to unpackage them this holiday. Or, perhaps, ever. That is because after making my own blintzes with the following recipe I have settled on the conclusion that frozen blintzes are for cowards. You can whip up a batch homemade so easily that to buy the little kosher hot pockets from the store would be to impugn—nay, swear off—your integrity in the kitchen.

Not to mention that the frozen kind never cook evenly and don’t taste that great to begin with. Have I ever had a positive frozen blintz experience? The short answer is no. The long answer is, has anyone? Nothing like biting into a blackened potatoey crust that you are certain is cooked all the way, only for the cool dispassion of stubborn icicles to greet you in the interior. Come on now. Let’s just make them from scratch.

First: go shopping!

Here’s what you need that you might not have: good ricotta cheese, sour cream, a lemon, and blueberries. (I take it you have vanilla.) Everything else is below:

You will need:

…for the crepes

1 cup flour
2 tbsp sugar
1/2 tsp vanilla
1/2 tsp salt
3 eggs
1.25 cups whole milk
1 tbsp vegetable oil

…for the filling

1 lb ricotta cheese (get the good stuff)
3 tbsp sour cream or mascarpone
2 egg yolks
3 tbsp sugar
1/2 tsp lemon zest
1/2 tsp vanilla extract

…for the win

hella blueberries
a tablespoon (or less!) of sugar

Also get out: a big round frying pan, a saucepan, a mixing bowl, a strainer and a stick of butter to play around with.

After you have all your ingredients together, start by making the crepe batter. Take all the ingredients from the first half and whisk them together in a bowl. This should be a relatively thin liquid, thin enough to drip off the whisk when you hold it over the bowl but thick enough that it doesn’t all run off immediately. Okay, now let it sit.

[The life hack here is to double this part of the recipe and save half the batter for breakfast, when you can cook up crepes any other way you like. Thank me later.]

Next, take a look at the ricotta. Is it good and wet, dripping like a baby fresh out the bathtub? In that case, let it towel off in a colander to drain some of that excess liquid. (You can also dry it out in the fridge.) We’re not trying to make soggy blintzes. That’s what Big Kosher wants us to do.

[It’s important, here that we’re pronouncing ricotta “ree-coatt-ah.” It enhances the taste, I guarantee it. Make sure to get that double ‘t’ sound.]

When the ricotta is ready and at room temperature, combine the filling ingredients in a separate bowl and blend until smooth. You should have a nice, heavy whip going.

Okay, now you’re ready to make the crepes!

Heat a non-stick crepe pan or 8 inch skillet.  Grab that stick o’ butter and slather the pan with it. The pan should froth about it as you are merely teasing the main event. So, deep breath at this point. Next is the part where you showcase your elegance and prove your worth as a chef: pour about a quarter-cup of batter into the frying pan as you tilt the pan to spread the batter thin. You’re making broad, thin circles here, about seven or eight inches in diameter.

It should cook in a flash — no more than twenty seconds on each side if your pan is hot enough. Throw it on a plate to cool and repeat. Make a bunch of these and kill the batter, unless you wisely doubled the recipe for later, in which case kill half of it.

All set? Now take the action to the countertop. Spread a crepe out onto a flat surface (cutting board is fine), and drop a couple of tablespoons’ worth of filling into the bottom third of the crepe. Don’t worry about spreading it out—it’s easier to roll up into a lil’ burrito this way. Roll the bottom flap over the filling and tuck it under, then fold over the side leaves, then roll the whole thing forward like a sleeping bag. Honestly, just make a lil’ burrito. Repeat until all the crepes are filled.

Now heat up that pan and smother it with butter again. (Hey, diets don’t count on chag!) Throw your Hungarian blintzes on there 2-3 at a time and cook on each side until golden. Then you’re done.

Oh yeah! Blueberry sauce: take all those blueberries, throw them in a pot, and throw some sugar on top of it, and then just cook it until you get this oozing pot of succulence that looks like it does on the frozen box of Streit’s blintzes. That takes like 10 minutes? Tops.

I have no idea how many this makes because I eat them as I go. Rob, whose recipe this is, says it’s good for about a dozen. Happy Shavuot!

Edited to add: this recipe makes about eight blintzes.

Amelia Saltsman’s silan recipe for Shavuot


Results will vary depending on how dry the dates are and the variety used. Unfortunately, deglet noor dates, the most commonly available variety, produce beet-red silan and honey dates turn purple when cooked. You can halve the amount of dates and cut your prep time, but I don’t recommend multiplying the amount unless you’ve got extra hands to help.

– 2 pounds dates, such as barhi, medjool or khadrawy
– Water

Soak: Place dates in a large bowl. Add water to the bowl to cover dates by one inch, about 6 cups for 2 pounds of dates. Cover bowl and set aside, away from direct sunlight, to soak at least 4 hours or overnight.

Cook: Lift dates out of soaking liquid and shred them with your fingers. Place them, along with the pits, into a wide pot. Stir in 4 cups fresh water. Bring to gentle boil, uncovered, over medium heat, about 10 minutes. At this point, the tan-colored mixture will start to thicken. Skim off any scum that rises to the top. Reduce heat to medium-low and cook, stirring occasionally, until most of the liquid has been absorbed and the date mixture has reduced by about one-third, is shiny, thick and jamlike, and its color has deepened to a medium brown, about 50 minutes longer. As the mixture thickens, after about 40 minutes, stir more frequently to prevent sticking. Remove date mixture from heat and cool.

