Around the Shabbat Table

Over 40 Holiday Recipes for the Food Lover

Jayne Cohen

Wiley Selects

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Copyright © 2012 by Jayne Cohen. All rights reserved.

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ISBN 978-1-118-39221-8 (ebk); ISBN 978-1-118-39222-5 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Contents

Introduction

Shabbat Recipes

Basics

SABBATH

Every week from eighteen minutes before sunset Friday until the first three stars appear Saturday evening

“It was the darkness and emptiness of the streets I liked most about Friday evening, as if in preparation for that day of rest and worship which the Jews greet ‘as a bride’. . . . I waited for the streets to go dark on Friday evening as other children waited for Christmas lights.”

—ALFRED KAZIN, A WALKER IN THE CITY

No wonder the Sabbath is frequently personified as a beautiful queen, princess, or bride: traditional Jewish families eagerly begin feverish preparations for its arrival as if for a royal visit.

Cooks seek out the best foods and wines in the markets, and often put aside especially choice or exotic fruits found during the week to be savored when the Sabbath comes. Most of the finest Jewish recipes derive from the Sabbath kitchen: for many poor Jews, it was the one day of the week that they would taste meat, chicken, or wine.

The freshly scrubbed house percolates with the sounds and smells of Sabbath cooking. A sniff of tsimmes, puckery-sweet with rhubarb and prunes, tantalizes the nose. And the crisp skin of lemon-roasted chicken and puffy little matzoh balls, waiting for soup, invite filching by hungry children just home from school.

For the most observant, everything must be readied before the Queen’s arrival, not only the Friday evening meal but Saturday’s hot lunch as well. Kindling fires and cooking are among the thirty-nine activities classified as work, and therefore are prohibited while the Sabbath is in progress. In addition to festive foods like challah, chicken soup, chopped chicken livers, and gefilte fish, Jews have created a whole set of special dishes to accommodate the special Sabbath restrictions: cholents, hamins, and dafinas—lusty one-pot meals made beforehand then left to cook overnight in the slowest ovens, savory kugels and fritadas (frittatas) warmed up on hot trays, and spicy fresh fish dishes from Jewish kitchens all over the globe, prepared ahead and served cold.

As night falls on Friday, the hustle and bustle cease and a hush falls over the house. The table, cleared of mail, keys, and other weekday detritus, has been transformed: now it is an elegant altar of spotless linen, gleaming silver, and china set to honor the Sabbath.

As Jews light the candles and recite the Kiddush blessing over the wine to usher in the Sabbath, the parents bless the children. The joyous family meal is especially delicious and savored leisurely.

The following day, the Queen’s presence is still felt, as the family continues to move in step with her unique rhythm. Since the most ancient times (it is the only holiday mentioned in the Ten Commandments), even those whose six-day work week revolved around mindless drudgery and endless toil could look forward to an evening, then an entire day—the Sabbath—devoted to resting their bodies, renewing their spirits, and strengthening the bonds with those they loved.

The numerical value of the letters in the word dag (Hebrew for fish) adds up to seven, and Sabbath is the seventh day of the week. And so whoever ate dag on the Sabbath was thought to be safe from the judgment of Gehenna, the hellish afterlife for the damned.

Although prepared differently in the myriad kitchens of the Diaspora, a special fish dish usually appears at one or more meals on every Jewish Sabbath: Friday night, the hearty Saturday lunch, or the light meal at Sabbath’s close. In fact, two widely divergent chopped fish recipes, gefilte fish and Middle Eastern ground fish balls like Egyptian bellahat, may both owe their origins to the injunction against Sabbath work, which includes borer (picking over bones). Removing the bones from the fish and chopping it up in advance afforded Jews from Eastern Europe and North Africa a delicious, pleasurable way to enjoy their Sabbath fish.

In Talmudic times (70 to 500 CE) a hot meal was not an everyday occurrence. To honor the Sabbath, it became a mitzvah (good deed), to serve hot food at the Saturday midday meal. Here we dish up robust, slow-cooked Duck and White Bean Cholent or a dafina combining falling-off-the-bone lamb with little boats of stuffed eggplant, accompanied by tart, crisp green salads. In warm weather, there is desayuno (a Sephardi-style brunch), featuring Spinach Cheese Squares, roasted eggs, and perhaps an Ashkenazi Sorrel-Onion Noodle Kugel.

Saturday night, when it is time to bid farewell to the Sabbath, she is escorted off in the enchanting Havdalah ceremony. Jews burn a braided candle, pour a full cup of wine, and breathe in fragrant spices, reminding them of the special Sabbath sweetness they have tasted. This sweetness will fortify them as they return to the routine world. Just until Wednesday, when they begin anticipating the beautiful Sabbath to come.

Many American Jews, even if they are not Orthodox, still find some way to mark the Sabbath as sacred and separate it from the workaday week. For some, this is the special Friday night dinner—perhaps the only time during a busy week when the family sits down together—or the quiet Saturday spent with loved ones. For others, it is the unique aura of shalom beit (peace in the house) that settles over the family: the commandment in Exodus 35:3 (“Ye shall kindle no fire throughout your habitation upon the Sabbath day”) may also refer to flaring tempers and simmering anger.

For me, as a child, it was the Kiddush, the blessing chanted before the Friday evening meal to usher in the Sabbath. Never bound by custom, my father always let me, his daughter, “make” the Kiddush—though traditionally the benediction is recited by men—because I, a passionate eight-year-old who had just begun Hebrew school lessons, was burning to take over the ceremony.

And so it became my job as much as setting the table every evening. I chanted the prayers and sipped the sweet, syrupy wine from my father’s worn Kiddush cup, shined so often and so hard that no inscriptions were any longer visible. Then I’d pass the cup around so everyone could drink in the Sabbath’s sweetness—mother, father, sister, brother, grandfather, usually a guest or two, and back to me. A circle that was a warm embrace and inviolate family nexus.

There were times, of course, that I absented myself, when I was a guest at a friend’s, or later a boyfriend’s, home. And I can still hear the note of disappointment—and chastening—in my father’s voice when I told him I wouldn’t be home for dinner: “Do you know it’s Friday night?” he’d ask.

But next Friday, I’d be back. No Kiddush wine ever tasted so sweet as at my father’s table.

In homes in which the Sabbath is not observed in the traditional way, the routine demands of contemporary life can make even simple Sabbath observance seem difficult. A Friday night dinner when your daughter regularly performs in the school plays and her older brother wants to grab a pizza and hang out with friends on weekends? Saturdays that begin with carpool for the soccer team?

But the ancient wisdom of setting aside one day of the week and noting it as special still applies today. Shabbat not only rests our bodies and renews our spirits but also nourishes our families.

Many families decide to begin celebrating Shabbat when their children are small. For others, Friday evening seems the perfect time for their grown children (and their families or significant others) to come home for dinner. And, for some, Shabbat becomes the night to break bread with their family or friends.

Here are just some of the ways to bring Shabbat traditions into nontraditional families.

• Before the Sabbath starts, it is customary to put aside money for tzedakah (charity) and special tzedakah boxes—beautiful heirlooms or colorful ones made by the kids—are familiar fixtures in Jewish homes. Put money in the box every Friday, and make the decision of where to donate the money a family one. Encourage your children to contribute some of their own money to the collection, or to a different cause that is important to them.

• If a family member is away—a child at school or camp, a parent traveling on business, grandparents who live out-of-town—this is a wonderful time to call, wish him or her a good week, and say I love you.

• Families traditionally usher in Shabbat by lighting candles: usually two, though some light an extra candle for each child or even each member of the household. While candlelighting was a woman’s job in the past, there is no reason why the father or all the family members can’t take part. Kindling the flames focuses attention on the moment, announcing the commencement of the Sabbath, and the soft lights emanate a protective glow over the house. If your children arrive home later in the evening, well past candlelighting, consider giving them their own candles to light at that time.

• Filled now with a sense of our blessings, we are aware of the gifts our children are to us. For a parent, this may be the most beautiful part of Shabbat—the time to bless your children using the traditional blessing from a prayerbook or one you create in your own words. If you incorporate just one Shabbat tradition into your life, let it be this one. If you have been arguing all week, take a break, bless and kiss your child. If your children go out on Friday night, bless them when they come home or the following day.

• Many parents “store up” their blessings for the day their child becomes bar or bat mitzvah or marries. You’ll find that weekly Shabbat blessings connect you intimately to your child, and eventually prepare a meaningful foundation for your blessings at these special milestones.

• This is also a perfect time for all members of the family to bless each other.

• Before dinner is served, chant the Kiddush. L’chaim! To life! The celebrated toast reminds us that from the beginning of Jewish time, wine has embodied both life’s blessings and its blessedness. Kiddush, the prayer over wine, means “sanctification,” and the Friday night benediction, completed by the requisite drink of wine, symbolically consecrates the family and the dinner that follows. Pass the cup around the table so that everyone can share the taste of life’s joys.

• Ashkenazi and Sephardi literature abounds with descriptions of memorable Shabbat dinners, of foods imbued with the unique spice of Sabbath itself. A luscious home-cooked meal served on your best china would be fabulous, but there are simpler ways to make the dinner special: fill a vase with fragrant lilacs; offer a dessert too rich for your weekday table; splurge on red meat like Easy Onion-Braised Brisket or a beautiful, high-carb Onion Challah or other bread you try to avoid during the week. Sit down together at the same time and eat leisurely. If you have young children, read a story or sing family songs to encourage them to stay at the table.

• If at all possible, try to have your kids bring their friends home rather than go out, or arrange to serve dinner early, before they leave for the evening. If they do miss dinner, consider deferring Shabbat dessert—or just plain milk and cookies—until they return home. And bless them then.

• “When I marched in Selma,” the eminent theologian Abraham Joshua Heschel said, “my feet were praying;” some families regularly pray with their hands on Shabbat instead of attending worship services. At the Village Temple in New York City, every Saturday while services are taking place downstairs in the sanctuary, volunteers—young children to ninetysomethings—work in the soup kitchen upstairs preparing a hearty lunch for homeless guests. If your family prefers to pray with their hands on Friday night or Saturday, and local synagogues do not have a similar program (in Orthodox and most Conservative congregations, traditionally such work would not be permitted in the synagogue on the Sabbath), consider other opportunities in your area for which you might regularly volunteer, like Friday night or Saturday morning read-alouds in the children’s or geriatric section of your hospital.

• Shabbat has always been a time for visiting extended family and close friends, a time to strengthen bonds with those we love. Gathering around the table—whether for a special meal like Shabbat lunch or just pie and ice cream on September afternoons on the screened porch—invites conversation. And without baseball blaring from the TV, Grandpa may share a family memory; leaving video games or the laptop at home will encourage children to actively participate with stories of their own.

• Or revive a long-lost family tradition: the Cousins Club. When all their parents had passed away, my mother’s cousins realized that with the older generation gone, it was up to them to stay in touch with each other. They decided to get together once a month for a potluck Shabbat dinner. The vibrant meal they share reflects the rich tapestry of cultures the family now comprises.

• And for many families, spending time together outdoors on Shabbat brings a heightened sense of our place in the universe. Visiting a botanical garden or nearby hiking trail as the seasons unfold, taking a leisurely family walk every Saturday afternoon, watching the sun set or the constellations appear in the Friday night sky—all connect us to the rhythms of the natural world and to one another.

SHABBAT RECIPES

CLASSIC CHALLAH

MARY’S ONION CHALLAH

CHOPPED CHICKEN LIVER FROM THE RUE DES ROSIERS

GRATED BLACK RADISH AND ENDIVE SALAD IN SHALLOT VINAIGRETTE

CLASSIC CHICKEN SOUP

TWO CLASSIC MATZOH BALL RECIPES

FRIED ONION AND CHICKEN KREPLACH

CHEATER’S CHICKEN IN THE POT AND ALMOST-HOMEMADE SOUP

CHILLED MINTED CUCUMBER SOUP

GEFILTE FISH QUICKLY STEAMED BETWEEN CABBAGE LEAVES

MOROCCAN FISH WITH CHICKPEAS AND SAFFRON-LIME AIOLI

ITALIAN-JEWISH MARINATED FRIED FISH (PESCE EN SAOR)

LEMON-ROASTED CHICKEN

CHICKEN PAPRIKASH WITH NOCKERL (DUMPLINGS)

CLASSIC SWEET-AND-SOUR STUFFED CABBAGE

EASY ONION-BRAISED BRISKET

FLANKEN WITH TART GREENS

COFFEE-SPICED POT ROAST WITH KASHA KREPLACH AND TOASTED GARLIC CHALLAH CRUMBS

SEPHARDI-STYLE STUFFED MEATBALLS WITH CELERY ROOT AND CARROTS

DUCK AND WHITE BEAN CHOLENT

HERBED BEEF CHOLENT WITH ONION GONIFS

GARLICKY LAMB AND LIMA HAMIN WITH LITTLE EGGPLANT BOATS

ISRAELI SALAD

RHUBARB-PRUNE TSIMMES

SPINACH CHEESE SQUARES

KASHA VARNISHKES WITH FRIED EGGPLANT, MUSHROOMS, AND ONION MARMALADE

ONION-CRUSTED LIGHT POTATO KUGEL

FRESH CORN KUGEL

SAUTÉED CABBAGE AND GARLIC NOODLE KUGEL

JEWELED BROWN RICE

DRIED FRUIT COMPOTE WITH FRESH PINEAPPLE, PISTACHIOS, AND MINT

JEWISH SAUTÉED APPLE CAKE

ROASTED APPLE–WALNUT NOODLE KUGEL

UPSIDE-DOWN CARAMEL-CRANBERRY-PECAN NOODLE KUGEL

CLASSIC NOODLE KUGEL

CLASSIC CHALLAH

YIELD: 2 MEDIUM LOAVES

Bread has always been the heart of the Jewish meal. When the benediction over the bread is made, it is unnecessary to recite prayers over any of the other foods eaten.The exception is the Kiddush, the blessing chanted over wine that introduces every Sabbath and important holiday. At these times the challah is covered with a white cloth, some say to protect it from embarrassment at seeing the wine blessed first. The two uncut loaves of challah on the Sabbath table echo the double portion of manna God provided to the wandering Israelites before each weekly Sabbath. The seeds usually sprinkled on the braided breads before baking symbolize the manna enveloped with dew to keep it fresh-tasting for the following day.

After the motzi (bread blessing) is recited, some families slice the challah and others quite literally “break bread”—tearing off knobs of the twisted bread with their fingers, rather than cutting it with a knife. They remember the verse in Exodus 20:22 comparing a metal knife to an instrument of war and don’t wish to profane the newly blessed loaf.

Then everyone eats a piece of the egg-rich bread and the Sabbath dinner begins.

2 envelopes (1⁄4 ounce each) active dry yeast

1⁄4 cup plus 1 teaspoon sugar

1⁄4 cup mild olive, avocado, or other favorite mild oil, plus additional for greasing the bowl, plastic wrap, and baking sheet

2 large eggs

2 teaspoons table salt (not coarse salt)

4 to 5 cups bread flour, plus additional for dusting the work surface, kneading, and shaping the dough

For the Topping

1 large egg lightly beaten with 1 teaspoon water

Poppy or sesame seeds (optional)

HAVE all ingredients, except topping, at room temperature.

POUR 1 cup warm water (100 to 110°F) into a food processor fitted with a steel blade. Sprinkle the yeast over the water and add 1 teaspoon of the sugar. Allow the mixture to dissolve and proof, 5 to 10 minutes.

ADD the remaining 1⁄4 cup sugar, the oil, eggs, and salt to the yeast mixture. Pulse for a few moments to combine. Add the flour, 1 cup at a time, pulsing briefly after each addition. After you’ve added 4 cups, process briefly until the dough forms a ball around the blade. (If the dough seems too moist, add additional flour in small increments through the feed tube until the sides of the processor bowl are clean but the dough still appears to be a little sticky.) Continue processing for 2 to 3 more minutes to knead the dough until it is smooth and elastic.

FORM the dough into a ball and place it in a greased bowl. Cover with greased plastic wrap. Allow the dough to rise in a warm, draft-free place until double in bulk, 2 to 3 hours. (Or start the bread the day before you plan to bake it, and let the dough rise slowly overnight in the refrigerator. Allow it to come back to room temperature before proceeding.) To test whether the bread has fully risen, gently press it with a fingertip. If the indentation remains, the dough has risen sufficiently.

PUNCH the dough down, then let it rise a second time until double in bulk, about 2 hours.

PUNCH the dough down again and divide it into six equal pieces. Using your palms, roll the pieces into identical ropes about 10 inches long. Braid the ropes into two loaves, using three ropes for each loaf. An easy way to do this evenly is to start the braid in the middle, braid to one end, then turn the loaf upside down and braid to the other end. Turn the ends under and press down to keep them joined together.

TRANSFER to a greased baking sheet. Apply the first coat of egg wash (reserve the rest), brushing it all over. Cover with greased plastic wrap and allow to rise for a third time until double in bulk, about 1 hour.

PREHEAT the oven to 350°F. Mix about 2 tablespoons of poppy or sesame seeds, if using, into the remaining egg wash. (If omitting seeds, apply the plain second egg wash glaze.) When the loaves have risen, brush the glaze over the top. Bake about 35 minutes on the middle rack, until the loaves are golden brown and sound hollow when tapped on the bottom. Transfer to a rack and let cool, or remove from the baking sheet and place directly on the oven rack to cool in the oven with the door left ajar.

COOK’S NOTE: You can flavor the bread with ground spices, such as cinnamon or cardamom (about 2 teaspoons); fresh herbs, such as chopped dill (up to 1⁄4 cup) or rosemary (no more than 3 tablespoons); or a hint of tarragon paired, perhaps, with aniseed or fennel seeds sprinkled on top instead of poppy seeds. Add the spices or herbs when you add the oil, etc., to the yeast. Another tasty variation: sprinkle lightly with coarse salt instead of, or in addition to, the seeds.

MARY’S ONION CHALLAH

YIELD: 2 MEDIUM LOAVES

Though he lived to be 94, my grandfather never tasted an ice cream that could match the ones he remembered buying from the old Turkish vendor back in Minsk or Smolensk before he arrived in New York at age 12.

