Sybil Kaplan – Page 7

The great matzah ball debate

What food eaten during Pesach causes the most debates? If you guessed matzah balls, you’re right. Should they be hard or light? Big or small? What secret ingredient should be added to them?

From where did matzah balls, or kneidlach, originate? German Jews had a dumpling that they put into their soup called knodel. From this came the Yiddish term kneydl, singular, or kneydlach, in the plural. In Czech, it is known as knedliky. Dumplings have been in Central European cookery since the Middle Ages and then they came to Germany and Eastern Europe later.

So, just how many ways are there to make matzah balls?

Joan Nathan, a friend of mine, who has written a number of cookbooks and is considered a maven of American Jewish cooking, proposes adding chicken fat or vegetable oil plus seltzer, club soda or chicken broth, to make them light and airy. In Jewish Cooking in America, she also relates that some matzah balls, originating in Lithuania, use chicken fat or vegetable shortening and contain a filling made of onion, oil or chicken fat, matzah meal, egg yolk, salt, pepper and cinnamon. The filling is then placed in the middle of the matzah ball before they are cooked in salt water. After cooking in salt water, they are baked 30 minutes then placed in the soup for serving. Joan also has a recipe for matzah balls made in the southern United States, using pecans. In my research, I discovered that some Louisiana Jews add green onions and cayenne pepper.

In her cookbook Quiches, Kugels and Couscous: My Search for Jewish Cooking in France, Joan explains that, in France, matzah balls are called boulettes de paque, krepfle or kneipflich. They are the size of walnuts and not fluffy. They are made from stale bread or matzah soaked in water and dried, and they contain rendered goose fat, vegetable oil or beef marrow, eggs, water or chicken broth, matzah meal, salt, pepper, ginger and nutmeg.

In The New York Times Passover Cookbook, edited by Linda Amster, among the recipes for matzah balls is one by Mimi Sheraton, Times food critic at the time, who used chicken fat and cold water. Another is from Joan’s cookbook Jewish Holiday Kitchen, and she uses ginger and nutmeg. The winning recipe for the first Matzah Bowl contest in New York at the time the Times cookbook was published used vodka and club soda. A low-fat, low-salt version is made with egg whites and vegetable oil. Another style, which is airy, is made with beef marrow, instead of chicken fat, plus nutmeg.

Refrigeration and the temperature of the liquid seem to be key common denominators in many recipes.

Nina Rousso, an Israeli, in her book The Passover Gourmet, uses beaten egg yolks, lukewarm water, melted margarine, salt, parsley, matzah meal and stiffly beaten egg whites folded in. The mixture is refrigerated two hours before making.

In Passover Lite, Gail Ashkenazi-Hankin, an American, combines egg yolks, onion powder, salt, pepper, matzah meal, water and beaten egg whites and chills the mixture 30 minutes.

Zell Schulman, the American author of Let My People Eat, says the key to making light, melt-in-your-mouth, floating matzah balls is to beat egg whites until stiff then fold into the yolks with salt, pepper, cinnamon, matzah meal and optional parsley and refrigerate 15 minutes. A second version combines matzah meal with only the beaten egg whites until they hold peaks, plus parsley, cinnamon, grated carrot and oil, but no egg yolks.

Susan Friedland, the American author of The Passover Table, combines whole eggs with seltzer, salt, pepper, matzah meal and schmaltz, which she refrigerates for one hour. The schmaltz adds the flavour.

Marlene Sorosky, American author of Fast and Festive Meals for the Jewish Holidays, provides a recipe using ground almonds, ginger and chopped parsley. She chills the matzah balls for one hour.

Edda Servi Machlin, whose family has 2,000-year-old roots in Italy, says her family serves a mix between Italian Passover soup and Ashkenazi chicken soup. Her matzah balls are made of chopped chicken, egg, broth, olive oil, salt, pepper, nutmeg and matzah meal. The batter is refrigerated one hour before making.

Other Italian Jews, who call the matzah balls gnocchi di azzaima, add onions or mashed potatoes to the dough or grated lemon rind.

An aside: In 2001, Ariel Toaff, a professor at Bar-Ilan University, who is the son of Rome’s chief rabbi, came out with a book called Mangiare alla Giudia (Eating the Jewish Way). He devotes a chapter to Passover traditions, and writes that matzah was so popular that the Catholic authorities banned Jews from selling matzah to non-Jews and banned Christians from eating it.

Italian bakers also baked different kinds of matzah: plain for intermediate days, shmurah matzah for the sederim, and matzah made with white wine, eggs, sugar, anise and goose fat for those with more rich tastes.