Extract: Place a strainer over a large bowl and place a nut-milk or jelly bag in the strainer. Transfer some of the cooked date mixture into the bag. Drain date “juice” into the bowl, wringing the bag to extract all liquids from the date solids. Discard solids and repeat with remaining dates, working in batches. You’ll have about 4 cups of bland “date juice.”

Reduce: Place date juice and 1/2 cup fresh water in a medium pot. Starting over medium heat, bring to a good simmer; reduce heat as needed to keep liquid at a simmer. Cook, stirring occasionally, until reduced by more than half to a deep brown rich-tasting syrup the consistency of honey, about 1 hour, stirring more frequently to prevent scorching as the syrup thickens. The silan is ready if it stays parted briefly when you run a spatula through the pot. (If it has thickened too much, turning almost taffy-like, stir in 1/4 cup water, and cook briefly.) Turn off the heat. The silan will continue to thicken as it cools.

Pour into clean jars, cover tightly, and store at room temperature away from sunlight. The silan will keep at least 4 to 6 weeks, although complex flavors may flatten over time and sugars crystalize. Heat silan briefly to dissolve crystals.

Makes about 2 cups silan.


Toasted nut and silan squares

These chewy bar cookies taste better the day after they’re baked and keep well for several days.

– 1 cup walnuts or pecans
– 1/2 cup whole wheat flour
– 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
– 1/2 cup (1 stick) cold butter, cut into 1/4- to 1/2 -inch pieces, plus 2 tablespoons butter, cut into small pieces
– 3 tablespoons sugar
– 1/4 tsp salt
– 1/2 cup silan
– 1 tablespoon water
– 1 teaspoon lemon juice

Preheat oven to 350 F.

Place nuts on sheet pan and toast in oven until fragrant and lightly browned, 7 to 10 minutes. Set aside to cool.

Make the crust: In a mixing bowl, toss together the flours, 1 stick of butter, sugar and salt. Using your fingers or a pastry cutter, crumble the ingredients together to the texture of coarse cornmeal. Pour mixture into 8-inch-square pan and gently press evenly over bottom and partway up the sides of the pan, giving extra attention to where the bottom meets the side of the pan to keep thickness even. Bake until light golden, 20 to 25 minutes. Remove from oven and gently smooth the crust with the back of a soup spoon to seal any cracks, pushing gently along sides if crust has slumped during baking.

While the crust is baking, prepare filling. Place silan, remaining 2 tablespoons butter, water, lemon and pinch of salt into heatproof or microwavable bowl (I like to use a 1-quart glass liquid measuring cup). Heat in microwave just until butter melts, 30 to 45 seconds, or place bowl in a pot of simmering water just until butter melts. Stir to blend.

Chop nuts and stir them and any “nut dust” into silan mixture. Pour filling evenly over crust. Return pan to oven and bake until edges of crust are golden brown and filling is bubbling and thickened, about 20 minutes. Filling will continue to set as it cools. Cool several hours or overnight before cutting into squares. Store covered at room temperature up to four days and refrigerate up to six.

Makes 16 2-inch squares


Spicy Sweet Grilled Roots and Tubers With Silan, Harissa and Shanklish. Photo by Tess Cutler

Use a mix of sweet potatoes, carrots and beets, or all of one kind of vegetable. Served with freekeh or rice and lentils, this makes a hearty vegetarian main course. For a vegan version, substitute tahini sauce for the shanklish. Accompany with pickled peppers, okra or onions. Note: If using red beets, keep them separate during preparation to avoid staining the other vegetables.

– 3/4 pound sweet potatoes
– 3/4 pound large carrots
– 3/4 pound tennis-ball-size beets
– 1/2 cup healthy oil, such as olive, avocado or safflower
– 1/4 cup silan
– 2 heaping tablespoons harissa
– 2 teaspoons kosher or sea salt
– 2 cups labneh
– 2 cloves garlic
– 2 tablespoons za’atar spice blend
– 1/2 to 1 teaspoon Aleppo, Maras or Urfa pepper
– Chopped parsley, cilantro or thyme leaves, optional
– Cooked freekeh or other grain, optional

Scrub or peel carrots and cut on the diagonal into largest possible oval slices, 1/4- to 1/2-inch thick. Scrub sweet potatoes and cut lengthwise into 1/2-inch-thick wedges. Scrub beets and cut on diagonal into largest possible disks, 1/4- to 1/2-inch thick

Have a bowl filled with ice and water ready near the stove. Cook carrots in generously salted boiling water until their color brightens and carrots are slightly flexible, 2 minutes. Lift carrots out with a spider or slotted spoon and drop into the ice water bath to stop the cooking process and preserve color. Repeat with the sweet potato wedges. Lift carrots and potatoes out of ice bath and drain on cloth or paper towels. Repeat blanching process with beets and place on separate towel. Pat vegetables dry. Vegetables may be prepared a day ahead to this point and refrigerated covered.

Prepare the shanklish. Crush garlic through a press into the labneh and add za’atar and Aleppo pepper to taste. Stir vigorously to blend. Labneh may be prepared a day ahead and refrigerated.

Heat a gas or charcoal grill to medium. Place oil, silan, harissa and salt in a microwavable or heatproof bowl. Heat briefly in microwave oven or place bowl in a pot of simmering water to soften ingredients. Whisk to blend.