He taught me a valuable food lesson: our most cherished food memories inevitably lead to disappointment. Perhaps that is because our culinary selves are constantly evolving—we taste the world with a different tongue at various times in our lives. Or maybe no real food could ever live up to one garnished with the patina of memory, burnished with age.

For me, with Ratner’s oniony egg rolls, it was a little of both. In the years since the demise of the beloved dairy restaurant on Delancey Street on the Lower East Side, I’ve tasted many versions of the rolls, some purportedly made exactly according to the recipe published in The World-Famous Ratner’s Meatless Cookbook. None excited the way the oniony little breads, smeared with cold sweet butter, did.

To paraphrase, the fault was not with the rolls, but with me that they were underlings. What I was after was far more oniony and buttery-tasting than the rolls had ever been.

My good friend Dr. Mary McLarnon, a consummate baker, had never tasted Ratner’s onion rolls, but as I explained the taste memories that I wanted this book’s challah to channel (challah and Jewish egg rolls are often made from the same rich dough), her blue eyes lit up. Since the bread had to be pareve, we talked about doing a triple rise to achieve the butteriness. A few days later, Mary dropped off two fragrant loaves for us to taste.

Not satisfied, Mary kept working on ways to boost the onion flavor until it tasted as incredibly aromatic as it smelled. The touch of cumin, reminiscent of Alsatian-Jewish bakeries, somehow made it more buttery.

Finally Mary brought two more loaves when Alex was home for Thanksgiving vacation. There were five of us that night—Alex, her boyfriend, my brother, my husband, and me—and we polished off every crumb.

It wasn’t Ratner’s onion roll. It was better.

2 large yellow onions, peeled and cut into coarse chunks (about 1^1⁄2 pounds)

3 large garlic cloves, peeled and quartered

1 cup onion-garlic liquid (reserved from recipe)

2 envelopes (1⁄4 ounce each) active dry yeast

1 teaspoon plus 1⁄4 cup sugar

1⁄4 cup plus 2 tablespoons mild olive oil

2 large eggs

Table salt

2 teaspoons ground cumin, preferably freshly toasted

4 to 5 cups plus 1 tablespoon bread flour, plus additional for dusting the work surface, kneading, and shaping the dough

Coarse salt

Oil for greasing the bowl, plastic wrap, and baking sheet

1 large egg lightly beaten with 1 teaspoon water, for glaze

HAVE all ingredients, except glaze, at room temperature.

IN a food processor, pulse the onions and garlic until finely chopped but not pureed. Drape a damp, thin kitchen towel or double thickness of cheesecloth over a strainer set in a bowl. Scrape the onion-garlic mixture onto the cloth, gather the ends of the cloth together, and twist and wring until you have squeezed as much liquid as possible into the bowl, reserving it. Set aside the onion-garlic mixture. Don’t bother to wash out the food processor.

MEASURE the reserved onion-garlic liquid, adding enough plain water, if necessary, so that you have 1 cup. Warm the liquid to 100 to 110°F, and add it to the food processor. Sprinkle the yeast over the liquid, add 1 teaspoon of sugar, and allow the mixture to dissolve and proof, 5 to 10 minutes.

ADD 1⁄4 cup oil, the remaining 1⁄4 cup sugar, the eggs, 2 teaspoons table salt, and cumin. Pulse for a few moments to combine. Add the flour, 1 cup at a time, pulsing briefly after each addition. After you’ve added 4 cups, process briefly until the dough forms a ball around the blade. (If the dough seems too moist, add additional flour in small increments through the feed tube until the sides of the processor bowl are clean but the dough still appears to be a little sticky.) Continue processing for 2 to 3 more minutes to knead the dough until smooth and elastic.

SHAPE the dough into a ball and place it in a greased bowl. Cover with greased plastic wrap. Allow the dough to rise in a warm draft-free place until double in bulk, 2 to 3 hours. (You can begin the bread the day before you plan to bake it, and let the dough rise slowly overnight in the refrigerator. Bring the dough back to room temperature before continuing.) To test whether the bread has fully risen, gently press it with a fingertip. If the dent remains, the dough is ready.

WHILE the bread is rising, warm the remaining 2 tablespoons oil in a large heavy skillet over medium heat. Add the reserved chopped onion and garlic, salt lightly, and cook uncovered over low heat, stirring occasionally, until very soft, up to 40 minutes. Raise the heat to medium, and continue cooking, lifting and turning, until golden and caramelized and all pan liquid has been absorbed. If necessary, turn the heat up to high for a few moments and cook, stirring, just until the pan liquid disappears. Cool the mixture to room temperature.

PUNCH the dough down. Now, using your hands or a floured rolling pin, gently flatten the dough and shape it into a circle about 3⁄4-inch thick. In a small bowl, mix about three-quarters of the caramelized onion mixture with 1 tablespoon flour, and spread it over the dough, leaving a 1-inch margin. Sprinkle lightly with the coarse salt. Fold in the edges and reform the dough into a ball. Sprinkling with more flour as necessary, knead for 1 to 2 minutes to lightly incorporate the onions into the dough. Let the dough rise a second time until double in bulk, about 2 hours.

PUNCH the dough down and divide it into six equal pieces. Using your palms, roll the pieces into identical ropes about 10 inches long. Braid the ropes into two loaves, using three ropes for each loaf. An easy way to do this evenly is to start the braid in the middle, braid to one end, then turn the loaf upside down and braid to the other end. Turn the ends under and press down to keep them joined together.

IF you find the dough is difficult to work because the onions push through to the surface, you can shape it into two turbans instead: divide the dough into two pieces. With your palms, roll each piece into a long rope, thicker at one end. Holding the thicker end on the work surface with one hand, with the other hand spiral the rope around the thick end, forming a turban. Tuck the end of the rope under the edge to hold in place.

TRANSFER to a greased baking sheet. Apply the first coat of egg wash (reserve the rest), brushing it all over. Cover with greased plastic wrap and allow to rise for a third time until double in bulk, about 1 hour. Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 350°F.

MIX the remaining caramelized onions into the remaining egg wash. When the loaves have risen, brush the egg wash–onion mixture over the top. Just before placing in the oven, sprinkle lightly with coarse salt. Bake for about 35 minutes on the middle rack, until the loaves are golden brown and sound hollow when tapped on the bottom. Transfer to a rack and let cool, or remove from the baking sheet and place directly on the oven rack to cool with the oven door left ajar.

COOK’S NOTE: For a subtly spicier flavor, season the caramelized onion liberally with freshly ground black pepper.

Make sure the cloth you use to strain the onions has been washed only in unscented detergent. I use inexpensive men’s cotton handkerchiefs—they’re great for this and similar kitchen chores.

Not through Proust or Camus, Colette, or Chanel. Not even through French food. I became a Francophile early by way of Toni Home Permanents.

On Sunday nights in the days before cream rinse, my mother attempted to distract me as she wielded her comb through the chewing gum, wisteria blossoms, and web-like tangles that inhabited my hair. And she had to find a way to keep me cooperative through the longer process of applying vile-smelling lotion to my unfashionably straight locks, then rolling them up in the doll-size pink rubber curlers that left me with hair like stiff radish sprouts. So she taught me French.

And I loved it. I loved the way the words sounded. I loved her accent. Later on, I learned she mispronounced half the words, her definitions were off, her accent execrable. No matter. I loved her, and because of her, I loved everything French.

I didn’t get to France until I finished college, but after that I returned as frequently as my finances would allow. One of my favorite areas was the former Jewish ghetto around the rue des Rosiers, now the site of some very à la mode designer boutiques and a number of stores still selling Judaica as well as Ashkenazi and Sephardi foods.

On one visit, I took my daughter to Sacha Finkelstajn, an Eastern European delicatessen with a refined Gallic touch. As in the cave of a grand chateau de vins, the vendeuses ply you with generous samples until you finally decide what to purchase. The spicy golden onion rolls are ethereal, and the chopped herring is whipped to a mousse-like froth and garnished with delicate lingonberries. But to Alexandra, my husband, and me, the silken chopped liver is the finest of the treasures.

Unfortunately, Blueberry, our little Yorkie-poodle, devoured the sandwiches in the car while we were out touring Monet’s gardens at Giverny. We returned to Paris the next Passover and this time we left Blueberry home. I had written to the patronne at Finkelstajn’s for the recipe but received no response. Now I pleaded with her but non she never gave it out. “Just one ingredient. What makes it so airy, what packs that subtle bite?” I persisted. Little by little, she told me things. There was no secret ingredient. It was simply a matter of proportion. Then she drew me a diagram: equal amounts of liver, egg, and onion, plus sufficient oil to make it creamy. And another diagram of the onions: two-thirds sautéed lightly, one-third raw. Simple Cartesian logic.

Haunted by the taste memory, I weighed it out at home and came up with this recipe, much eggier than more familiar versions. For all of us, it has become an edible souvenir of our beloved Paris.

CHOPPED CHICKEN LIVER FROM THE RUE DES ROSIERS

YIELD: 6 TO 9 GENEROUS APPETIZER SERVINGS

This luscious chopped liver relies on perfectly cooked hard-boiled eggs: tender and moist, without chalky greenish yolks or tough, rubbery whites. For a foolproof method for preparing them: place the eggs in a heavy saucepan large enough to accommodate them in a single layer. Add 1⁄2 teaspoon salt (to prevent cracking) and enough cold water to cover them by at least 2 inches. Partially cover the pan and bring the water to a full boil over medium heat. Immediately turn off the heat. Then cover the pan, remove it from the heat, and allow the eggs to stand for 15 minutes. Pour off the water and cover the eggs with fresh, cold water, to prevent further cooking, until they are cool. To remove the shells easily, peel the eggs under cold running water or submerge in a bowl of very cold water.

7 large eggs

Approximately 6 tablespoons olive oil or 3 tablespoons olive oil plus approximately 3 tablespoons Olive Oil Schmaltz or Poultry Schmaltz

1 pound onions, diced (about 4 cups)

Coarse salt

1 pound fresh (not previously frozen) chicken livers, rinsed, fat and any green spots removed

Freshly ground black pepper

Accompaniments: soft lettuce, Belgian endive, or radicchio leaves; radishes, scallions, ripe tomatoes, black olives; matzoh; Grated Black Radish and Endive Salad in Shallot Vinaigrette

PREHEAT the broiler.

HARD-BOIL the eggs, cool, and peel them. Cut the eggs into eighths.

IN a 10-inch heavy skillet, heat 3 tablespoons oil over medium heat. Add 2^2⁄3 cups of the onions, sprinkle lightly with salt, and cook, stirring from time to time, until soft and rich gold, about 15 minutes. Do not let the onions brown or they will make the texture chewy.

MEANWHILE, prepare the liver: line the broiler rack with either heavy brown paper sprinkled with water or foil. Pat the livers dry with paper towels, and spread them out on the broiler rack. Sprinkle them lightly with salt and broil about 4 inches from the flame until lightly browned on top, 3 to 4 minutes. Turn, sprinkle the other side with salt, and broil for another 3 to 4 minutes. Add the broiled livers to the onions in the skillet, season generously with salt and pepper to taste, and sauté for about 1 minute, tossing and turning the ingredients. Let cool slightly.

TRANSFER the contents of the skillet to a food processor and pulse on and off to chop coarsely. Add the eggs and 1 tablespoon of oil or schmaltz. Pulse. Add the remaining 1^1⁄3 cups raw onion and pulse on and off a few more times until the desired texture is achieved. I prefer it slightly coarse—a rustic rather than a fine-textured pâté, but some like a smooth spread. (Alternatively, you can chop all the ingredients by hand in a wooden bowl with a hand chopper. Chop the liver and sautéed onions first, then add eggs and additional oil or schmaltz. Finally, add the raw onions and chop again.)

SCRAPE the mixture into a large bowl. Adjust the seasoning and add 1 to 2 tablespoons (or to taste) more oil or schmaltz as needed to make it moist and rich. Mix again so the ingredients are well combined. Refrigerate covered until thoroughly chilled.

SERVE cold, on lettuce, radicchio, or alternating green and red Belgian endive leaves for an elegant presentation. Or pack the chopped liver into small custard cups or cleaned tuna cans and invert onto frilly greens. Accompany the liver with the suggested vegetables and breads. It is terrific served with a condiment of grated black radish. Or stir crunchy chopped red radish into the liver just before serving.

GRATED BLACK RADISH AND ENDIVE SALAD IN SHALLOT VINAIGRETTE

YIELD: ABOUT 6 SERVINGS

1⁄2 pound black radish (available at many greengrocers, specialty and ethnic markets, and some well-stocked supermarkets)

Coarse kosher salt

1⁄3 cup finely chopped shallots

About 1 tablespoon plus 2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice

1⁄4 teaspoon grated lemon zest

About 4 tablespoons best-quality extra virgin olive oil, Olive Oil Schmaltz, or Poultry Schmaltz

Freshly ground black pepper

2 small Belgian endives

2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley, preferably flat-leaf

PEEL the radish and grate it coarsely in a food processor or use the large holes of a hand grater. Place in a colander or strainer, sprinkle with about 1 tablespoon salt, and mix well. Weight the radish down with a plate and heavy object like a can of tomatoes, and allow to drain for about 1 hour, stirring it around every 15 to 20 minutes. Squeeze all moisture from the radish, rinse with fresh water, and squeeze thoroughly dry again. (It’s easiest to do this using your hands.)

MEANWHILE, in a small bowl, combine the shallots, lemon juice, zest, and olive oil or schmaltz; season well with salt and pepper. Stir in the grated radish and allow the flavors to unfold and mingle for at least 20 minutes.

CUT the endives into fine shreds, then toss with the grated radish and shallot mixture. Taste and adjust seasonings (it takes quite a bit of salt), adding more oil or schmaltz and lemon juice as needed. Sprinkle with the parsley. Serve with Chopped Chicken Liver from the Rue des Rosiers, Chopped Chicken Liver with Caramelized Onions, or Chopped Eggs and Onions.

CLASSIC CHICKEN SOUP

YIELD: 2^1⁄2 TO 3 QUARTS

One 5- to 6-pound fowl or stewing hen (not a roaster) and its giblets (reserve the liver for another use)

2 chicken feet or 1 pound chicken wings

4 quarts cold water (quality is important here so if you use bottled water to make coffee or tea, use it here)

Salt

2 large onions, 1 peeled and quartered, 1 washed and roots trimmed but left unpeeled, and quartered

2 parsnips, scraped and cut into chunks

3 celery stalks, cut into large chunks

1⁄2 cup celery leaves

5 large carrots, scraped and halved

2 or 3 garlic cloves, peeled

6 fresh parsley sprigs, preferably flat-leaf

1 parsley root (petrouchka), peeled and cut into chunks, optional (often found in greenmarkets and specialty stores, as well as supermarkets with well-stocked produce departments)

2 large leeks, trimmed (reserve long green leaves), washed of all traces of sand and cut into large pieces, or

1 sweet red onion, peeled and quartered

10 to 12 peppercorns, lightly crushed

1 Turkish bay leaf

Several leaves of mild-flavored lettuce such as Boston or iceberg, if no leek greens are available

About 1⁄2 cup snipped fresh dill

Accompaniments: kreplach, matzoh balls, cooked fine egg noodles, rice, or kasha

PREPARE the chicken: I find it easier to work with the chicken when it is cut up, so I divide it roughly into quarters. Remove all visible fat from the chicken and giblets. Remove the skin from the neck and the neck and tail openings. Wash all the pieces thoroughly, including feet or wings, and place in your largest stockpot, which should be tall and straight-sided. Add the water and about 1^1⁄2 teaspoons of salt to begin with.

TURN the heat to medium and bring to a simmer. As the soup cooks, keep skimming off any scum and fat that rise to the surface. When the soup begins to “smile,” that is, tiny bubbles open and close along the edge of the pot, turn the heat down to very low. Skim the soup constantly; at this point, you really need to fret over it. When the soup is just about clear, add the onions, parsnips, celery stalks and leaves, carrots, garlic, parsley sprigs, parsley root, leeks, peppercorns, and bay leaf, and raise the heat slightly to bring it back to a simmer. Continue skimming any froth or scum.

WHEN the soup is again clear, turn the heat down as low as possible. Cover the surface of the soup with the leek greens or lettuce leaves, and put the pot lid on, leaving it slightly askew. Simmer the soup for at least 2^1⁄2 to 4 hours longer—overnight is better still. (Some cooks simmer their soup in a 200°F oven overnight.) Never let the soup boil; if necessary, use a blech (flame tamer), or put it on top of two burner grates stacked together. (But do make sure the bubbles are breaking very gently on the surface. If there is no surface movement at all, the soup might spoil.)

ADJUST the seasonings. Using a slotted spoon, remove the chicken and carrots and set aside. Let the soup cool to room temperature in the pot, uncovered. (Hot soup in a covered pot may turn sour.)

WHILE the soup is cooling, pick over the reserved chicken and discard the bones, skin, and other inedible parts. Reserve the chicken for another use or refrigerate along with the carrots to serve in the soup.

STRAIN the cooled soup through a fine-mesh sieve, pressing down on all the vegetables to extract as much of their juices as you can, then discard the vegetables.

REFRIGERATE the soup covered overnight, or until all the remaining fat has congealed on the top. Carefully scrape off the fat and discard it. If the soup still seems fatty, line the sieve with a layer of paper towels and pour the soup through it into a clean bowl or pot (if the soup has jelled from chilling, bring it to room temperature first). If the paper towels become thickly coated with fat, you might want to change them once or twice during the process.

BEFORE serving, reheat the soup. Taste for salt and pepper and add lots of fresh snipped dill. If you feel the soup is not strong enough, reduce it over high heat to concentrate the flavors. Serve the soup very hot, with additional fresh dill, the reserved carrots, and, if desired, shreds of the soup chicken. It is delicious with kreplach, matzoh balls, egg noodles, rice, kasha, or just plain.

From Maimonides on, much has been made of the curative powers of Jewish chicken soup—“Jewish penicillin,” “the doctor that makes house calls,” and so on. Now, it seems, the doctor often needs “doctoring”—and not just in America. A friend in Verona, Italy, confessed that Italian Jews at times enhance their homemade soups with imported Israeli bouillon cubes for a needed jolt of flavor.