Jews of Italy even developed sfoglietti or foglietti, a kosher-for-Passover pasta made with flour and eggs, which was then quickly dried and baked in a hot oven and served in soup or with a sauce.

Joyce Goldstein, an American fascinated by Italian Jewish cuisine, describes, in Cucina Ebraica, a combination of ground chicken, egg, matzah meal, salt, pepper and cinnamon, which she refrigerates before cooking in soup, but she does not say for how long.

Sonia Levy, a native of Zimbabwe, wrote a cookbook of her community, called Traditions. She describes luft kneidlach, light matzah balls, made with matzah meal, water, salt, nutmeg, cinnamon or ginger, eggs and oil. These must be refrigerated at least half a day. She adds that you can also make a pit with a finger and insert chopped meat that has been mixed with fried onions and spices. Another Zimbabwe version uses egg, cold water, chicken fat, salt, pepper, ginger and matzah meal.

Ruth Sirkis, an Israeli, in A Taste of Tradition, says “air” matzah balls have eggs, matzah meal, salt, chicken soup and chicken fat and are refrigerated two hours.

Another version, by Anya von Bemzen and John Welchman in Please to the Table: A Russian Cookbook, has walnut balls for soup, which are made by the Georgian Jews using ground walnuts, onion, egg, matzah meal, oregano, salt, pepper and a froth egg white.

A couple of last pieces of matzah ball trivia. In 2008, a New York kosher delicatessen held its annual matzah ball-eating competition to raise money for a shelter for the homeless. The winner ate 78 matzah balls in eight minutes. Although not in the Guinness Book of World Records, a few years ago, the largest matzah ball was measured at 17.75 inches across and weighed more than 33 pounds.

And, lastly, among some ultra-Orthodox Jews, matzah balls are not eaten because they expand when they cook, and they consider this reaction a form of leavening.

Regardless of the style of matzah balls you prefer, just make plenty for your guests!

Sybil Kaplan is a journalist, lecturer, book reviewer and food writer in Jerusalem. She created and leads the weekly English-language Shuk Walks in Machane Yehuda, she has compiled and edited nine kosher cookbooks, and is the author of Witness to History: Ten Years as a Woman Journalist in Israel.

Why Purim costumes?

Purim in Tel Aviv last year. (photo by Igor Zed)

What is the origin of wearing costumes on Purim? One theory relates to the fact that the Jews in the Purim story live in the galut (“exile,” outside of Israel). Haman says to the king: “There is a certain people scattered abroad and dispersed among the peoples in all the provinces of thy kingdom and their laws are diverse from those of every people; neither they keep the king’s laws.” One might say, these Jews in Shushan are the minority in a Christian country who disguise themselves or mask their identity by trying to dress like the majority and blend in.

Probably the closest explanation as to why we wear costumes is because Esther masqueraded as a non-Jew and dressed up as a queen. Esther also hid her assertiveness and her strength – and her Jewish identity – until she had no other choice. One source has said wearing costumes is to imitate the costume parties of the court mentioned in the story.

Another source says traditional Jews believe that G-d is hidden behind all the events of the Megillah. Although there is no mention of G-d in the Book of Esther, we believe he had a hand in the saving of the people. In a sense, he was masked or disguised and rabbis referred to G-d’s role as “hester panim,” or “hiding of the face,” which is also said to be a play on the words Megillat Hester, rather than the Hebrew name for the Book of Esther, Megillat Esther.

Philosophers and scriptural commentators believe that G-d’s name is omitted to emphasize the very point that G-d remained hidden throughout the story, but was nonetheless present and played a large role in its outcome. Megillat Esther may show that, although G-d may not be conspicuously present at times, he nevertheless plays an important role in everyone’s lives and that of the Jewish nation. In remembrance of how G-d remained hidden throughout the Purim miracle, Jews dress up on the holiday and many hide their faces.

Another explanation is in the Book of Esther’s eighth chapter, verse 17: “And many from among the peoples of the land became Jews, for the fear of the Jews was fallen upon them.” Non-Jews converted or perhaps pretended or disguised themselves as Jews for fear of Haman’s fate befalling them.

We do know for sure that the Book of Esther and the Talmud never discuss Purim costumes.

One source says the costumes and masks originated at the end of the 15th century among Italian Jews, influenced by the country’s carnivals. From there, the custom spread across Europe and to other countries where Jews lived, except perhaps the Far East.