Toss silan mixture with vegetables to coat generously (toss red beets separately to prevent staining the other vegetables). Grill vegetables, reserving silan mixture, until nicely scored and tender, 4 to 6 minutes per side. Adjust heat or move vegetables to cooler part of grill as needed to avoid burning. As vegetables are done, return them to the remaining silan mixture and toss to coat.

Arrange vegetables on a platter, top with chopped herbs, if desired, and accompany with the shanklish. Vegetables may be grilled several hours ahead and served at room temperature. Serve warm or at room temperature and accompany with freekeh, if desired.

Makes 6 to 8 servings.

In the land of milk and silan

Amelia Saltsman's silan. Photo by Tess Cutler

The Bible drips with mentions of honey. There’s the Promised Land flowing with milk and honey; its symbolic use at Rosh Hashanah for a sweet new year; and at Shavuot, coming next week, to represent the sweetness of the gift of the Torah. And then there are those sensual lines in The Song of Songs: “Sweetness drops from your lips, O bride; honey and milk are under your tongue.”

But what sort of honey? Historians now believe that most biblical mentions of honey refer not to the golden nectar produced by bees, but to a syrup prepared from dates. This makes sense. Reducing bushels of dates — one of the revered seven biblical species — into amphorae of “honey” turns out to be a perfect preservation method. Not to mention, those long-lasting jars of the region’s first sweetener were immensely portable just in case of an expulsion, say, to Babylon.

[Recipe: Silan recipe for Shavuot]

Creating date honey, dibs in Arabic (also translated into English as date molasses or syrup), was, and is, a processing technique common to all date-growing regions of the Middle East and North Africa. For Jews, the culinary tradition is most associated with the Jews of Iraq (ah, Babylon), who spoke Judeo-Arabic. They called it silan, the term adopted into modern Hebrew.

According to Jewish food scholar Gil Marks, Iraqi silan-based charoset, halek in Judeo-Arabic, is the original “mortar,” a logical deduction, given the abundance of dates in early Jewish civilizations and the absence of apples. (The Ashkenazi apple-based version is a mere thousand or so years old.) Traditionally, silan was made once a year after the date harvest in early fall, giving dates and date honey first-fruit status at Rosh Hashanah.

Over the millennia, silan has never been out of production, whether at home or in date-syrup manufactories. (Date presses were found in the ruins at Qumran and elsewhere; modern Israeli commercial production didn’t begin until the early 1980s). The sweetener always has been highly regarded by locals for its antibacterial and antioxidant properties and thought to aid a variety of conditions, including lowering blood pressure and enhancing sexual prowess.

With today’s growing interest in Middle Eastern cuisines, silan is having a well-deserved moment. The ancient recipe is pretty much the same one used today: one ingredient plus water subjected to four basic techniques in sequence — soaking, cooking, extracting and reducing — that require no kitchen inventions beyond fire. The result is something of a miracle: silky smooth, rich brown that glows auburn when the light catches it, and complex notes of deep caramel, citrus and even coffee revealed through long, slow cooking. And, once upon a time I imagine, there were hints of smoke as the date extract slowly reduced over live embers.

I wanted in. I needed to join the ancient lineage of cooks in a process little changed by modern technology. My fascination with silan began with my paternal grandmother, Rachel Yochanan Ben-Aziz, who came from many generations in Iraq before she, my grandfather Ezekiel, and six of their seven children, among them my father, immigrated to the British Mandate of Palestine in the early 1930s. Although I learned a lot about Iraqi cooking from Safta Rachel during our visits to Israel and hers to us in Los Angeles, I somehow missed the bit about silan until after she had died.

A few years ago, my cousin told me about our safta’s delicious silan-and-toasted-pecan charoset. I immediately added it to our Passover traditions, using ready-made syrup I bought at the Iranian market in my neighborhood. Then, one day, my Aunt Hanna let slip that safta used to make her own silan. Wait, what?!?

I had little to go on. From Hanna, I knew only that my grandmother had soaked a lot of dates in water and enlisted her nephews to vigorously wring, that is, extract, the “juice.” Initial research in cookbooks and online didn’t offer much more. In fact, I discovered some pretty wild attempts to re-create silan, including the addition of copious amounts of sugar. This would have been unlikely in the original process, since, at 60- to 80-percent sugar, dates were the regional source for sugar production, not sugar cane or beets. And besides, how would my grandmother have had access to all that sugar in those early lean years in Israel? My guess is that the use of cane sugar is a modern shortcut to thick syrup, and that the missing ingredients lost through the years were a couple of steps plus time and patience.

But, the misguided sugar shortcut offers clues. Because date solids are very dense, water must be introduced to release the sugar, resulting in diluted flavor. A second step was needed — cooking the soaked pulp — to begin reconcentrating the sugars and start caramelization.

Then, using what I know about making clear caramel syrup by slowly heating, melting and reducing cane sugar with a little water to keep it liquified, I applied those principles to Safta Rachel’s extracted “date juice.” That was it; a slow reduction was the fourth and final step to gorgeous silan.

So, not exactly a recipe. Just four rudimentary techniques that ask a cook to slow down, pay attention and develop a feel for the process. Making silan never ceases to surprise me. I’ve learned something new with every batch I’ve made these past few months. I suspect it will always be thus. Perhaps by the time I will have been at it as long as my grandmother was, I’ll be OK with that.