Broth is no more than the simmered essence of its ingredients, and the problem here, of course, is the weakened flavor of the chicken itself. Traditional Jewish chicken soup was always made from a tough old hen with plenty of character. Today’s battery-feeding produces picture-pretty birds with lots of fat and little flavor. So how do you coax out enough flavor from a lackluster bird to make a splendid soup?

Over the years I’ve gleaned some trucs for preparing excellent Jewish chicken soup.

1. Start with the best-quality fowl you can find; kosher chickens make especially clear, flavorful soup, and organic kosher chickens are now available. If at all possible, buy feet, or at least some extra wings, to give the soup extra body. I find that although chicken backs are fine for making chicken stock, they are too fatty and lack the requisite clarity of flavor for a soup meant to be served solo. It may seem extravagant to use a large hen for soup—after all, the cooked chicken cannot be served later as an entree (you’ve already extracted all the flavor from it). However, the meat is perfectly good for chicken salad, sandwiches, Fried Onion and Chicken Kreplach, and Dayenu, or served cut up in soup. Or prepare Chicken Latkes: combine coarsely shredded or chopped chicken with sautéed onions (garlic and mushrooms too, if desired), eggs, fresh herbs, and matzoh meal or soaked and drained challah. Season well, form into little cakes or drop by heaping tablespoons into hot oil. Fry over medium-high heat until golden-brown on both sides.

2. To compensate for the often anemic taste of today’s chickens, I add lots and lots of earthy, aromatic vegetables to provide the soup with strength and character.

3. It’s a struggle, but I resist the temptation to use a lot of water. And if the soup tastes too watery when I’m finished, I reduce it as much as necessary, even though it pains me to see the fruits of all my labor just boiling away.

4. Long, slow cooking will extract every bit of flavor from both chicken and vegetables. Using a huge stockpot—a 20- or even 24-quart size, far larger than the contents would warrant—and a tiny flame, so there is no danger of the soup boiling, I cook it for at least four hours, and more often overnight.

5. To prepare the chicken, I remove every bit of fat and some of the excess skin, since they don’t add any flavor and later I’ll just have to discard the grease they produce.

6. Skim, skim, skim. Froth and scum taste bitter and look terrible.

7. To prevent the precious flavors from evaporating, after I have finished skimming the soup, I cover the surface with a layer of the green part of the leeks used in the soup. If I have no leeks, I use the outer leaves of a mild lettuce.

8. And lastly, I never bring the soup to a boil. That roiling bubble action traps fat and scum beneath the surface, bonding them to the liquid, so that the soup becomes clouded, murky, and impossible to clarify. Instead, I let it simmer gently for the entire cooking period, “smiling,” as the French say of the tiny bubbles that open and close along the edge of the pot. (Boiling the finished soup—strained and defatted—to reduce it is, of course, another matter.)

TWO CLASSIC MATZOH BALL RECIPES

YIELD: 6 TO 8 SERVINGS

Featherweight matzoh balls so delicate they quiver when you sigh—these are not the stuff our dreams are made on. My family prefers matzoh balls with a rich flavor you can really taste, buttery and light-textured, but not so fluffy you might as well be eating scrambled eggs. I’ve experimented with many slight variations, including my grandmother’s addition of club soda, and for years relied on the standard, back-of-the-matzoh-meal-box recipe that called for a few tablespoons of broth stirred into the batter. This recipe, using slightly more of the flavorful fat and no liquid at all, is our hands-down favorite. On the very rare occasions when we have any left over, we enjoy them heated up with a bit of broth or sautéed (chill them before frying so they don’t fall apart) and served as a side dish, with or without gravy.

4 large eggs

1 recipe Olive Oil Schmaltz (see Cook’s Note) or 6 tablespoons Poultry Schmaltz or, less desirably, 6 tablespoons mild olive or avocado oil (the fat should be at room temperature)

4 teaspoons grated onion

1 cup matzoh meal (you can substitute up to 1⁄4 cup finely ground skinned almonds for an equal quantity of the matzoh meal)

1 teaspoon baking powder (optional; see Cook’s Note)

Kosher salt

Freshly ground black pepper

Up to 4 tablespoons finely minced fresh herbs (dill, chives, parsley, or a combination) and/or 2 pinches of ground ginger (optional)

IN a large bowl, beat the eggs and schmaltz or oil until well blended and thick. Whisk in the onions. Mix together the matzoh meal, baking powder, if using, salt (figure about 1^1⁄2 teaspoons), and pepper to taste, and stir into the egg mixture. Stir in the optional seasonings, if using. Cover the mixture and refrigerate for at least 2 hours or up to 24 hours, so the matzoh meal can fully absorb the liquids and seasoning.

BRING 4 quarts water and 1^1⁄2 tablespoons salt to a boil in a large, wide pot with a lid.

THE balls formed from the soft batter may not hold their shape well, especially those made without baking powder. Not to worry: they will be very tender. Shape the batter into walnut- or olive-size balls, and place on a platter. When the water comes to a rapid boil, reduce the heat a bit. Carefully slide the balls in one at a time. Or you can form the balls using two spoons and drop them right into the water. Don’t crowd the pot—if necessary, prepare the matzoh balls in two batches or use two pots. When the water returns to a gentle boil, immediately cover the pot tightly and lower the heat to a simmer. Cook for 35 to 45 minutes, without removing the lid. (They will cook by direct heat as well as by steam, which makes them swell up—lifting the lid will reduce some of that steam.) Test for doneness: remove a matzoh ball and cut it in half. It should be tender, fluffy, and completely cooked through. If it isn’t, continue cooking for a few more minutes.

REMOVE the matzoh balls gently with a skimmer or a large slotted spoon—they are too fragile to pour into a colander. To serve, heat the chicken soup, add the matzoh balls, and simmer until they are heated through. (Don’t eliminate this vital step: matzoh balls cooked in water need to absorb some of the soup’s flavor—see Cook’s Note.) Ladle into warmed shallow bowls and serve immediately. Or cover the drained matzoh balls with some broth and set aside for a few hours until you are ready to heat them.

COOK’S NOTE: Olive Oil Schmaltz, a puree of oil-stewed onions, provides not only flavor but also a texture approximating a semisolid fat, which makes the matzoh balls fluffy and light. If you want a tasty substitute other than poultry fat, similar aromatic blends such as purees of roasted garlic or mushrooms sautéed or braised until soft, combined with some oil (add a chopped fresh herb, for extra flavor, if you’d like) also work well. And I’ve made exquisite matzoh balls using the above recipe but substituting 1⁄3 cup jarred artichoke puree mixed with 2 tablespoons olive oil for the schmaltz. For another delicious variation, see the Roasted Fennel Matzoh Balls.

For an acceptable Poultry Schmaltz substitute, some cooks reserve the congealed fat scraped from the top of chilled chicken soup and supplement it with oil, if needed.

I make this recipe without baking powder on Passover. I think of it here as insurance—with it, you are much less likely to experience serious Knaidlach Failure: matzoh balls that fall apart, that won’t swell up, that are too tight or too tough. When carefully prepared, however, these matzoh balls made without baking powder will be tender and buttery tasting, too. To keep them light and fluffy, remember not to lift the lid at all until you suspect they are ready, that is, not before at least 35 minutes have elapsed.

Though cooking the matzoh balls in broth would make them very flavorful, it would also cloud the broth. So I cook them in well-salted water, then let them simmer in broth for a while, drinking in its rich taste.

A very close runner up, this matzoh ball—eggier and a little more delicate in flavor and texture—calls for separating the eggs. Have all ingredients at room temperature.

4 large eggs, separated

Kosher salt

1⁄4 cup Olive Oil Schmaltz or 3 tablespoons Poultry Schmaltz or, less desirably, 3 tablespoons mild olive or avocado oil

Freshly ground black pepper

4 teaspoons grated onion

Up to 4 tablespoons finely minced fresh herbs (dill, chives, parsley, or a combination) and/or 2 pinches of ground ginger (optional)

1 cup matzoh meal

IN a large bowl, beat the egg whites with a pinch of salt until they hold peaks that are stiff but not dry. In another bowl, beat the yolks with the fat, about 1^1⁄2 teaspoons salt, or to taste, and a little pepper, until thick and creamy. Whisk in the onion and seasonings, if using. Fold the whites into the yolk mixture until just combined. Slowly and gently fold in the matzoh meal. Cover the mixture and refrigerate for at least 2 hours or up to 24 hours, so the matzoh meal can fully absorb the liquids and seasoning.

FOLLOW the directions above for poaching, draining, and serving the matzoh balls.

I was stumped by the name Dayenu that Ester Silvana Israel, avid cook and secretary of the Jewish community of Verona, Italy, used for matzoh balls—either traditional Ashkenazi knaidlach or more uniquely Italian kinds, incorporating bits of chicken or other meats.

I questioned her as we walked through the pink marble columns of her exquisite synagogue. Smiling, she wondered whether I remembered the song from the Passover service?

“Of course,” I replied. “Each miracle God performed would have been dayenu (enough); each would have sufficed to show God’s love. Nothing else was necessary.”

“Well, so too with the matzoh balls,” she explained. “Each one is so filling it would be enough; each could suffice for the entire meal. But there is always more and still more yet to come.”

I’ve given two recipes for matzoh balls here. To make Dayenu, matzoh balls Italian-style, add up to three-quarters cup cooked chicken, finely shredded and then cut into bits, to these recipes. For additional matzoh ball recipes, including ground chicken matzoh balls, dumplings made of whole matzoh instead of matzoh meal, and a wonderful herbed matzoh ball made with no fat other than what’s in the egg yolks, see the index.

FRIED ONION AND CHICKEN KREPLACH

YIELD: ABOUT 30 KREPLACH

Throughout this book, onions are cooked in many ways, depending on the texture and taste desired—soft and sweet, rich and caramelized, golden and crispy. In this recipe, they are salted first to draw out the moisture and then fried. If you are pressed for time or don’t want to bother, omit the soaking and fry the onions a little longer over medium heat.

Using a high proportion of savory fried onion to the chicken ensures that the filling for the kreplach won’t be dry—even if the chicken left its flavor in the soup pot.

2 large onions, very thinly sliced (about 4 cups)

Coarse kosher salt

1 cup cooked chicken (use light and dark meat; leftover from preparing chicken soup is fine)

A few tablespoons of chicken broth

2 tablespoons mild olive or canola oil

1 large garlic clove, minced

1 large egg, lightly beaten

1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh dill

Freshly ground black pepper

About 30 wonton wrappers (have some extra in case of tearing)

Egg wash (1 to 2 large eggs, as needed, each beaten with 1 teaspoon water)

Accompaniments: Classic Chicken Soup, gravy, fried onions, or mushrooms from Mishmash Kreplach

SEPARATE the onions into rings. To draw out the moisture, toss in a bowl with 1^1⁄2 teaspoons salt. Set aside for about 20 minutes, stirring from time to time. Then place the onions between sheets of paper towels, pressing down to soak up as much onion water as possible.

MEANWHILE, prepare the chicken: roughly shred it (preferably using your fingers, so you can easily find any little bits of gristle or bone) and place in a bowl. If the chicken is very dry—usually the case if you are using chicken left over from making soup—spoon some broth over it, mix well, and let it drink in the liquid for at least 15 minutes.

HEAT the oil in a large heavy skillet over medium-high heat. Add the onions, and keep tossing with a spatula as they soften and begin to turn golden, about 10 minutes. Stir in the garlic and continue cooking and turning, until the mixture is a deep caramel color, but before it turns crispy, about 5 minutes.

STIR the onions into the chicken and let cool slightly. Add the egg, dill, and salt and pepper to taste. Refrigerate the mixture, covered, for at least 1 hour.

FILL and trim the kreplach (see Wonton Wrappers), using about 1 heaping teaspoon of filling per krepl, folding into a tight triangle, and sealing with the egg wash.

POACH the kreplach. In a large, very wide pot, bring at least 5 quarts of lightly salted water to a boil. Slip in the kreplach, one by one, being careful not to overcrowd the pot (if necessary, cook them in batches or use two pots). Lower the temperature slightly (the kreplach might explode if the water is boiling furiously) and poach until tender, 3 to 6 minutes (exact time will depend on the brand of wonton wrapper used). Lift out the kreplach, a few at a time, with a large skimmer, gently shaking the skimmer so the water drains back into the pot (they are too fragile to pour into a colander).

SERVE the kreplach in soup. Or serve poached or sautéed kreplach with gravy, fried onions, or fried mushrooms as a side dish or appetizer.

CHEATER’S CHICKEN IN THE POT AND ALMOST-HOMEMADE SOUP

YIELD: 6 TO 8 SERVINGS

When I want chicken broth that tastes homemade, but haven’t time enough to prepare it, I turn to this recipe. It produces a broth fine enough for a festive dinner or soothing elixir and excellent, silky poached chicken.

Serve the soup and chicken together plain, or for a substantial chicken-in-the-pot, embellish with matzoh balls, cooked rice, or other starches.

You can also present the tender chicken as a separate course, moistened with a little broth and accompanied by coarse salt, horseradish, and pickles. Or reserve it for chicken salad or other dishes that call for poached chicken.

8 cups good-quality, low-sodium purchased chicken broth

6 sprigs fresh flat-leaf parsley and/or a few celery leaves

1 small onion, peeled and sliced

1 medium carrot, scraped and coarsely chopped, plus 1^1⁄2 cups scraped carrots cut into bite-size chunks or 2-inch lengths

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken breasts, well trimmed of fat and sinews

1 cup peeled young turnips and/or 1 cup peeled parsnips, diced or cut into bite-size chunks

2 tablespoons chopped fresh dill, plus additional for garnish

Optional accompaniments: for the soup, matzoh balls; cooked egg noodles, rice, kasha, kreplach; or red new potatoes, boiled until tender; for the chicken, coarse salt, horseradish, sour pickles

CHOOSE a lidded, deep skillet large enough to accommodate all the chicken in one layer. Add about 5 cups of the broth, the parsley and/or celery leaves, onion, and chopped carrot and bring to a boil. Adjust the heat and simmer for 5 to 10 minutes to blend the flavors. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

ARRANGE the chicken in a single layer in the broth; if necessary, add more broth so that the chicken is completely immersed. Simmer gently, covered, for about 5 minutes. Turn off the flame, but don’t remove the lid or move the pot. Let the chicken rest for about 15 minutes, then check to see that it is just cooked through. If not, leave the chicken in the pot for a few more minutes, covered, without the heat on.

TRANSFER the chicken breasts to a deep dish, spoon some of the broth over to keep them moist, and tent with foil.

STRAIN the poaching liquid into a large saucepan and add the remaining broth. Bring to a boil, then stir in the remaining carrots, turnips, and parsnips, if using. Reduce the heat and cook until the vegetables are tender.

CUT the chicken into bite-size pieces and add to the soup, together with the dill and any starchy accompaniments you choose to serve, and warm until everything is heated through. Serve the soup in warmed bowls, sprinkled with more dill.

OR present the chicken separately, either as another course, along with coarse salt, horseradish, and pickles, if using, or at another meal.

CHILLED MINTED CUCUMBER SOUP

YIELD: ABOUT 8 SERVINGS

Utterly refreshing on a hot day or sultry evening, this gorgeous celadon soup makes a fine starter, or when served in attractive mugs or glasses, an unusual accompaniment to a summer Shabbat dinner or lunch or to a Shavuot meal. Or offer it in demitasse cups, a family collection of china teacups, or oversized shotglasses for a stunning break-the-fast drink on Yom Kippur.

The only cooking here is boiling water for the mint tea which, along with the yogurt, provides the structure of the soup and subtly underscores the fresh mint and dill flavoring. To make the soup richer, you can use all or some labneh or a combination of yogurt and sour cream as a substitute for the yogurt.

For a delicate garlic flavor without the back-of-the-throat harshness of the raw cloves, the garlic infuses the soup as it chills but is plucked out just before pureeing. To find the garlic easily, spear the cloves with toothpicks before you add them to the soup.

4 cups peeled, seeded, chopped cucumbers (scoop out the seeds with a spoon)

Coarse kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

4 garlic cloves, peeled and crushed

1 quart plain yogurt or labneh (4 cups), or a combination of labneh or sour cream and yogurt

3 cups freshly brewed mint tea (use caffeine-free herbal mint tea), cooled

1⁄3 cup fresh mint leaves, tightly packed, plus additional for garnish

1⁄4 cup fresh dill leaves

Best-quality extra virgin olive oil or a fine walnut or other nut oil (optional)

IN a large bowl, stir together the cucumbers, about 1^1⁄2 teaspoons salt and a few grindings of pepper. Add the garlic, then beat in the yogurt or labneh and tea. Cover and refrigerate for at least 4 hours.

SCOOP out the garlic and discard it. Stir in the mint and dill. Puree the soup in the blender in batches. (A food processor will not produce the same smooth texture). This soup tastes best a little salty, so adjust the seasoning.

IF serving the soup as a first course, ladle it into bowls and, if you like, dribble a bit of fine oil on top. To serve as a beverage accompaniment to a meal, spoon the soup into tall glasses or cups. Garnish with fresh mint leaves.

COOK’S NOTE: The soup can be prepared a day ahead. Puree, then return it to the refrigerator until ready to serve.

GEFILTE FISH QUICKLY STEAMED BETWEEN CABBAGE LEAVES

YIELD: ABOUT 8 SERVINGS

Inspired by the Chinese method for preparing tender, soft dumplings, I cushion these wonderfully delicate fish balls between cabbage leaves for a gentle twenty-minute steam bath. The wet vapor helps preserve all the subtle flavors of the fish while the nutty-sweet cabbage wrapper keeps it moist as it steams, and later as it chills without broth in the refrigerator.

The fish mixture here is particularly delicious. Extra egg yolks and a little pureed carrot and parsnip bring added flavor and a lush softness. No fish broth, but a bit of the liquid from cooking the sweet vegetables moistens the matzoh meal filler.

The result is gefilte fish brimful of flavor yet light and fresh tasting. To complement it, mellow the horseradish’s fire with some mayonnaise seasoned with fresh dill.