Another source contends the custom could have originated in the medieval period in Germany and was an imitation of Christian carnivals, which took place around the same season.

Judah ben Eliezer ha-Levi Minz was a Venetian codifier of the 15th century, known as the “Mahari Minz”; he died in Padua, Italy, in 1508. In his responsa No. 17, quoted by Moses Isserles, the 16th-century rabbi and talmudist, in his book Orach Chayim (696:8), the Mahari Minz expresses the opinion that, since the purpose of the masquerade is only merrymaking, it should not be considered a transgression of the biblical law regarding dress, but he does not provide the origin of wearing Purim costumes. Furthermore, he permitted men and women to wear clothing of the opposite gender, even though this violates the biblical prohibition of cross-dressing (Deuteronomy 22:5). Some have speculated that it commemorates when Mordechai was dressed in regal clothing and escorted by Haman (Esther 6:11), a clear turning point in the plot of the story.

Although some authorities issued prohibitions against the custom of dressing up in costumes, people did not heed them and the more lenient view prevailed. Jews of the Middle East, however, did not start this custom until the 19th century.

Whatever its origins, dressing in costumes has been a tradition for many a Purim now, for adults and children alike. Purim sameach!

Revisit the Jewish fabric arts

When I was very young, I learned to embroider. My mother was a fabulous seamstress, but sewing was not my thing. Later, around middle school, an aunt taught me how to knit. I picked up crocheting but never really liked it or excelled at it. However, I took knitting to all levels, including a dress for myself, and, later, I returned to various kinds of needlepoint, coming to love them.

On my and my husband’s bedroom wall, there are framed embroidery pieces, each with its history, which I collected in the 1970s. I would have liked to have in my collection some work from Jewish women, who had done embroidery before immigrating to Israel from various countries, but they had stopped doing such work, and all the pieces I have were made by Arab women, who continued the craft.

It was with this background that I thoroughly enjoyed perusing the new-to-me pages of Jewish Threads: A Hands-on Guide to Stitching Spiritual Intention into Jewish Fabric Crafts by Diana Drew with Robert Grayson (Jewish Lights Publishing, 2011). The author explains her journey from sewing to fabric crafts, from editing for the division of Random House that published books on handicrafts to being awakened spiritually while editing for spiritual book publisher SkyLight Paths.

In Jewish Threads, there are 30 projects and 30 interesting stories (written by the author’s husband) about each artist and their project. The contributors come from the United States – Alabama, California, Kentucky, Massachusetts, Minnesota, New Jersey, New York, Pennsylvania, Vermont, Washington – and Israel.

The book has four parts: at home, in the synagogue, celebrating holidays and through the Jewish lifecycle. For the home, there are wall hangings, a needlepoint and a purse. For the synagogue, there is a runner, a Shulchan Aruch cover, placekeepers and Torah mantles. The holiday section includes challah covers, a quilt, a vest, puppets, a matzah cover, an afikomen holder and a seder plate. And, lastly, the Jewish lifecycle section includes quilts, a challah cover, a tallit and tallit bags. Another five “inspirations” include several chuppahs, a tallit bag, a wall hanging and a bimah cloth.

The techniques include quilting, appliqué, embroidery, needlepoint, cross-stitch, crochet, knitting, felting and needle felting.

Although decidedly not for beginners, each project lists details for getting started, what you’ll need and step-by-step instructions, sketches and how to finish. The “final threads” chapter offers how-to’s for quilt-making, lettering, a stitch guide, resources and projects for sewing circles, parents and children and holidays.

Silver family wedding

Hoopla Under the Huppah by Dori Weinstein (Five Flames Press, 2017) is the third instalment of the YaYa and YoYo series, which includes Sliding into the New Year, about Rosh Hashanah, and Shaking in the Shack, about Sukkot.

Targeted to 9-to-11-year-olds, Hoopla Under the Huppah features 11-year-old twins YaYa (Yael/Ellie) and YoYo (Yoel/Joel) Silver. Their Aunt Rachel is getting married to soon-to-be Uncle David, and they have been asked to participate. As the plans develop, YaYa and YoYo learn all of the rituals and traditions of a Jewish wedding. However, as the weeks pass, there are all kinds of good and bad adventures that the twins and their 13-year-old older brother, Jeremy, experience. As the ketubah, painted by the kids’ mother, the wedding ceremony and more evolve, YaYa worries about “the Evil Eye” and that she might be bringing bad luck to everything she touches.

Hoopla Under the Huppah offers opportunities for parents to discuss various Jewish traditions with their kids, while enjoying the humour of the Silver family. As an adult, I really enjoyed this book.