Amelia Saltsman

Here’s what you need to know about making silan at home. It requires a lot of dates. Two pounds net a scant two cups of syrup, which is actually an ample amount of honey. Any number of date varieties will work, such as barhi, medjool, halawy or khadrawy. Each imparts its own color and flavor characteristics to the finished silan, and each particular batch of dates affects the cooking time and final yield, depending on how fibrous or dried it is. Avoid the deglet noor variety, the most commonly available cultivar; it changes color when exposed to heat and yields beet-red silan. And the honey date variety, I learned from Chef Jeremy Fox, turns purple when cooked.

Start soaking the dates the night before you want to make silan, and figure on a half day of intermittent work to finish. There’s not a lot of active work other than the extraction step; plan on puttering around the house as the dates cook, cool and reduce in turn.

Invest in a nut-milk bag to simplify the extraction step, but don’t bother to spend money on pitted dates or take time to pit them, since you’ll discard all the date solids anyway. The uncracked pits may even add flavor — there’s a traditional date-pit coffee substitute made from roasted and ground seeds.

The syrup is rather forgiving. If you’ve reduced it too far and it’s turning into taffy, stir in a little water and cook briefly to restore. After you pour the finished silan into jars, deglaze the pot with water for a small, second round of thin silan that is the cook’s reward.

And here’s what you should do with silan. Drizzle over almond butter or tahini and toast for a breakfast of champions. Spoon over thick yogurt or vanilla ice cream and top with strawberries, bananas or orange segments, and chopped nuts (a little crumbled halvah couldn’t hurt). Use silan instead of molasses or brown sugar in pies and cookies. Mix it with harissa for a spicy-sweet mop for grilled vegetables. When served with shanklish — a Lebanese way with labneh with za’atar and garlic — and the green wheat known as freekeh — “new ears parched with fire” — this main dish becomes a Shavuot homage to both milk and honey and the spring wheat harvest we’ve been so anxiously awaiting.

Ready-Made Silan

Let’s get real. Silan is too wonderful and versatile to enjoy only when you have time to make your own. Ready-made silan is a fantastic convenience condiment to have in one’s pantry — if you buy a good-quality one. Now you know to look for those that contain dates and nothing else (some ingredient lists include water; some don’t). Various brands have long been available at Middle Eastern, Iranian and Israeli markets. Silan has gone mainstream enough to show up at Whole Foods and other high-end supermarkets; Date Lady, an American brand selling imported silan, is the most commonly found. My favorite commercial Israeli brand is Kinneret Farm, the country’s largest producer of high-quality silan. It is available online at and on Amazon. I haven’t yet found it on grocery shelves in the Los Angeles area.

Visiting Springfield, Illinois: The Land of Lincoln and other Americana

People have preconceived notions and prejudices that prevent them from seeing cool places and interesting things in life. I grew up in Illinois. Back in the day, at least, all the public schools brought their students around 8th grade to Springfield, Illinois – the place where Abraham Lincoln lived in the only home he ever bought, practiced law, ran for office and eventually was buried. But I went to a private school that was more concerned with us reciting La Marseilles in perfect French, than seeing a Presidential library and museum in our own state. Later, when I moved south of the Mason-Dixon Line, I saw many battlefields of the Civil War. They’re extremely popular. But for some reason, people don’t talk about visiting Springfield . . . and they’re really missing out.

Getting there: I took a very modestly priced Amtrak from Chicago’s Union Station. Chicago is a big train hub, so you’re likely to be at the beginning of a long haul trip, with classic sleeper cars, full service dining cars with freshly made food, observation decks, ladies’ lounges. Along the way, you see what others ignorantly refer to as “flyover country,” including the funny stadium for the Frontier League Joliet Slammers. Another way you can go: drive or ride. The famous Route 66 goes right through the center of town.

Where to stay: High atop “Aristocracy Hill” sits an inn — Inn at 835 — that used to serve as apartments for movers and shakers and indeed, still features long-term residences for them. After all, Springfield is Illinois’ capital; legislators from here have gone far up the political ladder. The place was conceived and designed over 100 years ago by a high-society florist. It’s still very grand! Rooms are very spacious, some with a butler’s pantry filled with books, Jacuzzi with heat lamp, four-poster bed, gorgeous antiques. Wine and cheese is left out for guests downstairs, but they bring cookies in a basket to your door at night. They provide a free shuttle from the Amtrak station until 8:30 pm.

What to do: See how Lincoln and his family actually lived at the Lincoln Home, a national historic site. He expanded the premises as his success and prosperity grew. The Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum is simply outstanding! I started out at its fantastic gift shop. The museum’s permanent exhibit takes you through life-sized recreations of his log cabin home, his law office, and political ascent. Walk through the whispering gallery of political sniping from both ends of the spectrum – just like elections today! – and nasty gossip against Mary Todd Lincoln. Feel yourself attending the play at Ford’s Theater. We all know how it ends . . . but I wasn’t prepared for the stunning majesty of the darkened recreation of the closed casket in the Representatives Hall in Springfield’s Old State Capitol. Today, we are reminded that Lincoln’s catafalque was lent by Congress for Justice Scalia’s funeral.

Of course, there’s no substitute for the real thing. President Lincoln is buried at Oak Ridge Cemetery. Also in town is his law office, which had a business-friendly location by the courthouse and right on what is now Route 66.

Edwards Place is the oldest remaining structure in Springfield. The Edwards were Illinois’ most powerful political family, with one serving as the first Governor when Illinois became a state after serving as Kentucky’s Chief Justice on the Court of Appeals. Illinois was originally settled mostly by Kentuckians and this family crossed the Ohio River with their slaves. Another Edwards was the first person born in Illinois to graduate from Yale. Their home is beautifully restored, with many interesting archeological finds.