FOR THE FISH BALLS

1⁄3 cup diced, scraped carrots

1⁄3 cup diced, peeled parsnips

3 tablespoons matzoh meal

2 tablespoons mild olive or canola oil

1^1⁄2 cups coarsely chopped onion

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 tablespoon chopped shallots

2 tablespoons chopped fresh dill, plus 16 additional sprigs

2 pounds fish fillets, skin and any bones removed and discarded, rinsed to remove any scales, patted dry, and cut into 1-inch pieces; or 2 pounds fish ground by your fishmonger (see Cook’s Note)

2 large eggs

2 large egg yolks

2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

FOR THE DILL-HORSERADISH MAYONNAISE

1 cup mayonnaise

1⁄3 cup finely minced dill

1⁄3 cup plus 1 tablespoon prepared white horseradish, drained

About 12 large cabbage leaves, washed (you can use slightly imperfect or dark green outer leaves)

Soft lettuce leaves, endive, or radicchio, for lining plates

PREPARE the fish balls: in a small saucepan, bring 1 cup lightly salted water to a boil. Add the carrots and parsnips, and simmer until the vegetables are very tender. Drain, reserving the cooking water, and transfer the vegetables to a food processor. Put the matzoh meal in a small bowl and stir in 1⁄3 cup of the reserved cooking water. Let this mixture sit so that the matzoh meal can soften as it soaks in the liquid.

WARM the oil in an 8-inch skillet. Add the onions, sprinkle lightly with salt and pepper, and sauté, stirring, over medium heat until soft, shiny, and just beginning to color palest gold, 8 to 9 minutes. Don’t let them brown. Transfer the onions and any oil remaining in the skillet to the food processor. Add the shallots and the chopped dill to the food processor and puree until fairly smooth. Transfer the mixture to a large wooden chopping bowl or a wooden chopping board. (Don’t wash out the food processor if you are grinding your own fish.) If your fish is not ground, put it, about 2 teaspoons salt, and 1⁄8 teaspoon pepper in the food processor and pulse just until the mixture is chopped fine, but not pasty. Add the fish to the wooden bowl or board. (If you are using preground fish, add it now, seasoned with salt and pepper.) Add the matzoh meal mixture. Beat the eggs and yolks in a bowl until thick and lemon-colored. Using a hand chopper or cleaver, work the eggs and lemon juice into the fish mixture, a little at a time. (Hand-chopping at this point incorporates air into the mixture, making it lighter and fluffier than pulsing in the food processor.)

TEST for seasoning. Poach a teaspoon of the fish mixture in lightly salted boiling water for a few minutes. Taste and, if needed, add additional salt and pepper. Chill the fish mixture, covered, for at least 1 hour or up to 4 hours. It will be easier to mold and the fish balls will be fluffier.

WHILE the fish is chilling, combine the ingredients for the dill-horseradish mayonnaise. Cover and refrigerate.

STEAM the fish balls: you’ll need a large, wide pot such as a 5- to 6-quart Dutch oven or heavy casserole with a tight-fitting lid, and a rack that stands at least 2 inches high. (A simple round cake rack works well. If it is not high enough, set it over 2 custard cups or empty tuna cans in the pot.) Fill the pot with water to a depth of 1 inch.

LINE the rack with a layer of cabbage leaves. Form the fish mixture into 16 ovals, using a scant 1⁄4 cup for each, wetting your hands with cold water, if needed to work the sticky mixture. Depending on the variety of fish used, the mixture may be very soft but will firm up as it cooks and, later, as it chills. Bring the water in the pot to a boil. Gently put as many ovals on top of the cabbage leaves as will fit comfortably in a single layer without touching. Place a sprig of dill on each fish oval. Top the fish with another layer of cabbage leaves and cover the pot tightly. Turn the heat down to medium and steam for 20 to 25 minutes, until the ovals are completely cooked through at the center. (When steamed in raw cabbage leaves, the fish will probably take closer to 25 minutes; when steaming the second batch in the now-cooked cabbage leaves, it will probably take about 20 minutes.) Line a platter with some of the cooked cabbage leaves and carefully put the cooked fish on top of them. Using additional cabbage leaves as needed, cook any remaining fish ovals in the same way, transferring the fish as it is done to the cabbage-lined platter. Remove and discard the dill sprigs from all the ovals, and cover with a layer of cooked cabbage leaves to keep them moist. Let everything cool to room temperature. Wrap the platter with plastic wrap and chill the fish until cold.

FOR best flavor, serve the fish chilled but not icy cold. Remove the fish from the cabbage leaves and arrange attractively on platters or individual plates lined with lettuce, endive, or radicchio, and accompany with the dill-horseradish mayonnaise.

COOK’S NOTE: I like a combination of half salmon and half red snapper or lemon or grey sole. And I’ve made a terrific, plush-tasting gefilte fish with half Chilean sea bass and half flounder. Or use your own or your fishmonger’s favorite mixture. Avoid very strong-flavored fish like bluefish or mackerel. Be sure to use a combination of fat and lean fish.

MOROCCAN FISH WITH CHICKPEAS AND SAFFRON-LIME AIOLI

YIELD: 4 TO 6 SERVINGS

When I first tried this dish, I loved the classic Moroccan flavors, but somehow it seemed as if I were tasting each one separately: chickpeas, fish, and heady spices, disparate notes that didn’t quite harmonize for me. Then I whipped up a batch of Cheater’s Aioli—jarred mayonnaise flavored with saffron and lime—folded it into the pan juices, and a lovely melody was born.

3 cups freshly cooked chickpeas (reserve about 1⁄2 cup of cooking liquid) or two 15-ounce cans chickpeas, rinsed and drained

8 large garlic cloves, sliced

1 to 2 teaspoons hot red pepper flakes or 4 to 6 dried red chile peppers, or to taste

4 to 5 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1⁄2 teaspoon ground coriander

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

2 pounds fish fillets,1 inch thick (bass, snapper, cod, haddock, or other firm-fleshed white fish)

2 tablespoons fresh lemon or lime juice

1 teaspoon cumin seeds, lightly toasted and freshly ground

1⁄4 cup chopped fresh cilantro

1 teaspoon grated lime or lemon zest

Optional garnish: cilantro sprigs

FOR THE SAFFRON-LIME AIOLI

Saffron threads

1⁄2 cup mayonnaise, good-quality jarred such as Hellmann’s, or even better, homemade

2 tablespoons fresh lime juice

1 tablespoon best-quality extra virgin olive oil

1 garlic clove, finely minced

3⁄4 teaspoon cumin seeds, lightly toasted and freshly ground

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Liquid from baking the fish (optional)

YOU can prepare the whole dish in one pan: a deep 12-inch wide ovenproof sauté pan or cast-iron skillet. Combine the chickpeas, reserved cooking liquid, if using freshly cooked, or 1⁄2 cup water if using canned, garlic, pepper flakes or hot peppers, 2 tablespoons of the olive oil, the coriander, and salt and pepper to taste. (Alternatively, if you don’t have a similar pan, combine the ingredients in a regular skillet or saucepan—you may need a little more liquid.) Simmer the chickpeas over low heat, covered, for 30 minutes, to marry the flavors.

PREHEAT the oven to 350°F.

WHILE the chickpeas are cooking, prepare the Saffron-Lime Aioli: crush a pinch of saffron threads into a small bowl. Add 1 tablespoon hot water, stir, then let the saffron soak for about 10 minutes. Press the threads with the back of a spoon to release more color and flavor. Stir in the mayonnaise, lime juice, olive oil, garlic, cumin, and salt and pepper to taste. Let the flavors unfold while you make the fish.

PICK out and discard the hot peppers, if used, from the chickpeas. Scoop out about half the chickpeas from the skillet and set them aside in a bowl. Arrange the remaining chickpeas evenly in the pan (or if you used a small pan, arrange half of the the chickpeas in a baking pan just large enough to accommodate the fish), and place the fish over the chickpeas in the pan. Sprinkle the fish with lemon or lime juice, cumin, and salt and pepper to taste. Top with 2 tablespoons of the chopped cilantro. Spoon the remaining chickpeas over the fish. Drizzle everything with 2 to 3 tablespoons of olive oil. Cover the pan (or use heavy-duty foil), and bake for 25 to 30 minutes, or until the fish is just cooked through; the exact time will depend on the variety and thickness of the fish. To test the fish for doneness, insert a thin-bladed knife in the thickest part. The fish should be opaque or show a slight bit of translucence, according to your preference.

CHECK the aioli for seasoning. If desired, thin it out with a tablespoon or so of the cooking liquid from the fish.

SCATTER the remaining 2 tablespoons of cilantro, the lime or lemon zest, and, if you’d like, some more hot pepper flakes over the fish. I like to stir some of the aioli into the chickpeas and pan liquid, dollop a little atop the fish, and pass the rest separately in a sauce boat. But if you prefer, serve all the aioli on the side. Garnish the platter with cilantro sprigs.

ITALIAN-JEWISH MARINATED FRIED FISH (PESCE EN SAOR)

YIELD: 6 TO 8 SERVINGS

Above the night music, the Venetian skies boom and burst into explosive colors, sending showers of rainbow meteors skittering across the heavens, their shimmering reflections dancing in the inky canals.

It is the Festa del Redentore (Feast of the Redeemer), celebrated every July since 1576 to commemorate the end of a plague that had devastated the city. Among the traditional ritual of foods eaten before the blaze of spectacular fireworks is an ancient Venetian-Jewish dish, sole in a sweet-and-sour sauce of onions, raisins, and pine nuts, served cold.

Unlike some Italian-Jewish foods whose name betrays their provenance—artichokes alla giudia and several others with a “Sara” or “Rebecca” appended to the title come readily to mind—the Jewish origins of Pesce en Saor are not always acknowledged. But culinary historians, both those with an Italian focus and those with a Jewish one, trace the dish to the traditional methods Jews devised to preserve fish for the Sabbath. In Italy, Jewish cooks doused fried fish with hot vinegar, then to counteract the acidic taste, added sweet fried onions, raisins, and sugar. (This pattern—using vinegar or lemon as a preservative, then sweetening to eradicate the resulting sour taste—may explain why so many vastly different Jewish communities throughout the world developed their own sweet-and-sour fish dishes.) A fondness for raisins and pine nuts was acquired in Sicily, where Jews had dwelled from ancient times until they were expelled at the end of the fifteenth century.

The result is a well-flavored, make-ahead fish excellent for holidays and company buffets. I round out the flavors by caramelizing the onions and bedding the fried fish on fresh sliced oranges—their sweetness, and the concentrated sugars in the soaked raisins, obviate the need for any added sugar. This dish is especially good accompanied by a salad of marinated roasted red peppers.

2 pounds lemon sole, grouper, red snapper, perch, or similar nonoily, fairly firm-fleshed fish fillets (choose fillets no more than 1⁄2-inch thick)

About 1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Olive oil, for frying, plus 2 tablespoons

1 large, juicy unpeeled orange, preferably thin-skinned, very thinly sliced

1^1⁄2 pounds onions, very thinly sliced (6 cups)

1⁄4 cup pine nuts

1⁄4 cup raisins

1⁄2 cup moderately priced balsamic vinegar or mild red wine vinegar

2 anchovies, finely chopped (optional)

1 cup fresh orange juice

1 Turkish bay leaf

Optional garnish: bright green leaves of parsley, curly endive, frisée, or other greens

CUT the fillets in half lengthwise and, if necessary, remove the thin bony strip that runs through the middle of many fillets. Cut the pieces into 4-inch lengths. If time permits, soak the fish in a pan of cold, lightly salted water for about 20 minutes. (This centuries-old technique not only seasons the fish but also helps it to stay firm when fried.)

PAT the fish dry with paper towels. Spread flour on a sheet of wax paper or a platter and season with salt and pepper. Dredge the fish pieces thoroughly in the seasoned flour, then shake lightly to remove all excess. Heat 1⁄4 inch of oil in a large heavy skillet until hot but not smoking. Fry the fish in batches until nicely golden on both sides. Drain well on paper towels.

CHOOSE a casserole or nonreactive baking dish just large enough to accommodate the fish in one layer and line it with the orange slices. Place the fish on top, overlapping the pieces slightly, if necessary.

PREHEAT oven to 350°F. Wipe out all the oil in the skillet, then warm

2 tablespoons fresh oil in it. Add the onions and toss until completely coated with the oil. Salt and pepper lightly, cover the pan, and cook slowly over very low heat for 35 to 40 minutes, until the onions are meltingly tender. Stir from time to time to make sure onions don’t burn.

WHILE the onions are simmering, toast the pine nuts on a baking sheet in the oven for about 7 minutes, until fragrant and lightly golden. Shake the baking sheet from time to time to ensure even toasting. Set the toasted nuts aside to cool. Soak the raisins in the vinegar.

WHEN the onions are very tender, stir in the anchovies, if using (they add an elusive, subtle depth), and cook for 2 minutes, stirring to dissolve them. Add the raisins and vinegar, orange juice, and bay leaf. Turn the heat up to high, and cook, uncovered, until the liquid is reduced by half and the onions are caramelized and richly colored, 15 to 20 minutes. Be sure to stir frequently to redistribute the syrupy juices and, if necessary, turn the heat down a bit to prevent the onions from sticking and burning. Season generously with salt and pepper and remove the bay leaf.

SPREAD the caramelized onion mixture evenly over the fish. Scatter the toasted pine nuts on top. Wrap well with plastic and refrigerate for at least 6 hours or overnight (even better when served after 48 hours). It will keep very well for at least 4 days.

THE fish is best at room temperature, so remove it from the refrigerator at least 1 hour before serving. Brighten the dish with a garnish of greens, if desired.

LEMON-ROASTED CHICKEN

YIELD: 3 TO 4 SERVINGS

For maximum flavor, I rub the marinade right into the chicken flesh beneath the skin and then I roast it on a layer of lemons. Butterflying the chicken enables you to spread the marinade on more of the meat under the skin and to remove more of the fat trapped there, especially between the joints. Because so much fat is removed with this method, the skin never becomes soggy, and a final sizzle under the broiler crisps it up delectably.

One 3^1⁄2- to 4^1⁄2-pound frying or roasting chicken (preferably fresh, not previously frozen), butterflied down the backbone and pounded gently so it lies flat easily

1^1⁄2 tablespoons coarsely chopped garlic

2 tablespoons chopped fresh thyme or 4 teaspoons dried

3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Olive oil

2 lemons

1⁄2 teaspoon packed light brown sugar

RINSE the chicken and pat dry. Remove all visible fat. Starting at the neck end, gently loosen the skin by sliding your hand underneath the breast and carefully working your way back to the legs. Remove as much fat as possible beneath the skin, paying particular attention to the fat deposits around the thighs.

IN a food processor or blender, puree the garlic, half of the thyme, the lemon juice, 1⁄2 teaspoon salt and 1⁄4 teaspoon pepper. Lift up the skin and spread about half the mixture all over the breast and down to the drumsticks. Rub the remaining mixture all over the outside of the chicken. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 4 hours, but preferably overnight.

ABOUT 30 minutes before you are ready to begin cooking the chicken, remove it from the refrigerator to bring it to room temperature. Preheat oven to 350°F.

CHOOSE a heavy ovenproof skillet (12-inch cast-iron is ideal) large enough to accommodate the chicken. Rub it lightly with oil. Thinly slice the lemons, discarding the pits, and arrange them evenly over the bottom of the skillet. Sprinkle the lemons with the brown sugar. Turn the heat to moderately high and cook for 5 minutes. Add the chicken, skin side down, and continue cooking for about 10 minutes. Occasionally slide a wooden spoon under the chicken to prevent the skin from sticking to the lemons. Peek underneath—the skin should be coloring a rich gold in spots.

SPRINKLE the top with the remaining thyme and salt and pepper to taste, and place the skillet, chicken still skin side down, in the oven. Roast for 30 minutes. Leaving the layer of lemons on the bottom of the pan, turn the chicken skin side up. Season it all over with salt and pepper and continue roasting for 30 to 55 minutes longer, until the juices run clear when the thigh is pierced with a skewer or a thermometer inserted into the thickest part of the leg or thigh reads 170°F.

GIVE the chicken skin a final crisping by running the chicken under the broiler for a few minutes, moving the pan as necessary so both the front and back are evenly browned and crackly.

LET the chicken rest for about 10 minutes before carving.

CHICKEN PAPRIKASH WITH NOCKERL (DUMPLINGS)

YIELD: 4 TO 6 SERVINGS

Erica Vinik’s kitchens—whether in Budapest, Israel, Canada, or Long Beach, New York—have always been filled with Hungarian aromas: “paprika, fresh vegetables, onions, a lot of garlic, more garlic, and then some more garlic.”

As a little girl, Erica trailed her mother around the stove but wasn’t allowed to touch anything. “My mother was not only very quick but ambidextrous, too. She would beat the yolks with one hand and the whites with the other. She was very precise and didn’t want me to mess anything.”

Even copying down her mother’s recipes proved daunting: yahrzeit glasses might stand in for traditional measuring cups and tablespoons, based on the family’s heavy, oversized pewter cutlery, were the equivalent of ladles.

To recreate Hungarian favorites like chicken paprikash and noodles laced with sautéed cabbage slivers, Erica relied on her flavor memory. “The taste was in my mouth, and so I just kept working until I’d achieve it.”

In this recipe, fragrant vegetables and paprika imbue not just the chicken, but the delicious nockerl as well, which are not boiled first, as in typical fashion, but cooked entirely in the luscious sauce.

FOR THE CHICKEN

4 to 5 pounds bone-in, skinless chicken thighs

2 tablespoons olive oil

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 large onion, chopped (2 cups)

About 2 cups sweet red and yellow peppers, chopped and seeded

1^1⁄2 tablespoons finely chopped garlic

1 large, fresh plum tomato, chopped

1 cup chicken broth, preferably homemade or good quality, low-sodium purchased

About 3⁄4 teaspoon hot paprika (see Cook’s Note)

About 1⁄4 teaspoon mild paprika

FOR THE NOCKERL

2⁄3 cup unbleached all-purpose flour

3 large eggs, beaten to blend

Salt

PREHEAT oven to 350°F.

WASH the chicken and pat thoroughly dry with paper towels. In a heavy, deep ovenproof skillet (plain or enameled cast-iron is ideal) large enough to accommodate all of the chicken in a single layer, heat the oil over medium-high heat until shimmering. Sauté the chicken, in batches if necessary to avoid crowding the pan, until golden on both sides. Transfer the chicken to a platter and season with salt and pepper.