Weinstein grew up in New York, taught in public and Jewish schools and now lives in Minneapolis, Minn., with her husband and children, where she teaches preschool Hebrew.

Shalvi reaches the sky

Alice Shalvi, an Israeli professor and educator, has played a leading role in progressive Jewish education for girls and advancing the status of women in Israel. Her autobiography, Never a Native (Halban Publishers, 2018), reads almost as a personal diary. Otherwise, how could this 92-year-old recall the most minute details of her life?

The youngest of two children, Shalvi was born in Essen, Germany, to Benzion and Perl Margulies, religious Zionists who owned a wholesale linen and housewares business. In 1933, soon after Hitler’s rise to power in Germany, their home was searched, prompting her father’s move to London, England. The rest of the family followed in May 1934.

In London, Shalvi’s father and brother imported watches and jewelry. When the Blitz began, they temporarily moved to Aylesbury, 50 kilometres north of London.

In 1944, Shalvi studied English literature at Cambridge University. In 1946, she was sent to the Zionist Congress in Basel as a representative of British Jewish students and, in 1949, after completing a degree in social work at the London School of Economics, she immigrated to Israel, settling in Jerusalem. She became a faculty member in the English department of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem and she earned her PhD there in 1962.

In May 1950, Shalvi met Moshe Shelkowitz (changed later to Shalvi), a recent immigrant from New York, whom she married in October of that year. They had six children between 1952 and 1967; Moshe Shalvi died in 2013.

The 25th issue of Nashim: A Journal of Jewish Women’s Studies and Gender Issues (fall 2003) was dedicated to Alice Shalvi, “who made the dream of a journal devoted to Jewish women’s and gender studies possible.” When the concept of Nashim was first presented to her, the special issue notes that Shalvi greeted it not only with enthusiasm but as an idea whose time had finally come – she and her friends, pioneers of second-wave Jewish feminism, had raised it long before. “Subsequently, as rector of the Schechter Institute (1997-2001), [Shalvi] added her voice to the approval process for the issue’s first publication. She has remained on Nashim’s editorial board ever since, contributing her wise and warm guidance on issues of editorial and academic policy and herself serving as consulting editor for our issue on Women, War and Peace.”

In an interview by Elana Maryules Sztokman for the Lookstein Centre at Bar-Ilan University some years ago – after Shalvi had been awarded the 2007 Israel Prize for life achievement – Shalvi commented: “I felt that, through the work we had done on behalf of women, an enormous change had occurred in the status of women, in the self-image of women, in the self-assurance of women and, most importantly – because that’s what the prize recognized – in the awareness of the importance and centrality of the subject of the status of women in society at large.”

Shalvi spoke about the Pelech School for Girls and the Israel Women’s Network. “The school has created a generation of young modern Orthodox women who are changing that entire social system within modern orthodoxy,” she said. “The other thing I’m proud of is the years at the network, which saw the largest number of legislative changes and reforms in women’s status because what I call the ‘alumnae’ of the network were so prominent in the Knesset.”

In her autobiography, Shalvi emphasizes “that it’s all about the home,” and acknowledges the impact her parents had on her. “What I saw at home,” she writes, “was an open attitude, observance but openness. My mother always used to set an extra place at the table on Shabbat in case my father brought home a stranger from synagogue, as was the custom in those days. And, in my family, I learned about tzedakah in the very best sense – always a readiness to help others, not only from my father, who did it on a both public and personal level, but also from my mother.

“The other thing I absorbed was Zionism. It was a strongly Zionist household, and my father was very active in the religious Zionist community. From very early on, I knew that I would come on aliyah one day. I didn’t know when, but it was definitely there in the future.”

When asked to convey one message to the next generation, Shalvi said, “Reach for the sky and don’t give up. Don’t ever give up. Even if you know you’ll never attain what you’re reaching for, persist. Keep at it. I like to quote Robert Browning’s ‘Andrea del Sarto’: ‘Aye, but a man’s reach must exceed his grasp / Or what’s a heaven for.’ Keep on striving because, even if you don’t attain that goal yourself, the chances are that, for the next generation, it will be easier.”

Pinson writes definitive book

If I wrote that I had been trying to get a review copy of Rising: The Book of Challah by Rochie Pinson (Feldheim Publishers) since November 2016, readers would find that hard to believe, but the book only arrived at my door recently.