Art and architecture enthusiasts will be fascinated with the Dana-Thomas house, an early example of Frank Lloyd Wright’s design. At the time, Wright was young and not as well known enough to totally impose his will upon homeowners, but he managed to ink some covenants. The lady of the house had enough money and social clout to include some of her Art Nouveau era preferences, so the fusion here is one-of-a-kind.

Springfield has a cute, thriving main street. There are several quality antique stores; Abe’s Old Hat has several rooms, each with its own specialty and vibe. Check out such Americana finds like feed sacks upcycled into men’s ties and cornbread scented candles.

A small town has got to consider itself sweet with two independently owned candy stores, both with Depression-era origins. Pease’s is older by a tad; their specialty is chocolates made to look like actual designer shoes! Del’s Popcorn Shop is now located next to the Lincoln-Herndon law office, with a real old-timey feel inside. They have all kinds of flavors of freshly popped corn, which feels like the perfect snack to crunch on in Illinois, plus it makes an inexpensive souvenir gift.

Where to eat: Obed & Isaac’s Microbrewery & Eatery is located in a rehabbed historic home, owned by direct descendants of neighbors of Abraham Lincoln. They brew the freshest beer in town and also have excellent locally made, fruit forward cider. Their growlers are so cute, with tributes to Lincoln and Route 66, I happily paid for plastic boxes and checked luggage to bring some cider home. They’ve got a real gastropub thing going, with highly flavorful offerings like spicy cheesy soup, an old family recipe for 15 spice chili and Scotch eggs.

D’Arcy’s Pint is an Irish pub that’s enormously popular. They serve bar food as well as the famous Springfield Horseshoe. Lots of cities have a beloved big sandwich, this is theirs. It’s generally slices of thick Texas toast, topped with meat, French fries and cheese sauce. You can get veggies or hotdogs on it . . . even Midwestern walleye!

American Harvest Eatery is a new restaurant little bit up the road from the state capital building, so it’s not quite run over by lobbyists yet. While still finding its footing when I was there, they have an admirable concept: using the foodstuffs of Illinois to re-create comfort food favorites.

I saw a Quonset in the middle of nowhere and wondered how it could be a restaurant. Well, Charlie Parker’s Diner is world-famous and has been featured on the Food Network many times! It’s a fun, 50’s party atmosphere with that kind of classic menu.

Anecdotally, I wondered in the land of farms if things like heirloom tomatoes, etc., were popular. It turns out, not so much: commercial agriculture earnings are so crucial, people aren’t playing around with specialized, small-yield crops here.

Abraham and Mary Todd Lincoln life-like figures at the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum Photo by Tamar Alexia Fleishman, Esq.

Figures of the famous Lincoln-Douglas debate at the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum Photo by Tamar Alexia Fleishman, Esq.

Recreation of the scene at Ford’s Theater at the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum Photo by Tamar Alexia Fleishman, Esq.

President Abraham Lincoln’s tomb Photo by Tamar Alexia Fleishman, Esq.


Danny Corsun cooks up holiday food for thought

Danny Corsun (right) leads a pre-Passover cooking class for the Cool Shul community on a recent weekend morning in Marina del Rey. Photo by Josh Marks

The aromas of flour, olive oil, apples, basil, pomegranates and sun-dried tomatoes filled the kitchen as modern-day Jews, young and old, made matzo just as their ancient Israelite ancestors did in their haste out of Egypt on their journey to the Promised Land.

Members of Cool Shul, a Westside synagogue associated with the Jewish Universalism movement, participated in a recent pre-Passover cooking class in a private home in Marina del Rey, led by chef Danny Corsun from Culinary Kids Academy. In addition to matzo, the group of about 25 helped Corsun put together charoset and pesto.

“Somehow, some way, we can look at what we are being given in the Torah and use it as a guide on how to live our own lives,” Corsun explained before inviting the class to chop apples and knead dough. “So, what we do at Culinary Kids is, we take things that happened 3,500 years ago and show you that, actually, you can use this stuff today in 2017.”

Experiencing the biblical Exodus by making matzo is an example of how Culinary Kids and Cool Shul are creating a hands-on form of Judaism, what Corsun calls an attempt at making it personal.

“It’s a way for them to be involved in their Judaism where they’re not just sitting in front of a book or sitting in the sanctuary,” said Helen Nightengale, board president at Cool Shul.

Cool Shul has worked with Corsun before other holidays to use food as a teaching tool. Rabbi and Cantor Diane Rose, spiritual leader at Cool Shul, worked with Corsun during her previous stint at Beth Shir Shalom, a Reform synagogue in Santa Monica.

“We take things that happened 3,500 years ago and show you that, actually, you can do this stuff today in 2017.” — Danny Corsun, Culinary Kids Academy

“He’s the perfect way to do experiential education,” Rose said of Corsun’s cooking class. “Historically, he’s always done it with us with the kids, but there’s no reason why all the adults don’t need experiential Jewish education, as well, so it’s a really good partnership. All those adults signed up to come learn how to make matzo — it’s a Cool Shul family educational event.”

As the class began, children and adults gathered around Corsun as he demonstrated how to make matzo — take the flour; make a hole in the middle and add salt, olive oil and water; put the dough together; flatten the dough with a rolling pin; put it in a pan; stretch it, making it as flat as possible so it comes out thin and crispy; blast in a 500-degree oven for 18 minutes.