HEAT the remaining oil in the skillet then add the onions. Salt and pepper lightly, and cook over medium heat, scraping up the browned bits with a wooden spoon, lifting and tossing until the onions are softened and translucent. Stir in the peppers, increase the heat slightly, and sauté until the peppers begin to caramelize around the edges. Add the garlic and cook for 2 to 3 minutes, stirring. Stir in the tomato and adjust the heat to high. Add the broth, the paprikas (more or less, according to taste), and salt and pepper to taste, and bring to a boil.

RETURN the chicken pieces to the pan and spoon some of the vegetables and cooking sauce over them. Cover the pan first with foil and then with the lid. Put the pan in the oven and cook for about 30 minutes, until cooked through, turning the chicken pieces around in the sauce two or three times. Transfer the chicken to a platter and tent with foil to keep warm.

MAKE the dumplings: in a medium bowl, mix the flour, eggs, and a generous pinch of salt to a smooth batter. Bring the sauce to a boil in the skillet. Place the bowl of batter next to the skillet. Scoop out a scant teaspoon of the batter and drop it into the sauce, using a second teaspoon to push the batter off the spoon. Continue making dumplings, dropping them evenly around the pan so each one can swell up flavored with the sauce. Cook the dumplings over medium-high heat, uncovered, for about 6 minutes, until plump and firm but not hard. (This will be another few minutes after they solidify.)

TO serve, arrange the chicken on a platter. Surround with the dumplings and nap everything with the pan sauce.

COOK’S NOTE: Much of the success of this dish rides on fresh, aromatic paprikas, a combination of sweet and hot spices. If your paprikas no longer have real fragrance, invest in new ones. Find a brand you like: good paprika should add more than orange color to foods. I often prepare this dish with smoked paprikas.

During my father’s last summer, I took the Long Island Railroad to his apartment, spending days with him while Alex was in day camp.

He had always been a master storyteller who “owned” every story he ever told, from folktales like “Why the Sea is Salty” to sagas of the Lower East Side peopled with petty thieves named Cheesecake and Second Story. It wasn’t until months after I had discovered Charles Lamb that I conceded to my friends my dad hadn’t made up “A Dissertation on Roast Pig”—though he certainly told it better.

In the beginning, when he could still sit upright, cradled in pillows, he told me stories again, new ones I had never heard before, and “Matzoh Ball” stories, those I knew well and was always hungry for: how his family of nine had just one electric light bulb, hung over the kitchen table where everyone ate, talked, and did their homework; how he met my mother.

But as the days passed and his appetite diminished, we knew the chemotherapy wasn’t working. So I took over. Yet since he now, as the Psalmist says, “walked through the valley of the Shadow . . . .” I found that everything I spoke of from our world rang hollow and trivial.

Except one: recipes. The less he was able to eat, the more he wanted me to tell him recipes: how my mother used to prepare canned salmon, including the exact amount of white vinegar and onions she added, mush (pronounced “moosh”) steak from the old French Roumanian restaurant, fried with gobs of onions in chicken schmaltz. He listened, rapt, correcting me every time I omitted some petty ingredient, forgot the garlic, or a squeeze of lemon. It was as if I were telling spellbinding family stories, and he wanted to make sure I had every detail right.

And then I realized that our recipes were our family stories; they nourished us with all that is delicious in life.

I didn’t just feed him with recipes: the recipes stimulated his appetite, at least for a while. I would prepare the foods we talked about, and he would

eat as much as his shrinking body permitted. We spent a lot of time on his mother’s tongue with raisin sauce, and we distilled a recipe for sweet-and-sour stuffed cabbage that reflected both my grandmothers’ kitchens, sans the gingersnaps—”excessive,” we both agreed.

The tongue was first, so I overcame my longstanding disgust at handling the organ, bought the ingredients for preparing the dish, and went to his apartment to cook it. He wasn’t there.

My brother called from the hospital where he was waiting with my father’s nurse. “Dad’s in the ER, but we’re bringing him home. Make the tongue,” he urged, “maybe he’ll eat it.”

He did come home, not that day, but the next. By then, he wasn’t eating anything but sips of water.

My brother ate the tongue. And I never made the sweet-and-sour stuffed cabbage.

One day, when I told my daughter the story of the stuffed cabbage, she asked me to tell her the recipe. Then I made it for her.

CLASSIC SWEET-AND-SOUR STUFFED CABBAGE

YIELD: ABOUT 8 SERVINGS

My father and I decided to add a little tomato puree to the meat and bit of rice, ensuring that the filling would remain tender and succulent in these subtly sweet-and-sour cabbage rolls.

FOR THE CABBAGE ROLLS

1⁄4 cup long-grain rice

1 large head green cabbage or 2 smaller heads

2 pounds lean ground beef (ground turkey—dark meat from the thigh, especially—works well here, too)

2 large eggs, beaten

1⁄2 cup canned tomato puree

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

3 tablespoons light olive or other mild oil

4 cups finely chopped onion

2 tablespoons chopped garlic

2 tablespoons brown sugar

FOR THE SAUCE

One 28-ounce can Italian plum tomatoes, coarsely chopped, with their juice

1 cup canned tomato puree

1 cup chicken broth, preferably homemade or good-quality low-sodium purchased

1 cup chopped onion

3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

2 tablespoons brown sugar

2 teaspoons minced candied ginger

2 teaspoons cider vinegar

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 Turkish bay leaf

1⁄2 cup golden raisins

START the cabbage rolls: in a small bowl, soak the rice with a little warm water to cover. Using a sharp knife, carefully cut away the large outer leaves of the cabbage from the core end. Rinse, then blanch them in a large pot of boiling salted water, 4 or 5 at a time, until just soft enough to bend and fold without breaking. Drain and pat dry as they are done, and set them aside to cool. Coarsely chop the inner leaves too small to roll, and set aside; use no more than 2 cups of them for the sauce (any remainder can be discarded or saved for another purpose).

IN a large bowl, combine the meat, eggs, tomato puree, salt (figure about 2 teaspoons kosher salt), and pepper to taste. Add the rice, drained, and mix well. Set the filling aside while you sauté onions and garlic.

IN a very large (7- to 8-quart) Dutch oven or heavy ovenproof casserole, warm the oil over medium heat until it shimmers. Add the onions, salt and pepper them lightly, and sauté, lifting and turning occasionally, until softened and pale gold. Add the garlic and continue cooking for 5 more minutes. Scoop out about half of this mixture, put it in a small bowl to cool slightly, then add it to the filling and mix well.

ADD the reserved chopped cabbage to the onion-garlic mixture remaining in the pot, sprinkle with salt, and stir well. Cover the pot and cook over medium heat until the cabbage is lightly steamed and greatly reduced in volume. Uncover the pot, strew with the brown sugar, and sauté over moderately high heat, lifting and turning the vegetables so they don’t scorch, until the cabbage is softened and very lightly bronzed in parts. Turn off the heat.

PREHEAT the oven to 325°F.

STUFF the cabbage leaves: place them on a work surface, curled edges up, like an open palm. Cut out the hard little triangle at the base of each stem. Put about 1⁄3 cup of filling (depending on the size of the leaf) in the center. Fold the stem end of the leaf over the filling, then tuck in the two sides. Pull the top over these folds to enclose the roll. They should be compact and rounded, but remember, the rice will drink in the puree and the meat juices and expand somewhat, so leave a little extra room. Place the finished rolls seam side down as you work.

PREPARE the sauce: in a food processor fitted with the steel blade, combine all the sauce ingredients except the bay leaf and process until smooth.

PLACE the cabbage rolls seam side down on top of the sautéed vegetables. Pack them together closely, making multiple layers as necessary. Pour the sauce evenly over them, bury the bay leaf deep amidst the rolls, cover the pot tightly and bring to a boil. Transfer to the oven and bake for 2 hours, stirring in the raisins after the first hour. If necessary, bake an additional 30 minutes to 1 hour, uncovered, until the cabbage is very tender.

SERVE the cabbage rolls with lots of challah or other good bread or mashed potatoes because you’ll want to sop up all of the wonderful sauce. Excellent reheated and even better the second day.

EASY ONION-BRAISED BRISKET

YIELD: ABOUT 8 SERVINGS

A featured player in countless holiday productions throughout the Diaspora, sautéed onion takes on multiple roles here, providing not only the wonderfully savory flavor but also all the aromatic moisture in which the brisket gently braises, and even the body for the simple, flour-free gravy.

5 tablespoons mild olive oil

A first- or second-cut beef brisket (about 5 pounds), trimmed of excess fat, wiped with a damp paper towel, and patted dry

6 large garlic cloves, peeled and crushed

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

2 pounds onions, thinly sliced (about 8 cups)

1⁄4 cup mild vinegar (moderately priced sherry or balsamic are good choices)

HEAT 3 tablespoons of the oil over medium-high heat in a large Dutch oven or heavy flameproof casserole large enough to accommodate the meat in one layer (see Cook’s Note). Add the brisket, and brown it well to caramelize the meat on all sides, about 10 minutes in all. Don’t allow it to develop a hard, dark crust, which would make the meat tough or bitter. Transfer the brisket to a platter, fat-side down.

SPRINKLE the garlic cloves with enough salt and pepper to season the brisket, then mash the seasoned garlic to a paste. Spread half of the garlic paste over the top (nonfat side) of the brisket, and set the meat aside.

PREHEAT the oven to 300°F.

POUR off all the remaining fat in the pan, and add the remaining 2 tablespoons fresh oil. Add about half the onions, salt and pepper them generously, and sauté over medium-high heat, lifting and tossing them occasionally, until they have greatly reduced in volume and turned light golden. Stir in the remaining onions. After all the onions have softened, stir less frequently so they can build up the lovely dark fond that helps them brown more quickly. When all the onions are burnished a rich gold, add 3^1⁄2 tablespoons vinegar. Increase the heat to high, and cook, scraping up all the caramelized brown bits from the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon, for 3 to 4 minutes, until all the liquid is evaporated.

PLACE the brisket on the bed of onions, fat side up. Spread the remaining garlic paste over the top (fat side) of the brisket.

SPOON about half of the onions all over the top and sides of the brisket, so that the meat is sandwiched between layers of onion. Cover tightly first with foil, then with the lid.

BRAISE the brisket in the oven, basting with the pan juices and turning the meat every 30 minutes or so (be sure to recover the pan tightly), until the meat is fork tender, 3^1⁄2 to 4 hours. Let the meat rest in the pan sauce for at least 1 hour, but preferably overnight, covered, in the refrigerator.

WHEN you are ready to serve the brisket, scrape off any congealed fat from the surface, if you have refrigerated the dish. Transfer the cold meat to a cutting board, and slice the meat thinly across the grain at a slight diagonal.

PREPARE the gravy: strain the braising mixture, reserving the onion-garlic mixture. Skim and discard as much fat as possible from the liquid. Puree the defatted liquid, together with about half the reserved onion-garlic mixture and the remaining 1⁄2 tablespoon vinegar, in a food processor or blender. Transfer the pureed mixture to the cleaned pan. Add the remaining onion-garlic mixture and boil over high heat for about 5 minutes to concentrate the gravy and marry the flavors. Reduce the heat, add the meat, and reheat it slowly in the gravy until piping hot. Taste and adjust seasoning.

ARRANGE the sliced brisket on a serving platter. Spoon some of the hot sauce all over the meat and pass the rest in a separate sauce boat.

COOK’S NOTE: If you don’t have a pan large enough, you can cut the brisket in two and sauté it in batches. (The meat will shrink as it cooks, so that you will be able to fit it in one layer later.) Or sear the meat under the broiler: cover the broiler pan with foil to minimize cleanup. Place brisket, fat-side up, under a preheated broiler, and broil for 5 to 6 minutes on each side, or until nicely browned. Move the meat around as needed, so that it sears evenly.

FLANKEN WITH TART GREENS

YIELD: 4 TO 5 SERVINGS

This dish is commonly translated as “boiled beef,” but it is actually beef long-simmered in water with aromatic vegetables. My grandmother’s method uses a full-bodied beef or chicken broth instead as the cooking medium, along with plenty of earthy vegetables, producing succulent meat as well as a lusty-flavored soup. Though eight cups of broth may seem extravagant, in effect you are borrowing it and returning it deepened by the vibrant flavors of the meat and vegetables, as a husky soup that really sings, ready to be served at another meal. To garnish it, use the leftover flanken to make the Mishmash Kreplach. Or ladle the soup over egg noodles and sprinkle with lots of chopped fresh dill. Offered solo, the broth is wonderfully restorative on frosty days, and it makes a refined opener to a rich meat dinner.

Flanken is a bony Jewish cut of beef made by cutting short ribs across the bone. It is available in kosher butcher shops and from many nonkosher butchers in areas with large Jewish populations. If unavailable, you can substitute chuck short ribs.

Horseradish, the traditional accompaniment to flanken, can overpower the almost-sweet meat. I prefer broccoli rabe, whose gentle bitterness plays well against the richness of the beef. But I have both horseradish and mustard available for guests who insist.

4 pounds lean beef flanken

8 cups Beef Stock; chicken broth, preferably homemade, or good-quality, low-sodium purchased

1 large onion, thickly sliced

3 large garlic cloves, peeled and crushed

2 carrots, scraped and quartered

1 parsnip, peeled and quartered

1 parsley root, peeled (optional)

2 celery stalks, including leaves if available, quartered

1 bay leaf, preferably Turkish

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

FOR THE GREENS

1 pound broccoli rabe, cleaned, stems trimmed and cut into bite-size pieces, leaves and florets coarsely chopped, or an equal amount of trimmed, roughly chopped kale, mustard or turnip greens

1 tablespoon chopped garlic

2 tablespoons olive oil

1⁄8 teaspoon hot red pepper flakes (optional)

Salt

About 3 tablespoons broth from the flanken

Accompaniments: kosher sour dill pickles, coarse salt, grated horseradish, and sharp mustard (for traditional tastes, if desired)

PUT the beef and stock in a 6-quart Dutch oven or wide heavy saucepan, partially cover, and bring to a bare simmer: the liquid shivering, occasional bubbles breaking gently and noiselessly on the surface. Don’t allow the liquid to come to a boil; that will make the broth cloudy and the meat tough. Regulate the heat as necessary. Use a skimmer to remove as much foam and scum as possible as they rise to the surface.

AFTER the flanken has simmered for about 30 minutes, add the onion, garlic, carrots, parsnip, parsley root, if using, celery, and bay leaf. Season to taste with salt and pepper, bearing in mind that if you started with a salted broth, it will get saltier as it cooks down. Place the lid slightly askew and continue cooking over very low heat for 2^1⁄2 to 3 hours, or until the meat is fork-tender. Let the flanken rest in the broth for about 15 minutes, then take it out and arrange it on a serving platter. Spoon a little of the broth over the meat to keep it moist. (If you need to reheat the flanken, simmer it in enough broth to cover.)

STRAIN the soup, discarding or reserving the cooked vegetables according to preference (they will be quite soft; I usually discard all but the carrot and sometimes the parsnip and parsley root). Remove as much fat as possible from the broth by refrigerating it thoroughly until the fat solidifies, then just lifting it off. (You can deal with the soup at your leisure, of course, if you are in a hurry to get the flanken on the table.) Reserve 3 tablespoons of the broth for the greens.

ABOUT 30 minutes before you are ready to serve the flanken, prepare the greens: bring a large pot of well-salted water to a boil. Add the broccoli rabe or other greens, cover, and cook, stirring occasionally, until tender but not mushy, about 4 minutes. Drain thoroughly.

IN a large heavy skillet, sauté the garlic in the oil over medium-low heat, stirring, for 1 minute, until pale golden (do not let it brown). Add cooked greens, raise the heat to medium, and sauté for about 3 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the reserved flanken broth, the pepper flakes, if using, and salt to taste, and continue cooking for another 3 minutes, lifting and tossing the greens, to meld the flavors.

SLICE the flanken across the grain. Serve each guest a portion of broccoli rabe topped with slices of flanken. If desired, ladle a little hot broth over the meat to moisten it. Pass the pickles and coarse salt, and for the tradition-bound, horseradish and mustard.

My grandmother had flanken.

I don’t mean she consumed prodigious amounts of it, or that she served up her superb version often, though both are true.

I refer, instead, to her arms.

Her dark olive skin was perfectly smooth and taut across her elegant face. But the soft flesh from her gently sloping shoulders to her wide, tired feet hung in rounded folds like an old shower curtain.

When she left the house, every bit of that loose flesh was constrained: in a heavy pink satin brassiere and matching girdle, strong support hose, and then, beautifully tailored clothes with long or three-quarter-length sleeves.

But not when she was cooking. At her apartment in the Bronx or at our house, preparing the delicacies that marked our holiday feasts, my tiny grandmother permitted herself to wear a sleeveless housedress with extra-large armholes to accommodate her upper arms.

One such morning, my brother, my sister, and I sat eating the lumpy but delicious farina she had made, our sleepy eyes hypnotically fixed on the huge pleats of flesh flapping rhythmically, the identical color of the boiled beef she was cutting up.

“Flanken,” my brother whispered. “Look at Grandma’s flanken. She has flanken on her arms.”

But she got the last laugh.

Now that my sister and I are in our fifties, we know just how hard it is to keep arms free of flanken.

COFFEE-SPICED POT ROAST WITH KASHA KREPLACH AND TOASTED GARLIC CHALLAH CRUMBS

YIELD: ABOUT 8 SERVINGS

Growing up in a large, traditional Jewish family, my father never cooked anything until he met my mother. He learned by watching her prepare latkes and lasagne, bistecca alla pizzaiola and brisket in the kitchen of their chartreuse and shocking pink apartment: grist for the endless dinner parties Mom’s cousins remember vividly today, though they took place more than sixty years ago.

Constitutionally incapable of following a written recipe, my parents expanded their culinary repertoires in different ways. Besides the cookbooks my mother used as departure points, there were the late night radio shows that inspired creative pancake-making forays at 3am or escarole baked with meat, raisins, and pine nuts at our next big dinner.

My father, on the other hand, was smitten with a number of food crushes. Black bean soup, after he had tasted it at the Coach House restaurant, lasted a few years. There were on and off trashy flirtations with onion soup mix and the like. But coffee added to pot roast or a stew—an idea he had gleaned from a newspaper years ago—remained a longtime companion.