Pinson, who grew up in Vancouver, is co-founder of the IYYUN Centre for Jewish Spirituality with her husband, Rav DovBer Pinson, in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn. They have four children. She mentors women and teaches various classes. She also conducts a challah-baking workshop, which she teaches worldwide, including in Vancouver.

For Rising, Pinson has written 352 pages about challah. This book is about her philosophy, spirituality, history and everything you wanted to know about challah. And, yes, it includes recipes – 38 of them for challah and seven for toppings.

“The intent of challah,” writes the rebbetzin, “is to reveal our innate power to nurture and nourish, and reclaim our mothering potential in all the forms it can take.”

Section I, “The Story of Challah,” explains how, as a new bride, Pinson arrived in Kobe, Japan, which had no kosher bakery, and soon got into making 40 challot a week for the Jewish community.

The book then expands to other information about challah, spirituality and other topics, including a detailed examination of each ingredient and information on the concept of “rising.”

Section II is the cookbook, with reviews and details of ingredients and equipment and troubleshooting.

There are eight recipes, including her own classic challah recipe, gluten-free challah and vegan challah; eight holiday specialties, like apple-and-honey challah and pretzel challah; six recipes from around the world, including Moroccan challah, Yemenite challah and Bukharian challah; nine challah innovations, such as a “fish” challah (shaped like a fish with salmon, tuna, mushrooms and other vegetables), a deli challah (with deli meats) and a rainbow challah (using food colouring); and eight recipes for leftover challah, like babka, cinnamon bars and French toasts. Rising also has recipes for seven different challah toppings, including cream cheese frosting, and accompaniments for other dishes, such as challah stuffing and challah croutons.

Section III is called “Laws and Customs,” which is mainly self-explanatory, though it also includes challah meditations. A glossary and index conclude the book.

There are more than 100 colour photographs in Rising and many sketches, such as 37 ways to braid and shape a challah.

Rising really is the definitive “everything you ever wanted to know about challah” book, written with love and nurturing. It contains a huge amount of information, including the story of Pinson’s life “as realized through challah baking, and challah baking as a metaphor for balanced, integrated nurturing of our self and our loved ones.”

This is the book to give to anyone who bakes challah, and to anyone else who might be contemplating it.

Sybil Kaplan is a journalist, author, compiler/editor of nine kosher cookbooks and a food writer for North American Jewish publications, who lives in Jerusalem where she leads weekly walks of the Jewish food market, Machaneh Yehudah, in English.

Alternatives to potato latkes

(photo from Joy/flickr.com)

An old folk proverb says, “Chanukah latkes teach us that one cannot live by miracles alone.”

Jewish food writer and cookbook author Joan Nathan contends that the word latke is not Yiddish, as everyone presumes, but stems from “a Russian word, latka, and a pastry, from obsolete Russian, oladka, or flat cake of leavened wheat dough.” This, in turn, probably came from a Middle Greek word, eladion, or oil cake, stemming from elaion, meaning olive oil.

Potato pancakes do seem to have originated among poor Eastern European Jews, but potatoes did not become a staple until the mid-19th century. John Cooper, in Eat and Be Satisfied: A Social History of Jewish Food, comments that Jews from Lithuania ate pancakes made from potato flour for Chanukah and had borrowed the idea from the Ukrainians, who made a potato pancake dish with goose fat called kartoflani platske, which they ate for Christmas. Since Chanukah fell about the same time, and there were plenty of geese to provide goose fat or schmaltz, we could conclude that schmaltz became a substitute for oil. Jews living in the Pale of Settlement in the 17th century probably adapted it for Chanukah as a way to dress potatoes differently for the holiday. Cooper also states that many Eastern European Jews ate buckwheat latkes for Chanukah, while Polish Jews made placki (pancakes) from potato flour and fried them in oil.

But what happens when you get tired of potato latkes? Here are some variations for Chanukah.

OLD JERUSALEM ZUCCHINI PANCAKES
Adapted from The Delights of Jerusalem by Rena Valero (Steimatzky, 1985). Recipe makes 20 patties.

6 zucchini
salt, to taste
salt and pepper to taste
1 diced onion
2 tbsp chopped parsley
2 tbsp chopped dill
2 large eggs
1/2 cup matzah meal
1 tbsp vegetable oil
oil for frying

Grate unpeeled zucchini into a strainer. Sprinkle with salt and drain for 30 minutes. Squeeze to remove remaining liquid.
In a mixing bowl, combine zucchini, salt, pepper, onion, parsley, dill, eggs and matzah meal and one tablespoon oil.
Heat oil in a frying pan. Form zucchini mixture into patties. Fry for a few a minutes on each side. Drain on paper towels.