“We’re going to talk about a story today while the matzo is baking, but it’s about actually taking ownership,” Corsun said. “What we’re trying to do is make Judaism personal. I’m no longer doing it because my mother told me to. I’m no longer doing it because the rabbi tells me to. I’m doing it because I’m getting something out of it. This is actually informing my decisions on how I’m forming my life.” n

A taste of Black history and a side of Jewish culture

Michael Twitty eats olives in Machane Yehudah market in Jerusalem. Photo by Jacob W. Dillow

As an African-American Jew by choice, the esteemed author and culinary historian Michael Twitty considers Passover his favorite Jewish holiday. 

“Nothing pulls more at my heart than the songs and traditions and recipes … of the world’s oldest Emancipation ritual,” Twitty wrote on his blog, Afroculinaria. “There is also no other holiday where I feel more whole as an African-American who happens to be Jewish, thanks to the shared history of slavery leading to redemption and freedom.”

In two separate events at the Skirball Cultural Center on April 13, Twitty will share his life’s journey as well as Passover recipes that draw on his penchant for what he calls “kosher/soul.”

“It’s taking the foods of African and Jewish diasporic people and blending them together,” Twitty, 40, who lives outside of Washington, D.C., said during a recent telephone interview.

At the Skirball, he’ll whip up his West African brisket, seasoned with spices including ground ginger, paprika, cinnamon, chili powder and cayenne, then seared in olive oil before being baked atop sautéed onions.

For the seder, his hard boiled eggs are cooked in water steeped in hibiscus, accompanied by a salt water brine spiked with a touch of lavender and preserved lemon.

During seders past, Twitty has served sweet potato kugel, matzo-meal fried chicken, and an apple-rhubarb charoset.

He follows the Sephardic custom of eating legumes and rice during Passover, the latter a Carolina Gold version originally brought to the United States by enslaved Africans.

His Pesach table is graced with two distinct seder plates: one a traditional Ashkenazi version, the other influenced by African and African-American cuisine.  There is a collard green for the bitter herb maror, for example, as well as a molasses and pecan charoset.

Twitty noted that Passover often comes in April, which is the same month in 1865 that his enslaved forebears were freed after the Civil War. 

In Alabama, a great-great-grandmother was “liberated on that day from her particular labor camp called a plantation,” Twitty said.  A great-great-great-grandfather, Edward, born in 1839, had toiled on a tobacco plantation in Virginia. “One day my ancestor was hot, so he knelt by a creek and splashed some water on himself.  That’s when my Daddy saw the whip marks on his back,” Twitty said.

“For me, being Black was a great preparation for becoming Jewish,” Twitty added.  “When you are African-American, your antennae [for sensing trouble] are planted deep inside your skull.  It’s learning how to recognize and process prejudice.”

Twitty grew up in a nominally Christian home in the suburbs of Washington, D.C., where his grandparents had fled Southern racism during the Great Migration north almost a century ago.  “I didn’t like soul food, and I didn’t like being Black,” Twitty said in a 2016 TED talk of his early years.

But he slowly learned to appreciate his heritage, even as he was drawn to Judaism, first after watching the film adaptation of Chaim Potok’s novel “The Chosen” when he was 7. He promptly told his mother that he wanted to be Jewish, yet he was taken aback when she informed him that conversion would require him to have a second circumcision.

Even so, his interest in Judaism persisted, and Twitty continued to fall in love with the culture, especially through food, while hanging out with his Jewish friends’ grandmothers in the kitchen.

Years later, Twitty’s uncle, an avid genealogist, found that their family tree included distant relatives who were Jewish. A recent medical test revealed that Twitty’s own DNA features some Ukrainian Ashkenazi ancestry.

While researching Jewish cuisine for a festival in 2000 sponsored by the Smithsonian, Twitty learned to make challah from the prominent Jewish chef Joan Nathan. When he dropped by a Sephardic Orthodox synagogue in Maryland, in part to obtain recipes from the rebbitzen, a caterer, Twitty discovered a spiritual home. He converted to Judaism in an Orthodox ceremony in 2002 while he was in his early 20s.

Of why he was drawn to Judaism, Twitty said, “It’s a very realistic [spiritual] path. The Hebrew word for worship is ‘avodah,’ which is the same word for work. And prayer is actually ‘tefillah,’ which comes from the word ‘L’Hitpalel’ – to turn inside and examine yourself. It’s also a very humorous religion, where laughing at yourself is almost a 614th mitzvah,” he said, a reference to the 613 in the Torah. “Black culture,” he added, “also relies a lot on humor as a means of survival.”

As Twitty began teaching Jewish studies around Washington, however, not everyone in the community was welcoming. One fellow educator accused him of teaching his students to steal. Others told him he might be religiously Jewish, but could never be culturally Jewish.

“People often want to put me in a box,” he added of his diverse identities, which include his being gay. “But I try to be as unboxable as possible.”

Twitty’s work as a culinary historian includes research on how slaves helped to create Southern cuisine, as well as extensive interviews with Southern Jews about how their traditional recipes changed after their families settled down South (think gumbo and matzo ball soup).

A turning point for Twitty came in 2011, when he read a book, “In Memory’s Kitchen: A Legacy From the Women of Terezin,” filled with family recipes that had been written down by prisoners of the concentration camp. In doing so, the women were performing an act of defiance, preserving their heritage even while suffering.