I remembered the coffee recently and relied on its slightly bitter acidity to bring just the right balance to the barbeque spice flavors in this meltingly tender pot roast. To partner the meat, kasha kreplach, topped with garlicky crumbs for crunch, make a delectable, if unusual, side dish. For years I have been serving kreplach and ravioli made with wonton wrappers as accompaniments to stews and saucy meats: when stuffing is not on the menu, I sometimes prepare pureed chestnut-and-shallot–filled wontons alongside the Thanksgiving turkey, napping both with good gravy.

This is one dish I like to plate in the kitchen, instead of serving family-style. That way, I don’t have to explain how to layer the ingredients, then watch the delicate kreplach turn cold and adhere to one another while waiting for diners to serve themselves the meat first.

FOR THE FLAVOR PASTE

8 large garlic cloves, coarsely chopped

2 tablespoons dark brown sugar

1 tablespoon kosher salt

1 tablespoon ground cumin, preferably freshly toasted and ground

1 teaspoon cracked black peppercorns

1⁄2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

FOR THE POT ROAST

A 4- to 5-pound boneless chuck eye roast (I’ve found that this produces the most succulent pot roast, but if unavailable, chuck shoulder or other boneless chuck roast will yield a very fine dish too), trimmed of excess fat, wiped with a damp paper towel and patted dry

4 tablespoons olive oil

2 cups chopped onion

2 cups scraped carrots, coarsely chopped

2 teaspoons smoked or fragrant sweet paprika

2 to 3 cups chicken broth, preferably homemade, or good-quality, low-sodium purchased

1 cup strong brewed coffee

1⁄3 cup cider vinegar

Kasha Kreplach with Toasted Garlic Challah Crumbs (recipe follows)

COMBINE all the flavor paste ingredients in a food processor and process to a coarse puree. Pat the paste all over the meat and let it drink in the seasonings for at least 2 hours or up to 24, wrapped in plastic or a resealable plastic bag and refrigerated.

REMOVE the meat from the refrigerator and let it come to room temperature. Preheat the oven to 300°F.

SCRAPE the flavor paste off the meat (otherwise, it may burn during the initial browning) and reserve it. Pat the meat dry. In a large Dutch oven or other lidded flameproof casserole big enough to accommodate the meat, heat 2 tablespoons of the oil over medium-high heat until it is hot but not smoking. Add the meat and brown it on all sides, about 10 minutes. Transfer to a platter and set aside.

WIPE out all the oil from the pan, add the remaining 2 tablespoons oil, and heat until shimmering. Add the onions, salt and pepper lightly, and cook over medium heat until softened, about 5 minutes. Stir in the carrots and continue cooking, turning occasionally, for 5 more minutes. Add the reserved flavor paste and the paprika, cooking and stirring until fragrant, about 1 minute. Add 2 cups of the broth, the coffee, and the vinegar, and bring to a boil, using a wooden spoon to scrape up any delicious browned bits clinging to the bottom of the pan.

REDUCE the heat to a simmer. Place the meat and any juices it has thrown off into the pan; if needed, add more broth so that the liquid comes half way up to the sides of the meat. Arrange a sheet of foil over the meat, then cover tightly with the pan lid.

OVEN-BRAISE the meat, turning and basting it with the pan liquid every half-hour until the meat is very tender, 3^1⁄2 to 4 hours.

WHILE the meat is cooking, prepare the kasha kreplach.

TRANSFER the meat to a carving board; keep it warm beneath a foil tent. Skim as much fat as possible from the pan sauce. If necessary, strain the pan liquid (reserving the solids—most of the aromatic vegetables will have melted into the sauce) into a large glass, wait for it to settle, then spoon off the clear fat that has risen to the top.

IN a large skillet, boil the defatted pan juices and reserved solids, reducing until nicely thickened and glossy. Taste and correct seasoning.

I like to serve this already plated for guests. Slice the pot roast and arrange on individual plates. Top with some kreplach, then a generous shower of pan gravy. Scatter the challah crumbs over all.

KASHA KREPLACH WITH TOASTED GARLIC CHALLAH CRUMBS

YIELD: ABOUT 50 KREPLACH

This will probably make more kreplach than you need for this dinner, but it is difficult to prepare less than one cup of kasha (since it is mixed with a whole egg). And leftover kreplach (uncooked) can be frozen. Arrange them, unwrapped, in a single layer on a baking sheet, place in the freezer until solidly frozen, then wrap in freezer packaging. You can also use the filling to make “lazy kreplach:” boil the wonton wrappers as you would pasta squares and drain them. Grease a rimmed baking sheet or pan and on it place one or two wrappers for each guest, in a single layer, sides not touching. Spread some of the filling on each wrapper and cover with another wrapper. Continue adding a few layers of filling and wrappers to each with the remaining filling and wrappers, creating a stack or two of kreplach for each guest. Add some broth to the bottom of the pan, and drizzle each stack with gravy and a bit more broth. Bake at 325°F until everything is heated through. Serve guests the stacks of lazy kreplach, topped with the challah crumbs.

FOR THE KASHA KREPLACH

1 large egg plus 2 large egg yolks

1 cup kasha

2 cups chicken broth, preferably homemade or good-quality, low-sodium purchased, or Vegetable Stock

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

3 tablespoons olive oil

2 cups finely chopped onion (about 1⁄2 pound)

1 cup mashed potatoes (leftover is fine)

About 100 wonton wrappers (it’s a good idea to have extra in case of tearing)

Egg wash (1 or 2 large eggs as needed, each beaten with 1 teaspoon water)

FOR THE CHALLAH CRUMBS

2 slices challah, about 3⁄4 inch thick

2^1⁄2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

2 teaspoons minced fresh garlic

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 to 2 tablespoons chopped flat-leaf parsley (optional)

PREPARE the kasha: in a medium bowl, beat the egg with a fork. Stir in the kasha and mix until each grain is thoroughly coated with egg. Bring the broth to a simmer. In a heavy medium skillet with high sides or a wide heavy saucepan, toast the kasha over medium heat, turning and breaking up the kasha constantly until the egg begins to dry and the grains separate, about 3 minutes. Add the simmering broth and salt and pepper to taste, then cover and cook over very low heat until tender and all the liquid is absorbed, about 10 minutes. Transfer to a large bowl and let cool.

IN a medium skillet, heat the oil until shimmering. Add the onions and sauté, stirring occasionally, until speckled with deep bronze. Add the onions to the kasha. Stir in the mashed potato, and combine well. Taste and adjust seasonings: it should be well salted and peppery. Add the egg yolks and mix thoroughly. Refrigerate until cold.

MAKE the challah crumbs: preheat the oven to 325°F. Arrange the challah on a rimmed baking sheet and toast on both sides until dry and crisp. Or toast lightly in a toaster oven. Let cool, then tear into pieces and pulse in a food processor until coarsely ground. Measure out 1 cup; use any extra for another purpose. In a medium skillet, warm the oil over medium heat. Add the garlic and crumbs, and cook, stirring, until golden brown. Season well with salt and pepper. Stir in the parsley, if using.

FILL and trim (see Wonton Wrappers) the kreplach, using 1 tablespoon of filling and 2 wonton wrappers for each krepl and sealing them with the egg wash.

POACH the kreplach: in a large, very wide pot, bring at least 5 quarts of lightly salted water to a boil. Slip in the kreplach, one by one, being careful not to overcrowd the pot (if necessary, cook them in batches, or use two pots). Lower the temperature slightly (the kreplach might explode if the water is boiling furiously) and poach until tender, 3 to 6 minutes (exact time will depend on the brand of wonton wrapper used). Lift the kreplach out, a few at a time, with a large skimmer, gently shaking the skimmer so the water drains back into the pot (the kreplach are too fragile to pour into a colander).

THE kreplach are now ready to be sauced.

SEPHARDI-STYLE STUFFED MEATBALLS WITH CELERY ROOT AND CARROTS

YIELD: ABOUT 4 SERVINGS

In both Sephardi and Italian-Jewish cooking, there is a wealth of recipes for ground meat or poultry cooked with vegetables. Most familiar, of course, are meat-stuffed vegetables, baked or braised; meat is also mounded between vegetable slices, then breaded and fried, or prepared as in this recipe, combined with chopped vegetables, formed into meatballs, fried, and then braised.

I’ve cooked these meatballs over braised celery root and carrots, a favorite Sephardi combination. If you can’t find celery root—or if the knotted bulb appears too daunting—substitute fennel or celery, perhaps intensifying their flavors with a generous pinch of crushed fennel or celery seeds.

And instead of the green olives or roasted red peppers I’ve combined with the meat here, you can experiment with other cooked vegetables as well, such as chopped spinach, fried eggplant, or braised fennel. Adding vegetables to the meatballs both flavors and lightens them, making this method a particularly good choice when you are using ground chicken or turkey.

1 thick slice challah (about 1 inch) or good-quality white bread, crusts removed

2^1⁄2 cups chicken broth, preferably homemade, or good-quality, low-sodium purchased

1 tablespoon chopped garlic, plus 2 teaspoons minced

5 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley

1 large egg

1 pound ground chicken, turkey, or beef

1 cup pitted green olives, chopped (use good-quality brine- or oil-cured), or 1⁄2 cup minced roasted red pepper

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1^1⁄2 pounds celery root (also called celeriac)

1 pound carrots, scraped

Olive oil, for frying

Juice of 2 lemons

1 teaspoon grated lemon zest

TEAR the bread into 2-inch pieces and put it into a small saucepan. Add 1⁄2 cup of the broth and cook over medium heat until the bread has absorbed all the liquid. Transfer the mixture to a food processor, together with the chopped garlic, 2 tablespoons of the parsley, and the egg and then process until well combined. Put the meat in a large bowl and add the pureed bread mixture, the olives or red peppers, and salt and pepper to taste. Knead with your hands until the ingredients are thoroughly amalgamated. If you have time, refrigerate for at least 30 minutes to let the flavors blend.

PREPARE the vegetables: peel and trim the celery root and cut it into large cubes—you’ll have 3^1⁄2 to 4 cups. (To facilitate the peeling, cut it into large pieces first, then trim and peel.) Cut the carrots into pieces roughly, the same size as the celery root—you’ll have about 2 cups.

WETTING your hands as needed, form the meat into walnut-size balls. Heat about 1⁄4 inch of oil in a large, heavy, deep-sided skillet or sauté pan until hot but not smoking. Add the meatballs and sauté in batches until lightly browned on all sides but not cooked through. (This is the one-pot method. If time is a problem or you don’t have a deep-sided sauté pan, fry the meatballs in a regular skillet and braise the vegetables at the same time in a Dutch oven or heavy casserole.) Transfer the meatballs to a platter as they are done.

WIPE out the skillet, add 3 tablespoons fresh oil, and heat until hot. Add the celery root and carrots and sauté over medium-high heat, in batches if necessary, until the vegetables turn golden brown at the edges. Keep lifting and turning with a spatula so the vegetables color on all sides. If you worked in batches, return all vegetables to the skillet. Add the lemon juice, remaining 2 cups broth, 2 teaspoons minced garlic, and salt and pepper to taste. Stir well, then simmer over low heat, covered, for about 10 minutes. The vegetables should be almost tender at this point.

ADD the meatballs to the pan, and spoon the pan liquid and vegetables over them. Cover and simmer gently for 10 minutes, or until the vegetables are very tender and the meatballs are cooked through. Adjust the salt and pepper and stir in the lemon zest and the remaining 3 tablespoons parsley.

TRANSFER the meat and vegetables to a serving platter, and ladle some of the pan juices over them. Pass the remaining pan sauce separately. (If you want a more concentrated pan sauce, reduce it for a few minutes over high heat after you have removed the meatballs and vegetables.)

CHOLENT

Call it cholent, shalet, dafina, hamin, s’keena, tabit: nearly every Jewish community in the Diaspora has come up with a version, or several, of this quintessential Jewish dish. It is a one-pot hot meal—meats, vegetables, legumes, and/or grains are all cooked together in a casserole—traditionally prepared on Friday afternoon and left to simmer very slowly in the oven until the Saturday midday meal.

These casseroles were created to solve a singularly Jewish problem: how to honor the Sabbath lunch with hot foods when no fires may be kindled—or ovens lit—after sundown on Friday. (The Jewish Sabbath, like all Jewish days, begins with sunset and ends the following evening. “And there was evening and there was morning: the first day,” says Genesis 1:5.)

Because the Sabbath laws prohibit the act of cooking as well as lighting fires, observant Jews do not stir the dish, add additional ingredients or seasonings, or degrease the cholent while the Sabbath is in progress. Cooks trim as much fat as possible before cooking, or they can prepare the cholent well in advance, refrigerate it, and remove the fat before reheating. (Warming up cooked food on a previously lit fire—a stove burner or oven kept on overnight—is permissible.) Guests may season the food at the table.

But you need not restrict the cholent of Sabbath to the traditional Saturday lunch. Robust and aromatic, it is ideal cold weather comfort food. Prepare it on a blustery January or February morning when rattling winds make you long for richly caramelized, slow-cooked flavors, and let it stew all day in a gentle oven or Crockpot, steaming up the windows. You’ll come home to an ineffably tantalizing fragrance and a deeply soul-satisfying meal.

Ah, the aroma. Too often it is more glorious than the taste. Because the ingredients can be rather heavy (when meats were scarce, cooks often took the kitchen sink approach, tossing in virtually everything but to fill out their cholents) and are cooked so long, traditional cholents, especially to the uninitiated, can be unpleasantly thick and tired-tasting.

SOME GUIDELINES: DELICIOUS CHOLENTS FOR CONTEMPORARY TASTES

• Today there is no reason not to limit the amount and number of starches used. Beans, with rice, perhaps, or a dumpling, along with some white potatoes, is usually the most I include in a Sabbath stew.

• Barley, simmered for very long periods, tends to swell up enormously, drinking up a great deal of the cooking liquid, and can become rather mushy. If you include it, go easy, adding just enough to lend a creaminess to the cholent. Or try soaking it overnight in cold water (1⁄2 cup barley to 2 cups water) when you soak the beans, for fluffier barley.

• If you are cutting down on meat, include more sturdy vegetables along with the beans. Carrots, celery root, fennel, parsley root, parsnips, and rutabagas are all good choices. They will impart their earthy, herbal flavor and, in turn, beautifully absorb the aromatic cooking juices. Roasted shallots make a wonderful addition.

• Because the lengthy cooking flattens out the flavors, eliminating the complex high notes, before serving, introduce some fresh, vivacious tastes. Shower the cholent lavishly with fresh herbs or rouse it with a jolt of freshly ground black pepper or finely minced fresh garlic. Something citrusy—the finely grated peel or a splash of juice—will also enliven the cholent and pull the flavors into balance, while mitigating its richness.

• Yes, it is a rich dish. If health reasons do not permit you to indulge in a regular portion, enjoy it as an appetizer. Round out the rest of the meal with a big, tart salad and whole-grain bread like a sour rye. Chilled Crenshaw melon or other seasonal fresh fruit makes the best finish.

• Cholents freeze beautifully and reheat well. Leftovers become perfect make-ahead meals. And it’s easy to remove the fat from cholents prepared in advance. Remember to add a dash of fresh flavoring just before serving.

DUCK AND WHITE BEAN CHOLENT

YIELD: 4 TO 6 SERVINGS

This spoon-tender duck and creamy bean casserole is reminiscent of a fine cassoulet, to which it is no doubt related. European Jews wealthy enough to enrich their cholents—the stew that for many was the taste of Sabbath itself—with duck and goose found the lush flesh would remain succulent and tender even after the prolonged cooking from Friday afternoon to midday Saturday. Today, kosher confit d’oie (long-simmered preserved goose) is still sold in Jewish delicatessens in France for creating lavish Alsatian-style cholents.

But the lengthy, gentle braising that renders such incomparably supple meat and enchants the house with a heavenly perfume will also fade the pungent seasonings. They will need some brightening up. So just before serving, I send in a fresh infusion of flavors: brisk minced garlic, rosemary, and snappy lemon zest.

1^1⁄2 cups dried white beans (about 12 ounces) such as cannellini or great Northern, washed, picked over, soaked overnight in cold water to cover by at least 2 inches, and drained

One 4^1⁄2- to 5^1⁄2-pound fresh duck (or, if unavailable, thawed frozen), cut into eighths, wingtips, tailbone, and neck removed

1 tablespoon olive oil

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 cup chopped shallots

8 large garlic cloves, coarsely chopped

1 cup dry red wine

10 to 12 pitted prunes, quartered

4 large waxy potatoes, peeled and cut into quarters, or 6 medium, halved

2 tablespoons chopped fresh rosemary leaves

1 tablespoon chopped fresh sage

2 teaspoons grated orange zest

About 6 cups chicken broth, preferably homemade, or good-quality, low-sodium purchased

FOR THE LEMON-GARLIC GARNISH

2 to 3 teaspoons grated lemon zest

2 teaspoons minced or pressed garlic

1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh rosemary leaves

2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh parsley, preferably flat-leaf

1⁄2 teaspoon salt

PLACE the beans in a very large (7- to 8-quart) Dutch oven or heavy flameproof casserole in which you will be cooking the cholent.

RESERVE the duck liver and giblets for another use. Pull off and discard as much excess fat as possible (or save for rendering—see Poultry Schmaltz). Rinse the duck pieces and thoroughly dry with paper towels.

HEAT the oil in a 10- to 12-inch heavy skillet (cast-iron is ideal), until very hot but not smoking. Working in batches, add the duck and brown on both sides over medium-high heat, beginning skin side down. Transfer the duck as it is browned to the Dutch oven or casserole. Let the browned duck rest until cool enough to handle, then remove the skin from each piece. If your cholesterol permits, return the skin to the skillet and fry over moderately high heat until crisp on both sides, to render out as much fat as possible (it will be a delicious flavoring for the cholent). Cut the skin into small bits and add to the Dutch oven or casserole. Sprinkle the skin and the duck pieces all over with salt and pepper. (If you choose not to crisp the skin, simply discard it.)

REMOVE all but 1 tablespoon of the fat remaining in the skillet and discard or reserve it for another use. Add the shallots and sauté over medium heat until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and continue cooking for 3 minutes, or until golden. Transfer the mixture to the Dutch oven.