CARROT-PARSNIP LATKES
makes 16 patties

5 grated parsnips
2 grated carrots
1/4 cup flour
2 eggs
1 tsp dry chives or onion
1 tsp dry parsley
1/2 tsp salt
oil

Grate parsnips and carrots into a mixing bowl and toss with flour.
Add eggs, chives or onion, parsley and salt and mix.
Heat oil in a frying pan. Make latkes by hand, add to oil, and fry until brown on both sides. Drain on paper towels.

VEGETABLE FETA LATKES
makes 10 to 12 patties

1 cup grated carrots
2 1/2 cups grated zucchini
1 cup grated potatoes or grated kohlrabi
1/2 tsp salt
3 eggs
salt and pepper to taste
3/4 cup flour
1/2 cup chopped fresh parsley
1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese
1/5 cup vegetable oil

Place carrots, zucchini and potato (or kohlrabi) in a colander. Cover with cheesecloth or paper towels and squeeze out as much liquid as possible. Sprinkle salt and let them drain 15 minutes, then squeeze in paper towels.
Place vegetables in a mixing bowl. Add eggs, salt and pepper, flour, parsley and cheese.
Heat oil in a frying pan. Form mixture into patties. Fry in hot oil until brown on both sides. Drain on paper towels.

Applesauce & sour cream

Recently, someone asked me, why applesauce and sour cream for latkes? I wrote to my American Jewish food expert friend, Joan Nathan, but she didn’t know, so I Googled latkes and applesauce, found a blogger who voiced an idea, and I thought it made sense.

He suggested that, maybe, one year before Chanukah, a shopkeeper somewhere in Eastern Europe placed his annual order for potatoes to his dry goods provider. He wrote potatoes in Hebrew as tapuah adama. Somehow, the word adama was inadvertently erased and ended up being tapuach, the Hebrew word for apple. The supplier read the order and scratched his head, wondering why the shopkeeper didn’t want potatoes for Chanukah. But, due to the limits of communication back in those days, he couldn’t check with him in time, so he went ahead and filled the order, sending a bushel of apples.

When the shopkeeper saw the apples instead of potatoes, he wondered what to do with them but then figured, surely they would be a treat for Chanukah. He was able to sell the idea to the townspeople to buy apples, and some clever women decided to cook the apples – hence, applesauce. By the end of the holiday, everyone was raving about the apples and apple dishes.

In the Encyclopedia of Jewish Food, Gil Marks wrote that Greek Jews had a tradition that the Maccabees ate duck with apples to celebrate their victory, and that this was extended to serving apple rings, apple fritters and applesauce.

John Cooper, in Eat and Be Satisfied, reasons that the only fat for frying latkes was schmaltz, so the only topping could be applesauce.

Another source says apples were eaten on Rosh Chodesh, the start of a new month. Hungarian Jews made apple cake and strudel or tart for Rosh Hashanah, while Indian Jews dip apple in honey and rose water and Sephardi Jews make apple compote. Ashkenazi Jews serve apple strudel on Sukkot, and children place apples at the end of a flag stick for Simchat Torah.

As for sour cream, well, made in its fermented form, it was popular in the Slavic region. The idea of boiled potatoes eaten with sour cream was associated with Eastern European Jews, so, if they found a substitute for the schmaltz when frying their latkes, they could well have used sour cream as an accompaniment.

Hot pancakes for breakfast

(photo by Brandon Martin-Anderson)

According to my research, some type of pancakes was made by ancient Greeks and Romans, or even earlier; Christians made them before Lent to use up foods they could not otherwise consume. The earliest pancakes were made with spelt flour and the word “pancake” first appears in a 15th-century English document. North American-style pancakes likely began in the form of Johnnycakes, a savoury flatbread made with cornmeal, which are at least 500 years old.

Given their long history, and because they are fried, perhaps during Chanukah, a few pancake breakfasts would be appropriate – and tasty. Here are a few recipes to try.

BASIC BREAKFAST PANCAKES
makes 12 pancakes

1/2 cup flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
1 tbsp sugar
1 egg
1 tbsp melted margarine or butter
1/3 cup milk
cinnamon (optional)
vanilla (optional)
oil for frying

Combine flour, baking powder, sugar, egg, melted margarine or butter and milk in a mixing bowl and blend. Heat oil in a frying pan. Spoon batter around pan and fry until brown on both sides. Keep warm in an oven until ready to serve.