“It dawned on me that the same thing could and should be done with the African-American connection to slavery: how we should connect to our food roots and use that as a means of preservation of our heritage and resistance against the narrative that says we should forget,” he said.

Twitty thereafter embarked upon what he tartly describes as his “Southern Discomfort Tour” to research his upcoming book, “The Cooking Gene: A Journey Through African-American Culinary History in the Old South,” due in stores in August. The book describes his odyssey retracing his African ancestors’ cuisine, including how he prepared food as slaves once did, on historic plantations and dressed in period garb; how he shared meals with both African-Americans and descendants of his family’s former slave masters; and how he taught kosher soul cooking classes at an Alabama synagogue.

Preparing historically accurate dishes on the very plantations where his ancestors had labored is another act of defiance, Twitty said.

“I wanted to reclaim those spaces for the people who were victimized and hurt there,” he said. That’s also why he believes that Auschwitz might be a good place to celebrate a bar mitzvah. “I want to look into the faces of those who would destroy, oppress, minimize and erase us and go, ‘You didn’t vaporize us — sorry,’ ” he said.

Twitty’s goal is to seek what he calls “culinary justice” for African-Americans, whose food was appropriated by white Southerners who refused to acknowledge its origin. “It’s [in part] about honoring the source,” he said. “Some [white] people who are on top may feel they have a certain amount of privilege and power, so they can freely access [African-American] culture. It’s not borrowing, it’s not quoting; it’s taking without giving credit. It’s theft and exploitation.”

Part of Twitty’s inspiration comes from the Reform, Reconstructionist and Jewish Renewal rabbis he’s known who are dedicated to social causes. “Culinary justice is a very Jewish concept to me,” he said.


This is a blend of old school, antebellum recipes with my own special kosher/soul touch.

– 1 teaspoon kosher salt
– 2 teaspoons Bell’s Poultry Seasoning
– 2 teaspoons coarse ground black pepper
– 1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
– 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
– 1 teaspoon (sweet) paprika
– 1/4 teaspoon allspice
– 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
– 2 kosher chickens, preferably fryers, cut into breast, wing, leg and thigh portions
– 4 eggs
– 3 cups matzo meal
– 3 cups per whole chicken kosher-for-Passover cooking oil or, if you are Sephardic like me, vegetable oil mixed with Crisco

Combine the salt and seasonings together in a bowl.

Wash chicken and pat dry. Season the chicken with the spice mixture and set aside for a few hours in the refrigerator.

Prepare the egg wash by beating eggs with a fork and mixing with a little water. Then prepare your station: The egg wash should be in a shallow dish and the matzo meal should be in a separate shallow dish.

Brush the chicken with the egg wash, then cover in matzo meal. Place the coated chicken pieces on a rack over a cookie sheet in the refrigerator to set. This will help keep the coating on. The chicken can sit for up to 30 minutes.

Heat the cooking oil in a frying pan until hot but not smoking, about 325 degrees or so. Follow the rules of frying chicken: Ease the pieces into the frying pan or Dutch oven. Do not crowd the pan. Remember dark pieces take a bit longer to achieve doneness. Seasoning the coating is a no-no because some herbs and spices will burn in the coating. Adding more chicken will cool the oil, so adjust accordingly.

Fry around 8 minutes each side and turn to brown all around another 4 minutes per piece. Use your best judgment — crispy and golden brown on the outside doesn’t mean done on the inside. To test, you should aim for 160 degrees or above for white meat and 175 degrees or above for dark meat. The appearance of the chicken and the doneness of the meat inside are the two factors you have to balance when frying chicken. There is no exact formula, so have oil and meat thermometers handy, and use your eyes, ears and nose to do the rest of the work. Use tongs, not a fork, to deal with the chicken.

When the pieces are done, transfer them to a clean rack over paper towels on a cookie sheet. Want to get rid of more oil? After 5 minutes, transfer to a plate or basket or bowl with paper towels, just don’t do this when they come out of the pan fresh it will affect the crust.

Makes 8 servings.


For more information about Michael Twitty’s appearances at the Skirball Cultural Center on April 13, visit

Recipes: Around the world on a magic charoset ride

The holiday of Passover, which celebrates the liberation of the Jews from slavery, is a time when families all over the world gather to retell the story of freedom. Customs vary, but during the Passover seder, certain ceremonial foods always are served.

One of the mainstays of the seder plate is charoset, usually a mixture of fruit, nuts, wine and spices. This mixture is chopped and ground together to resemble the mortar that was used by the Jews when they were slaves in Egypt. 

Depending on the ingredients available, it is prepared differently in Jewish communities all over the world. Many people are familiar with the central European version, which consists of apples, walnuts, raisins, cinnamon and wine. Israeli charoset, on the other hand, may include peanuts, bananas, apples, dates, wine and a little matzo meal.

During a recent trip to Cuba, we discovered that because the country is so poor, fruit and nuts are not easily available, but the Cuban Jews have adapted by using a simple mixture of matzo and wine for their charoset. Yemenite charoset is made with dates and dried figs and is spiced with coriander and chilies.

Many years ago, we decided to prepare a variety of charoset for our evening seder, and it has since become a tradition. In order for our guests to know what they are tasting, we serve each kind on a plate with the flag of its country of origin. As part of the fun, we also invented a California charoset, an original family recipe that combines oranges, raisins, avocado and prunes.

At the end of the meal, we serve several types of charoset for dessert. I always make extra Yemenite charoset balls and dip them in melted chocolate as a special treat. They can be made ahead, arranged on plates, covered with plastic wrap and refrigerated until ready to serve. Just make sure to have a few extra for Elijah!