ADD the wine and prunes to the skillet and turn the heat up to high, scraping up all the browned bits with a wooden spoon. Cook until the liquid is reduced by half, then transfer the mixture to the Dutch oven.

PREHEAT the oven to 200°F. Add the potatoes to the Dutch oven, sprinkle the herbs, orange zest, and salt and pepper to taste over all, and combine well. Add 6 cups broth—it should just cover all of the ingredients; if necessary, add a bit more. Bring to a gentle boil and then simmer for 10 minutes. Cover very tightly with foil and the lid. Transfer to the oven and bake undisturbed for at least 8 hours, or overnight.

PREPARE the lemon-garlic garnish: combine all the ingredients in a small bowl, cover, and refrigerate until ready to serve.

JUST before serving the cholent, stir in lemon-garlic garnish.

HERBED BEEF CHOLENT WITH ONION GONIFS

YIELD: 6 TO 8 SERVINGS

“Gonif,” she called, trailing me into the kitchen. Other children stole from the cookie jar. But what cookie could compare with my grandmother’s huge, cold matzoh balls, satin-sleek with fat, gleaming like golden goose eggs in the moonlight?

“Stop! There won’t be any left for tomorrow. You little gonif, you thief.”

But she was laughing. She always made extra. It was the one food she knew I’d always eat, and she was engaged in a constant struggle to put more weight on me, which would no doubt cure me of the twin maladies, anemia and straight hair.

Reading through a pile of Jewish cookbooks in a secondhand store years later, I was intrigued to learn about a matzoh-ball-type dumpling cooked in a cholent, ironically called a gonif. It seems the dumpling, placed on top of all the savory ingredients, steals their flavors and becomes enriched by them.

In the following cholent, the slow-cooking herbed flanken or short ribs make these oniony gonifs quite rich indeed. I usually include poultry so those who want to cut down on some of the red meat in this very filling dish can do so.

FOR THE ONION GONIFS

4 tablespoons olive oil

1 cup finely chopped onion

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

5 large eggs

1 cup matzoh meal

3 tablespoons finely chopped fresh parsley, preferably flat-leaf

2 teaspoons grated lemon zest

1^1⁄2 teaspoons baking powder

1⁄3 cup chicken broth

FOR THE BEANS

2 cups cannellini or great Northern beans (1 pound), or a combination of either with cranberry or kidney beans, washed, picked over, soaked overnight in cold water to cover by at least 2 inches, and drained

3 large carrots, scraped and quartered

1 Turkish bay leaf

1 fresh thyme sprig

1 fresh rosemary sprig

1⁄2 small onion, peeled

2 large garlic cloves, peeled and smashed

FOR THE HERB PASTE

2 tablespoons coarsely chopped onion

1 tablespoon coarsely chopped garlic

1 tablespoon minced lemon zest

2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

1 tablespoon chopped fresh rosemary leaves

2 teaspoons minced fresh thyme

2 teaspoons salt

5 peppercorns, crushed

Olive oil

3^1⁄2 to 4^1⁄2 pounds flanken or short ribs, cut in pieces

1^1⁄2 to 2^1⁄2 pounds turkey thighs or legs (optional)

FOR THE REST OF THE CHOLENT

2 tablespoons olive oil

1^1⁄2 cups chopped onion

2 parsnips, peeled and quartered

3 tablespoons coarsely chopped garlic

1⁄2 cup dry red wine

One 16-ounce can Italian plum tomatoes, chopped, and their juices

2 tablespoons chopped fresh rosemary leaves

1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

6 to 8 small waxy or all-purpose potatoes (about 2 pounds), such as red new potatoes or Yukon gold (if you have access to heirloom varieties: Caribe, Russian Banana, or Yellow Finn would be particularly delicious), scrubbed, unpeeled (unless the peel is thick or unpleasant), and halved

4 cups chicken broth, preferably homemade, Beef Stock, or good-quality, low-sodium purchased

Chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley and fresh minced chives, for garnish

START the gonifs: heat 1 tablespoon of the oil in a 7- to 8-inch skillet, add the onions, and sauté over moderate heat until softened and pale gold, about 5 minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste, and set the skillet aside to cool.

IN a large bowl, beat the eggs until thick and light. Add the remaining 3 tablespoons oil and beat until smooth. Fold in the matzoh meal, parsley, lemon zest, baking powder, about 1^1⁄2 teaspoons salt (or to taste), and a generous amount of pepper. When the onions have cooled to room temperature, stir them in, along with the broth. Mix very well, cover the bowl, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour or up to 12 hours.

PREPARE the beans: put them in a large saucepan together with the carrots, bay leaf, thyme, rosemary, onion, and garlic. Add enough cold water to cover the ingredients by 2 inches. Bring to a gentle boil over medium heat, skimming off the froth as it rises to the top. As soon as it begins to boil, reduce the heat to a simmer, partially cover the saucepan, and cook for about 40 minutes, until the beans are almost tender. Drain the beans. Pick out and discard the herbs, onion, and garlic, but reserve the carrots. Transfer the beans and carrots to a 7- to 8-quart Dutch oven or flameproof casserole.

WHILE the beans are cooking, prepare the herb paste: in a blender or mini food processor, combine the onions, garlic, lemon zest, lemon juice, rosemary, thyme, salt, and peppercorns. Puree, stopping to scrape down the container as necessary, until the mixture is well combined and fairly smooth. Scrape the mixture into a 13 by 9-inch glass baking dish.

TRIM as much fat as possible from the meat and pat it dry. (You really can’t skim the fat from the cooked cholent, unless it is prepared well in advance and refrigerated.) Lightly grease a deep 10- to 12-inch heavy skillet and heat it over medium-high heat until it is hot, but not smoking. Add the flanken or short ribs, in batches, if necessary, so you don’t overcrowd the pan, and brown lightly on all sides over medium-high heat. Transfer the meat to the baking dish and smear the herb paste all over. If using the turkey, heat the skillet again (if needed, film it with oil again) over moderately high heat. Add the turkey and lightly brown it on all sides, then transfer it to the baking dish and rub all over with the herb paste.

PREHEAT the oven to 200°F.

ASSEMBLE the cholent ingredients: discard any fat in the skillet and heat the 2 tablespoons oil. Add the onions and sauté over moderately high heat until softened and lightly speckled with brown, about 5 minutes. Add the parsnips and garlic, and continue sautéing until dotted bronze around the edges. Add the wine, bring to a boil, and cook, scraping up all the browned bits, for 2 minutes. Stir in the tomatoes and their juices, the rosemary, thyme, and salt and pepper to taste, and bring to a simmer. Cook, stirring, for 2 to 3 minutes, to mingle the flavors. Stir the mixture into the beans in the Dutch oven.

SALT and pepper the bean mixture to taste, taking into account the saltiness of the broth you are using in the recipe. Add the beef, turkey, if using, and potatoes, burying them in the beans. Add the broth and bring to a slow boil.

LIGHTLY form the gonif batter into dumplings the size of golf balls. (Don’t compress the batter too much or the gonifs will be dense and hard. If you prefer, you can make the gonifs smaller, about the size of walnuts.) When the broth is gently boiling, slide in the gonifs, one at a time. Cover the pot tightly with foil and the lid and transfer it to the oven. Let the cholent cook undisturbed for 8 hours, or overnight.

TO serve, place two gonifs, two potato halves, beans, and slices of meat and/or poultry in shallow soup bowls. Ladle in some broth. Sprinkle generously with the parsley and chives to freshen the flavors.

GARLICKY LAMB AND LIMA HAMIN WITH LITTLE EGGPLANT BOATS

YIELD: 6 TO 7 SERVINGS

This Sabbath stew celebrates timeless Sephardi tastes. Nestled on top of limas and rice, garlic-suffused lamb simmers slowly overnight to melt-in-the-mouth tenderness. For added dimension, I cook little meat-stuffed eggplants along with the stew. Sephardim frequently include stuffed zucchinis or other vegetables in their hamins; they are analogues of the gonifs, the starchy dumplings Ashkenazim add to their cholents. Like a gonif, these eggplant boats seem to pilfer the fragrant aromas from the stew as they cook to creamy succulence.

The idea for these eggplant boats came from Oded Schwartz’s In Search of Plenty. For a simpler, but still memorable preparation, make the hamin without them.

3 small-medium eggplants (6 to 8 ounces each)

Coarse salt

2 cups dried large lima beans (about 1 pound), washed, picked over, soaked overnight in cold water to cover by at least 2 inches, and drained

1^1⁄2 cups long-grain rice, rinsed and drained

6 to 8 small lamb shanks (5 to 6 pounds total)

6 tablespoons olive oil

3 cups chopped onion plus 1⁄2 cup chopped shallots, or 4 cups chopped onion

Freshly ground black pepper

1 whole head of garlic, separated into cloves and peeled

1^1⁄2 cups chopped plum tomatoes (about three–quarters of a 28-ounce can, drained, or 1 pound fresh)

Grated zest and juice of 1 lemon

2 teaspoons fresh thyme leaves or 3⁄4 teaspoon dried, crumbled

1⁄2 pound lean ground beef

6 cups chicken broth, preferably homemade; Beef Stock; or use good-quality, low-sodium purchased

CUT a large, thin lengthwise slice from each eggplant. These will be the lids for the eggplant boats, so reserve them. Scoop out as much eggplant flesh as possible without damaging the peel. (Many people use spoons, melon ballers, or apple corers, but I find they are not sharp enough. A small paring knife is easier to manipulate without tearing the peel.) Put the eggplant flesh in a colander, toss with 2 teaspoons coarse salt, and weight it down with a plate or bowl topped with a heavy object like a can of tomatoes. Let the eggplant drain for about 30 minutes while you prepare everything else.

PLACE the limas and rice on the bottom of a very large, heavy, flameproof casserole or Dutch oven (7- to 8-quart capacity).

TRIM the lamb of as much visible fat as possible. Wipe with damp paper towels and pat thoroughly dry. In a 10- to 12-inch heavy skillet, heat 2 tablespoons of the oil until hot, but not smoking. Sear the lamb over medium-high heat, in batches, if necessary, to avoid crowding the pan, until evenly browned on all sides. Transfer the meat to a platter and set aside.

WIPE out the fat from the skillet and heat 2 tablespoons fresh oil. Add the onions and sauté over medium-high heat, lifting and turning them until golden brown, about 15 minutes. Salt and pepper well and stir into the limas and rice. (Don’t wash out the skillet yet.) Salt and pepper the lamb all over and arrange on top of the onions, limas, and rice. Strew the garlic cloves over the lamb.

IN a small bowl, stir together 1 cup of the tomatoes, the lemon zest and juice, thyme, and salt and pepper to taste, and pour over the garlic layer.

PREHEAT the oven to 200°F.

FINISH the eggplant boats: rinse the eggplant flesh under cool, running water and then squeeze it dry with your hands, extracting as much of the bitter juices as possible. Pat dry with paper towels. Heat the remaining 2 tablespoons oil in the skillet, add shallots (or alternative onions), and sauté until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the eggplant flesh and cook over medium-high heat, stirring, until tender, 2 to 3 minutes per side. Stir in the ground beef and sauté until the meat loses its red color. Stir in the remaining 1⁄2 cup tomatoes, and salt and pepper to taste. Cook, stirring, for 2 minutes. Stuff the eggplant shells with the meat mixture and cover with the reserved eggplant lids. Arrange these eggplant boats on top of everything in the casserole.

POUR in the broth. Bring to a gentle boil on top of the stove and simmer 10 minutes. Cover the casserole tightly with foil and the lid, place in the oven, and cook for 8 hours, or overnight.

TO serve, cut the eggplants in half or thirds. The lamb will be meltingly tender and falling off the bone, so you need not serve each guest an entire shank. Instead, dish out some lamb pieces, accompanied by limas, rice, and a piece of the velvet-soft stuffed eggplant.

ISRAELI SALAD

YIELD: 6 TO 8 SERVINGS

A breakfast staple on Israeli kibbutz tables for many years, this salad has become wildly popular in Jewish communities worldwide. The refreshing mix of juicy vegetables and herbs is especially good served alongside unsauced roasted or grilled foods.

The salad is endlessly variable. For extra crunch and color, you can include slices or cubes of carrot and radish. Other delicious additions: tiny pieces of peeled lemon flesh (especially mild Meyer lemon), bite-size pieces of toasted pita bread or Za’atar Matzohs, olives, or for dairy meals, crumbled feta or goat cheese. Or sprinkle with a little oregano in place of the za’atar.

The moist vegetables that make the salad so refreshing can also render it watery and dilute the dressing. Salting then draining the cucumber and tomatoes helps eliminate some of their juices. Cutting the vegetables into tiny cubes, though very attractive, produces a lot more vegetable water, so I prefer pieces cut all the same size, but not too fine. If the salad does become watery despite all precautions (it naturally exudes juices as it sits), serve it with a large slotted spoon and pass some extra dressing at the table.

3 cucumbers, peeled if waxed or if peel is bitter-tasting or thick, seeded, and cubed

Coarse kosher salt

5 or 6 tomatoes, cored, seeded, and cut into small pieces

3 large sweet red peppers (I also like to add a couple of fresh, mildly hot red peppers, like smoky aji dulce or Hungarian wax peppers), seeds and membranes removed, flesh cut into cubes

1 cup thinly sliced scallions (about 5), white and light green parts only

1 cup chopped flat-leaf parsley

1⁄2 cup mixed fresh herbs (preferably at least 2 of the following: dill, mint, cilantro)

FOR THE DRESSING

About 1⁄4 cup best-quality extra virgin olive oil

About 3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

1 large garlic clove, minced

About 3⁄4 teaspoon ground cumin, preferably freshly toasted and ground

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

About 1 teaspoon smoked paprika (optional)

About 1 teaspoon grated lemon zest (optional)

Optional garnish: za’atar

LINE a colander or wire-mesh sieve with a double thickness of paper towels. Add the cucumbers and toss them with 2 teaspoons salt. Cover with more paper towels and weight the cucumbers down with a heavy object like a can of tomatoes. Set the colander over a bowl, and let drain in the refrigerator for 1 hour.

IN a large serving bowl, toss the tomatoes with 1⁄2 teaspoon salt, and set aside until the tomatoes throw off a small pool of juice.

PREPARE the dressing: combine the ingredients in a jar and shake to blend well. Taste and adjust seasonings; it should be deeply flavored, as the juices exuded by the vegetables will continue to dilute it.

WHEN you are ready to serve the salad, discard the juice the tomatoes have released, and pat them dry. Rinse the cucumbers lightly, squeeze to rid them of as much water as possible, and pat them dry. Add the cucumbers and the remaining salad ingredients to the bowl, and toss with enough dressing to moisten all ingredients thoroughly. Taste and adjust seasoning. If desired, finish with a liberal dusting of za’atar (1 tablespoon or more, to taste). Pass any remaining dressing separately.

RHUBARB-PRUNE TSIMMES

YIELD: ABOUT 4 SERVINGS

When it comes to combining foods, I’m not one for hard and fast rules. I’ve been seduced by cheese cake made supernal with a zap of ground chiles, and I adore savory meats, poultry, and even fish perfumed and mellowed by fruits. But unmitigated sugariness makes my mouth say dessert; fruits must have a spicy or tart accompaniment to segue gracefully into a main course. To me, a tsimmes (sweetened, festive fruit and vegetable stew, with or without meat) of sweet fruits is one-dimensional without some tang or heat.

To provide well-nuanced character here, I add the sprightly bloom of fresh rhubarb to sweet-and-sour prunes and fragrant honey for a meatless tsimmes irresistible as a side dish or condiment for poultry or meat. Make this tsimmes in spring or early summer with big-flavored field rhubarb or year-round with the milder lipstick-pink hothouse variety.

2 cups chopped onion

2 tablespoons mild olive or canola oil

2 garlic cloves, finely chopped (2 teaspoons)

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1⁄4 cup fragrant honey (floral like lime or orange blossom, or herbal like lavender or thyme, would be perfect)

1⁄4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1^1⁄2 cups carrots, scrubbed (and scraped if desired), cut into 1-inch chunks

1 cup prune juice

1 pound rhubarb, ends trimmed (discard leaves—they can be toxic), tough strings removed with a vegetable peeler, and stalks cut into 1-inch pieces (4 cups)

1^1⁄2 cups pitted prunes, halved, or quartered if large

IN a 10-inch, heavy skillet, sauté the onion in the oil over medium heat until wilted, about 5 minutes. Stir in the garlic and cook for a minute or two. Sprinkle generously with salt and pepper to taste, turn the heat down to medium-low, cover, and sweat the mixture slowly, stirring occasionally, until the onions are quite soft but still pale-colored, 10 to 15 minutes.

ADD the honey and cinnamon, and mix until well distributed. Add the carrots and cook, stirring, for about 5 minutes.

ADD the prune juice and bring the mixture to a boil. Add the rhubarb and the prunes and simmer over moderate heat, stirring every once in a while, until the rhubarb is soft and the carrots are tender but not falling apart, 12 to 18 minutes.

TURN the heat up to high and boil the mixture, uncovered, until the liquid in the pan is thick and syrupy. Taste and adjust seasoning.

SPINACH CHEESE SQUARES

YIELD: 6 TO 8 SERVINGS

Mediterranean Jews so adore fresh spinach that little mountains of the leftover emerald “tails” are a hallmark of their holiday cooking. Called ravikos by Sephardim and testine di spinaci by Italian Jews, these stems are slow-braised until they turn almost red. They are usually served Thursday nights, when it is customary to eat lightly in preparation for the next day’s feasting, and a large stockpile of them has accumulated from the Sabbath preparations.

The leaves often end up in light, eggy vegetable gratins, a Sephardi specialty, especially popular at the desayuno, a festive brunch served after morning services on Sabbath and holidays.

Notwithstanding spinach’s bad rap, even kids seem to love these crustless, cheesy squares, here freshened up with plenty of green herbs. Good hot, warm, or at room temperature, they make a fine lunch, brunch, or light supper. Or cut them into bite-size pieces for a marvelous hors d’oeuvre. They freeze beautifully.