LEMON RICOTTA PANCAKES
Adapted from a Food &Wine recipe from 2002. Makes four servings.

1 cup part-skim ricotta cheese
2 large eggs
2 large egg whites
1/2 cup flour
1 tbsp vegetable oil
1 tsp finely grated lemon peel
2 tsp honey
oil for frying

Blend cheese, egg, egg whites, flour, oil, lemon peel and honey until smooth. Heat griddle or frying pan with oil. Spoon the batter around pan for pancakes. Cook until golden on both sides. Keep warm until ready to serve.

BANANA PANCAKES
makes four servings

3 sliced bananas
2 tbsp orange juice
1 tbsp sugar
1 cup flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
1 egg
1/2 cup milk
2 tbsp melted butter or margarine
1/4 tsp vanilla
1 tsp orange peel
vegetable oil

In a bowl, combine orange juice and sugar. Add banana slices and let stand.
In a mixing bowl, combine flour, baking powder, egg, milk, melted butter or margarine, vanilla and orange peel.
Drain banana slices and add to batter.
Heat oil in a frying pan. Spoon the batter around pan for pancakes. Cook until brown on both sides. Keep warm until ready to serve.

Sybil Kaplan is a journalist, author, compiler/editor of nine kosher cookbooks and a food writer for North American Jewish publications, who lives in Jerusalem where she leads weekly walks of the Jewish food market, Machaneh Yehudah, in English.

Trio of favourite potato soups

Everyone has their favourite soup when the fall weather turns into winter. Mine is potato soup. I don’t remember who made this for me, whether it was my grandmother or my mother, or when or how it became my favourite. In sharing these recipes with readers, I hope to share some of the warmth and comfort they have given me over the years.

The first mention of potatoes in the Americas seems to be in the journals of Magellan and Columbus, where they are called “batatas.” They were brought to southern and central America when Pizarro conquered Peru, and spread via Spanish forts and ships.

In Ireland, the potato was introduced in 1565, and it quickly became the main element of the Irish diet – to the extent that, when the Irish potato crop failed in 1847, one-and-a-half million Irish died, with another million emigrating, mostly to America.

The potato also helped feed the starving masses of Europe when famine struck in 1770. The French leader Parmentier set up potato soup kitchens to feed people and, to this day, potato soup bears his name in the French language. Here are some recipes from my files.

POTAGE FERMIÈRE (FARMERS SOUP)
makes three to four servings

1 small finely chopped onion
1 1/2 tsp butter or margarine
1 diced potato
3 cups water
3 tsp pareve chicken powder
1 sliced leek
1/4 tsp dry tarragon
salt and pepper to taste
3 tbsp non dairy creamer or milk
1 1/2 tsp finely chopped parsley
grated Parmesan cheese

Sauté onion in butter or margarine in a soup pot.
Add potato, water and chicken soup powder; cover and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer 15 minutes.
Add leek, tarragon, salt and pepper and pareve cream or milk. Cover and simmer 10 minutes longer or until leeks are tender.
Mash with potato masher or puree in blender. Garnish with parsley. Have Parmesan cheese in a bowl for each person to sprinkle over soup.

CREAMY POTATO SOUP
This recipe comes from The Kosher Palette (Joseph Kushner Hebrew Academy), edited by Susie Fishbein and Sandra Blank. It makes 24 servings.

3 tbsp oil
8 peeled, cubed potatoes
6 peeled, thinly sliced carrots
3 tbsp flour
1 tsp salt
1 tsp paprika
8 cups water
1 cup non-dairy creamer
1 peeled onion
2 ribs sliced celery
2-3 bay leaves
finely chopped parsley

Heat oil in a soup pot. Add potatoes and sauté three to five minutes, stirring constantly.
Add carrots and stir. Stir in flour, salt and paprika. Add water, creamer, onion, celery and bay leaves. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat, cover and simmer one-and-a-half hours, stirring occasionally. Remove onion, celery and bay leaves.
Serve with warm, crusty bread. Garnish with parsley. Soup may be served chunky or smooth processed in a blender.

POTATO CUCUMBER SOUP
This recipe is adapted from a magazine but I don’t know which one or when. Its origins are Polish, Russian or Ukrainian. It makes nine servings.

6 peeled, quartered potatoes
2 cups water
1 1/2 tsp chicken soup powder
1 tbsp minced onion
2 tsp salt
1/8 tsp pepper
2 cups pareve creamer or milk
2 1/2 cups peeled cucumbers
1 tsp dill weed

In soup pot, heat potatoes, water, chicken soup powder, onion, salt and pepper. Reduce, cover and simmer 15 minutes or until potatoes are fork tender.
Mash potatoes. Add creamer or milk and cucumbers. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer 10 minutes. Stir in dill.