– 1 cup pitted dates, chopped
– 1/2 cup dried figs, chopped
– 1/3 cup sweet Passover wine
– 1 teaspoon ground ginger
– Pinch of coriander
– 1 small red chili pepper, seeded and minced, or pinch of cayenne
– 2 tablespoons matzo meal
– 3 tablespoons sesame seeds

In a large bowl, combine the dates, figs and wine. Add the ginger, coriander, minced red chili pepper and matzo meal and blend thoroughly. Add sesame seeds and roll into 1-inch balls.

Makes about 1 1/2 cups or 20 balls.


– 2 cups pitted dates
– 1/2 cup raisins
– 1/2 cup sweet Passover wine
– 1 cup walnuts, ground
– 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger

Place the dates and raisins in a bowl and blend with the wine. Add the walnuts and ginger and blend well. Shape into a pyramid.
Makes 2 1/2 to 3 cups.


– 1/2 cup dried apricots
– 2 cups apples, peeled, cored and sliced
– 1/2 cup pitted dates
– Juice of 1 lemon
– 1 cup walnuts, chopped

In a small saucepan, combine the apricots, apples, dates, lemon juice and enough water to cover the mixture. Cook until tender, about 10 to 15 minutes. Drain and mash with a fork, blending thoroughly. Mix in the walnuts. Spoon into a serving bowl or roll into balls.

Makes about 2 cups or 24 balls.


– 2 apples, unpeeled, cored and finely chopped
– 1 cup walnuts, finely chopped
– 2 tablespoons honey
– 1 teaspoon cinnamon
– 1/4 cup sweet Passover wine

Combine the apples, walnuts, honey and cinnamon in a bowl and mix well. Add enough wine to bind the mixture. Serve in a bowl or roll into 1-inch balls and arrange on a serving plate.

Makes about 2 1/2 cups or about 20 balls.


– 2 apples, peeled, cored and chopped
– 2 bananas, chopped
– Juice and zest of 1/2 lemon
– Juice and zest of 1/2 orange
– 15 dates, pitted and chopped
– 1/2 cup peanuts or pistachio nuts, ground
– 1 teaspoon cinnamon
– 1/4 cup sweet Passover wine
– 5 tablespoons matzo meal

In a large bowl, combine the apples, bananas, lemon and orange juice and zests, dates and peanuts and mix well. Add the cinnamon, wine and matzo meal and blend thoroughly.

Makes 3 1/2 cups.


– 1 large avocado, peeled, pit removed and diced
– Juice of 1/2 lemon
– 1/2 cup sliced almonds
– 1/3 cup raisins
– 4 seedless dates
– 2 figs or prunes
– 1 whole orange, zest and sections
– 2 tablespoons apple juice
– 2 tablespoons matzo meal

Toss the avocado and lemon juice in a bowl; set aside.

In a processor or blender, place the almonds, raisins, dates and figs. Process until coarsely chopped. Add the orange zest and orange sections and process briefly to combine. Add the avocado and process 1 or 2 seconds more. Transfer the mixture to a glass bowl and gently fold in the apple juice and matzo meal. Cover with plastic wrap and store in the refrigerator.

Makes about 3 cups.

(Island of Rhodes)

– 1/2 cup dates, pitted
– 2 cups apples, peeled, cored and thinly sliced
– 1/2 cup dried apricots
– 1/2 cup walnuts, chopped

In medium saucepan, combine the dates, apples and dried apricots. Add enough water to cover. Over high heat, bring the mixture to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer until the mixture is tender enough to mash with a fork. Place the mixture in a processor and process, turning on and off the processor until the mixture is blended. Do not puree. Just before serving, fold in the walnuts.

Makes about 2 1/2 cups.


– 2 apples, unpeeled, cored and coarsely chopped
– 6 dates, finely chopped
– 1 hard-boiled egg, finely chopped
– 1/2 cup almonds, finely chopped
– 1/4 cup walnuts, finely chopped
– 1/4 cup raisins, finely chopped
– Juice of 1 lemon
– 1 to 2 tablespoons matzo meal

In a large bowl, combine the apples, dates, egg, almonds, walnuts and raisins and blend thoroughly. Add the lemon juice and enough matzo meal to bind the mixture. Mound the charoset in a bowl or roll it into 1-inch balls and arrange on a plate.

Makes about 2 1/2 cups or 20 balls.


– 1 pear, unpeeled, cored and finely chopped
– 1 apple, unpeeled, cored and finely chopped
– 1 cup walnuts, finely chopped
– 1 cup almonds, finely chopped
– 1 cup hazelnuts, finely chopped
– 1 cup pistachio nuts, finely chopped
– 1 cup dates, chopped
– 1 cup raisins, chopped
– 2 teaspoons ground ginger
– 2 teaspoons cinnamon
– 2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
– 1 to 2 tablespoons sweet Passover wine

In a large bowl, combine the pear, apple, walnuts, almonds, hazelnuts, pistachio nuts, dates and raisins. Mix well. Add the ginger, cinnamon, vinegar and enough wine to bind the mixture. Transfer to a platter, shape into a pyramid, cover with plastic wrap and chill well.

Makes 5 cups

JUDY ZEIDLER is a food consultant, cooking teacher and author of 10 cookbooks, including “Italy Cooks” (Mostarda Press, 2011). Her website is