A gift of holiday reads

Many authors of children’s Chanukah books still perpetuate two mistakes. One is that a chanukiyah is the same as a menorah, whereas the latter is actually the seven-branched Temple lamp looted by the Romans when the Temple was destroyed. The second is the rabbinic legend of the miracle of the oil, which is not actually part of the story of the Maccabean revolt and the Maccabees’ fight for the right to worship as Jews. The books reviewed here are sweet, but part of the time reading these books might be spent discussing these issues.

While Light the Menorah (Kar-Ben Publishing) by Jacqueline Jules, with illustrations by Kristina Swarner, calls the chanukiyah a menorah throughout and highlights the miracle of oil, this “manual for the contemporary Jewish family” contains sweet reflections for each night of the holiday, a form of history, games, songs, recipes, crafts and blessings geared for a family with 4-to-10-year-olds.

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Dreidel Day (Kar-Ben Publishing), written and illustrated by Amalia Hoffman, is a cute board book for babies, infants and toddlers. It teaches readers numbers one through eight and some words related to Chanukah.

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How It’s Made: Hanukkah Menorah (Apples and Honey Press) is by Allison Ofanansky and photographer Eliyahu Alpern. These two creative people have once again combined their talents to produce a new book in their “How It’s Made” series. Sadly, the authors only refer to the chanukiyah as a menorah. Nonetheless, this is an educational and fun book, which explains the materials needed to make a candelabra, shows examples of them and provides instructions on how to make one, as well as how to make candles and olive oil. The book ends with songs, a recipe for potato latkes, instructions for playing dreidel, a matching game and the blessings. The text is child-friendly and good for all ages, especially 4 to 8.

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Hanukkah Cookies with Sprinkles (Apples and Honey Press) by David A. Adler and illustrator Jeffrey Ebbeler was published a few years ago, but it was new to me, and I hope it’s new to others, as well.

Sara is a little girl who is very observant about things she sees from her apartment window. One day, she sees an old man pick up a piece of bruised fruit from a box next to the market. She then decides to leave things for him. Soon, she discovers he is the man who helps set up the chairs and collects books at the synagogue. She learns more about him as she practises the true meaning of tzedakah and spreads the idea to her family and classmates.

The book’s Note for Families provides context for the story and traditions of Chanukah, as well as the meaning of tzedakah, and challenges readers to think about ways they can give tzedakah, too.

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Hanukkah Delight! (Kar-Ben Publishing) by Leslea Newman and illustrator Amy Husband is a board book. In it, all of the customs of Chanukah are rhymed with delight as a darling family of bunnies practises each one. The artwork is colourful and the details are really well done. The male bunnies and other male animals wear yarmulkes and the drawings of dreidels, children playing with the dreidels, latkes and presents are quite appealing. For any 1-to-4-year-old, this is a sweet way to introduce the holiday of Chanukah.

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Potatoes at Turtle Rock (Kar-Ben Publishing) is written by Rabbi Susan Schnur and her daughter, Anna Schnur-Fishman, who are also the authors of Tashlich at Turtle Rock. It is illustrated by Alex Steele-Morgan, who also did the artwork for the Schnurs’ earlier companion book.

Potatoes at Turtle Rock is the story of a family – mom, dad, teenage son (Lincoln) and daughter (Annie) – who have, as pets, a chicken (Richie) and a goat (Ubi).

They also have their own Jewish holiday traditions. For Chanukah, the family goes to the woods, with Dad carrying a lantern, Mom carrying the chicken, Annie leading the goat and Richie pulling a sled. They make stops along the way, where Annie provides riddles.

Although a little off-beat, this book for ages 5 to 9 shows children that every family can be original and creative and create their own traditions for Jewish holidays.

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A Hanukkah with Mazel (Kar-Ben Publishing) by Joel Stein and artist Elisa Vavouri is about Misha, a poor artist living outside Grodno, a city in western Belarus, in the late 19th or early 20th century. One cold winter night, he discovers a little cat. He takes her into the barn, where his cow lives, and then into his house. He names her Mazel, meaning luck.

Chanukah is about to arrive and he begins a painting of a chanukiyah, since he has no money to buy oil for his chanukiyah. The story evolves when a peddler stops and discovers Mazel is his Goldie.

With the themes of hope and luck, this is a very charming story for 3-to-8-year-olds.