2 pounds fresh spinach or two 10-ounce packages frozen leaf spinach, thawed

3 tablespoons unsalted butter, plus additional butter (or oil) for greasing the pan

1⁄2 cup chopped shallots or 1 cup chopped onion

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

4 ounces cream cheese (1⁄2 cup), softened

4 ounces of crumbled feta (1 cup; break it up well using your fingers)

1⁄2 pound farmer cheese (7.5 ounce package is fine)

4 large eggs

2 teaspoons dried oregano or mint

3⁄4 cup finely chopped fresh dill

1⁄2 cup finely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley

3 tablespoons matzoh meal

3 tablespoons shredded Cheddar or grated Parmesan cheese

3 to 4 tablespoons pine nuts, lightly toasted (optional)

IF using fresh spinach, wash it thoroughly to remove all traces of sand. Cut off any tough stems and discard them. Place the spinach with just the water that clings to its leaves in a large saucepan. Cover and cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until wilted, about 8 minutes.

PLACE the cooked fresh or the thawed frozen spinach in a colander and, with your hands or the back of a spoon, press out as much liquid as possible. It should be rather dry. Chop the spinach fine.

MELT the butter in a large skillet. Add the shallots or onion and sauté until softened, 5 to 7 minutes. Add the spinach and cook, stirring, until the spinach is tender and the butter is absorbed, 3 to 5 minutes. Season with salt (just a bit—remember that the cheeses can be rather salty) and pepper. Set aside to cool.

PREHEAT the oven to 350°F.

COMBINE the cream cheese, feta, and farmer cheese in a food processor and blend well. Break the eggs into a glass measuring cup with a pouring spout. With the machine running, add the eggs, one at a time, through the feed tube, and process until smooth. Crumble in the oregano or mint. Add the spinach mixture, dill, and parsley, and pulse about 15 seconds to combine well; do not puree.

GREASE a 13 by 9-inch baking pan and sprinkle the bottom and sides with the matzoh meal. Pour the spinach batter into the pan and smooth the top. Sprinkle with the Cheddar or Parmesan, scatter the pine nuts over evenly, if using, and bake for about 40 minutes, until lightly golden and the edges start to pull away from the sides of the pan. It should feel slightly firm, but it will not set until it has cooled for at least 20 minutes. Serve warm (reheat if necessary) or at room temperature, cut into squares.

COOK’S NOTE: Beautifully fresh Swiss chard is increasingly available in markets these days. It is much easier to clean than spinach, and I find its sweet yet distinctively earthy green leaves make an excellent substitute in this recipe.

I also vary the cheeses; experiment with some of your favorites, using a mixture of mild (Jarlsberg, Gruyère, Muenster, cottage cheese) and sharp (Kasseri, kashkaval, Cheddar, Parmesan).

KASHA VARNISHKES WITH FRIED EGGPLANT, MUSHROOMS, AND ONION MARMALADE

YIELD: 6 TO 8 SERVINGS

Properly cooked so it remains dry and fluffy, kasha, when mixed with noodles, could swallow up butter or chicken fat by the cupful. I remove the temptation to slather on lots of fat by moistening this hearty grain with plenty of caramelized onions and mushrooms. I also add sautéed eggplant for the same reason: fried cubes of it, like mushrooms, bring a melting butteriness to foods.

Though most American recipes for kasha varnishkes call for bow tie noodles, I find them too thick and starchy here, requiring, like the kasha, a lot of additional moisture. I break wide noodles in half to resemble the square noodles originally used—and best suited—for this dish.

The eggplant, mushrooms, and onions enrich and lighten the kasha varnishkes at the same time. You don’t really need all three (and if pressed for time, you could eliminate either the mushrooms or the eggplant—or the noodles), but cooked together this is a very satisfying dish, substantial enough to serve as centerpiece for a delicious vegetarian meal (or near-vegetarian, if using chicken broth). To simplify preparations, make it in advance, up to the point of heating the ingredients in the oven. And you need to use only one skillet for all the vegetables.

1 large eggplant (1 to 1^1⁄4 pounds), peeled and cut into 1-inch cubes

Coarse kosher salt

About 1⁄2 cup olive oil

1^1⁄2 pounds onions, coarsely chopped (6 cups)

Freshly ground black pepper

1 to 2 tablespoons fresh thyme or marjoram leaves

About 1⁄2 pound mushrooms, wiped clean, trimmed, and sliced (2 cups)

1 tablespoon chopped garlic

1 large egg

1 cup kasha, preferably coarse-grind

2 cups chicken broth, preferably homemade, Vegetable Stock, or good-quality, low-sodium purchased

4 ounces broad (wide) egg noodles (broken in half, if desired)

Olive Oil Schmaltz, Poultry Schmaltz, margarine, or if using vegetable broth, butter (optional)

1⁄4 cup finely minced scallions or 3 to 4 tablespoons chopped fresh chives, for garnish

2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley, for garnish

PUT the eggplant in a colander, and sprinkle evenly with 2 teaspoons salt. Weight the eggplant down (I use a plate or bowl with a large can of tomatoes on top), and let drain for about 1 hour, stirring the pieces around after 30 minutes. Rinse the eggplant and press it very dry with paper towels.

WHILE the eggplant is draining, heat 3 tablespoons oil in a 10- to 12-inch heavy skillet over medium heat. Add the onions and salt and pepper them lightly. Cook for 2 minutes, stirring so they are thoroughly coated with oil. Cover, turn the heat down to the lowest simmer, and cook slowly until the onions are meltingly tender, 35 to 40 minutes. Stir from time to time to make sure the onions don’t burn. When they are very soft, remove the lid, raise the heat to high, and brown them to a rich caramel gold. Stir frequently with a wooden spoon to redistribute the syrupy juices. If necessary, turn the heat down a bit to prevent the onions from sticking and burning. When the onions are thick and jam-like, stir in the thyme or marjoram. Adjust the seasoning and transfer the mixture to a very large bowl.

LIGHTLY rinse out the skillet and dry it. Add 2 tablespoons fresh oil and turn the heat to high. Add the mushrooms and cook, stirring frequently, until they release some juice, about 5 minutes. Sprinkle with salt and pepper, add the garlic, and continue sautéing, lifting and turning often until all the liquid has evaporated and the mushrooms are golden brown, about 7 minutes. Add the mushrooms to the onions.

WIPE out the skillet and in it heat the remaining 3 tablespoons oil over medium-high heat until hot, but not smoking. Add the eggplant in batches, if necessary, and fry until tender and lightly browned on both sides. Add more oil to the skillet, if needed, but always make sure the oil is very hot before adding the eggplant—this will prevent the eggplant from absorbing too much oil. Transfer the eggplant to the onions and mushrooms in the bowl.

PREHEAT the oven to 350°F.

PREPARE the kasha: in a medium bowl, beat the egg with a fork. Stir in the kasha and mix until each grain is thoroughly coated with egg. Heat the broth to simmering. In a heavy medium skillet with high sides or a wide heavy saucepan, toast the kasha over medium heat, turning and breaking up the kasha constantly until the egg begins to dry and the grains separate, about 3 minutes. Add the hot broth and salt and pepper to taste, then cover and simmer over very low heat until tender and all the liquid is absorbed, about 10 minutes.

MEANWHILE, bring 2 quarts water and 1^1⁄2 teaspoons salt to a rolling boil. Add the noodles, and cook until tender but still firm to the bite. Drain and stir into the vegetables.

IN a lightly greased 3-quart shallow casserole, combine the kasha with the other ingredients. Adjust the seasoning to taste. If the mixture seems dry, add schmaltz or dot with margarine or butter as needed. Bake just until heated through. Sprinkle with the scallions or chives and the parsley and serve hot.

ONION-CRUSTED LIGHT POTATO KUGEL

YIELD: 8 TO 10 SERVINGS

Some people tear off long ribbons of crisp skin from freshly roasted birds. Others will pick off the nuts or steal the chocolate curls from picture-perfect cakes.

This kugel is made for the onion snatchers: a lavish, meltingly tender layer of sweet, bronze-edged onions, aromatic with rosemary, beckons from atop the crisp crust. I add mashed potatoes to the grated raw ones for an especially light and creamy interior.

1^1⁄2 pounds onions, very thinly sliced (6 cups)

Kosher salt

6 tablespoons olive oil

1 teaspoon minced garlic

Freshly ground black pepper

6 large or 8 medium russet (baking) potatoes, peeled

4 large eggs

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 to 2 tablespoons chopped fresh rosemary leaves

Best-quality extra virgin oil, for drizzling

SEPARATE the onion into rings. To extract moisture, toss in a large bowl with 2 teaspoons salt and set aside for about 20 minutes. Stir the onions around from time to time. Dry the onions between sheets of paper towels or cotton kitchen towels, pressing down to soak up as much of the exuded liquid as you can.

IN a 10- to 12-inch heavy skillet, heat 3 tablespoons oil over medium-high heat. Add the onions and garlic, and cook, lifting and tossing with a spatula as they soften and become golden brown, 15 to 20 minutes. The mixture should be well salted and peppery, so season accordingly. Set aside to cool.

DICE 2 (if large) or 3 (if medium) of the potatoes and place in a saucepan of salted water. Bring to a boil, then simmer until the potatoes are tender. Mash the potatoes, using a ricer, food mill, or masher, until smooth, and place in a very large bowl. Stir in about half of the fried onions, setting the rest aside.

PREHEAT the oven to 400°F.

GRATE the remaining potatoes using the medium shredding disk in a food processor or over the large holes of a hand grater. Place the grated potatoes in a colander or large strainer and rinse well under cold water to remove most of the starch. Squeeze out as much liquid as possible, then add them to the mashed potatoes. Beat the eggs in another bowl until thick and light. Whisk in the baking powder. Combine the eggs with the potatoes and season generously with salt and pepper.

POUR 3 tablespoons oil into a large, shallow baking pan (13 by 9-inch or similar size, preferably enameled cast-iron or metal, not glass). Thoroughly rub the oil around the bottom and sides of the pan and place in the oven until sizzling hot. Transfer the potatoes to the pan and spread with a spatula; top with the remaining fried onions. Sprinkle with the rosemary. Drizzle with the extra virgin oil. If you love salty crusts, you may want to sprinkle a bit more coarse salt and some pepper over the top.

BAKE for about 30 minutes on the uppermost shelf of the oven, then turn the temperature down to 350°F. Continue baking for 25 to 40 minutes longer, until the kugel is firm, the top is golden, and the onions are crispy.

LET the kugel cool until set. If necessary, reheat before serving.

FRESH CORN KUGEL

YIELD: 6 TO 8 SERVINGS

Thickened only by creamy pureed corn kernels and scented with flowery dill, this summery kugel depends for sweetness on truly fresh corn, whose sugars have not yet begun the descent into starch. Pale white corn will produce an exquisitely subtle kugel; more robust yellow kernels make for a richer pudding with a decidedly corny taste.

1⁄2 cup chopped onion

1 tablespoon mild olive, canola, or avocado oil, plus additional for greasing the pan

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

3^1⁄2 cups fresh corn kernels, cut from 3 to 7 ears of sweet corn (the number of ears will depend on whether you use the slim, silvery white–kernel corn or thicker, butter-yellow varieties)

1 cup chicken broth, preferably homemade or good-quality, low-sodium purchased

4 large eggs

2 tablespoons chopped fresh dill

2 tablespoons toasted matzoh crumbs (egg matzohs are especially nice) or toasted matzoh meal

PREHEAT the oven to 325°F.

IN a 7- or 8-inch skillet, sauté the onions in the oil over moderate heat, stirring, until very soft, 7 to 8 minutes. The onions should remain tender and sweet, so don’t allow them to color past gold. Season with salt and pepper, and set aside to cool.

PUT 2 cups of the corn in a food processor or blender. Add 1⁄2 cup of the broth and puree the mixture until smooth, scraping down the bowl when necessary. Add the remaining 1⁄2 cup broth, salt and pepper to taste, and pulse to combine well.

LIGHTLY grease the bottom and sides of a 12-inch gratin dish or shallow 3-quart baking pan.

IN a large bowl, beat the eggs until thick and light. Stir in the dill, the cooled onion, the pureed corn, and the remaining 1^1⁄2 cups whole corn kernels. Transfer the mixture to the prepared dish.

SEASON the matzoh crumbs with salt and pepper, and sprinkle over the top of the kugel.

PLACE the gratin dish inside a larger baking pan and pour enough boiling or scalding-hot tap water to come two-thirds of the way up the sides of the gratin dish. Bake the kugel for about 1 hour and 10 minutes, until the golden brown top is puffed slightly and a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean.

LET the kugel cool for at least 25 minutes, until set, before cutting into wedges to serve. Reheat if necessary.

SAUTÉED CABBAGE AND GARLIC NOODLE KUGEL

YIELD: 6 TO 8 SERVINGS

Like potatoes, beets, and carrots, protean cabbage turned up on Ashkenazi tables in many forms, from tart sauerkraut to a sugared filling for delicate strudel dough, not to mention lusty cabbage soup and meat-stuffed cabbage rolls. A favorite among Central European Jews was an irresistible tangle of sautéed cabbage ribbons and golden egg noodles, lavishly sprinkled with poppy or caraway seeds.

First parboiled, the cabbage is then lightly browned, intensifying its flavors to a nutty sweetness, which is heightened by the poppy seeds. Garlic cloves—lots of them—are my addition. They’re very slowly sautéed until the olive oil is deeply flavored and the garlic is soft and mellow.

I’ve also added eggs and broth, and made the recipe a kugel, or baked pudding. Sturdy, economical dishes that can be cooked ahead and reheated for holiday meals, kugels were originally starchy puddings baked along with the Sabbath cholent. Eventually, they became very popular and Jewish cooks began baking them in separate pans, binding the ingredients—savory or sweet—with eggs and thickening them with various starches. They remain well-liked today, especially potato and noodle puddings, for preparing a kugel is an excellent way to avoid last-minute preparation and give “staying power” to a side dish or vegetable.

This kugel complements any grilled or roasted meat or chicken.

2 tablespoons toasted matzoh meal or toasted bread crumbs

One medium-to-large head of green cabbage (1^1⁄2 to 2 pounds)

Salt

8 ounces medium flat egg noodles (not the twisted spiral kind, which won’t absorb as much of the flavoring)

5 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, plus additional for greasing the pan

1⁄4 cup garlic cloves, coarsely chopped

3 tablespoons poppy seeds

Freshly ground black pepper

6 large eggs

2 cups chicken broth, preferably homemade, Vegetable Stock, or good-quality, low-sodium purchased

PREPARE a 13 by 9-inch baking pan: grease it well and sprinkle the bottom with the matzoh meal, shaking out any excess.

START the cabbage: discard any bruised or tough outer leaves, then cut the head into six wedges. Trim away the hard center core. In a large pot or Dutch oven, bring 4 to 5 quarts cold water and 1 tablespoon salt to a rolling boil. Add the cabbage, and cook, uncovered, for 8 to 10 minutes, until the cabbage is just tender. Reserving the cooking water in the pot, scoop out the cabbage with a slotted spoon and transfer it to a colander to drain.

BRING the reserved cabbage cooking water back to a boil in the pot and in it cook the noodles until they are just tender. Drain them well, then transfer to a large bowl and toss them with 1 tablespoon of the oil.

IN a 10- to 12-inch heavy skillet, warm the remaining 4 tablespoons oil over very gentle heat. Add the garlic and cook slowly, stirring occasionally, until the garlic turns palest blond, 8 to 10 minutes. Scoop out the garlic with a slotted spoon and set it aside in a small bowl. Reserve the oil, now deliciously infused with garlic, in the skillet.

PREHEAT the oven to 350°F.

USING your hands, squeeze out as much liquid as possible from the cabbage. (Alternatively, you can press down on the cabbage with the back of a spoon, if you are reluctant to use your hands, although I find this method less efficient.) Lay the cabbage between layers of paper towels and press to remove surface moisture. Slice the cabbage into coarse shreds, then cut the shreds into bite-size pieces.

HEAT the reserved garlic oil in the skillet over moderately high heat. Toss in the cabbage and sauté, lifting and turning over high heat, until it is flecked here and there with a nutty brown, about 10 minutes. Add the reserved garlic and the poppy seeds, season generously with salt and pepper, and cook, stirring for 2 to 3 minutes to marry the flavors. Remove the pan from the heat and let it cool slightly.

ASSEMBLE the kugel: in a large bowl, whisk together the eggs and broth until smooth. Stir in the noodles and the cabbage, and combine thoroughly. Spoon the mixture evenly into the prepared baking dish and bake for 50 minutes, or until the kugel feels firm, its lightly browned edges are pulling away from the sides, and a knife inserted in the center comes out clean.

ALLOW the kugel to set for at least 25 minutes before cutting into squares to serve. Reheat if necessary.

JEWELED BROWN RICE

YIELD: 7 TO 8 SERVINGS

My family loves rice with gems of tangy dried fruit, pistachios, and almonds. Eager to include more whole grains at our table, I prepare this version using brown rice.

Brown rice suffers undeserved bad press, most likely because its nutty goodness is so often marred by a soggy, sticky texture. To keep the grains separate and fluffy, I bake the rice spread out in a shallow pan and hold off adding the fruit and other embellishments until the rice is fully cooked.

2 cups brown basmati rice

4 cups chicken broth, preferably homemade, Vegetable Stock, or good-quality, low-sodium purchased

Salt

1^1⁄2 cups dried fruit, pitted and coarsely chopped (aim for the tart/sweet balance you prefer, choosing sour or sweet varieties of at least two of the following: cherries, apricots, cranberries, dates, and prunes)

6 tablespoons mild olive, canola, or avocado oil

Saffron threads, 2 pinches

3 cups chopped onion

1⁄4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

3⁄4 cup pistachios, lightly toasted and coarsely chopped

PREHEAT the oven to 375°F.

RINSE the rice well in cold water, drain it, and combine with the stock and 1 tablespoon salt (less if your stock is salty) in a 13 by 9-inch baking dish. Spread the ingredients evenly in the pan, cover tightly with foil, and bake for 1 hour.

MEANWHILE, put the dried fruit in a bowl, cover with warm water, and let soak. Crush saffron into a small bowl. Warm 3 tablespoons oil in a small saucepan, then whisk it into the saffron. Set aside to infuse.

IN a large heavy skillet, heat the remaining 3 tablespoons oil over medium-high heat. Add the onions, sprinkle lightly with salt, and sauté, lifting and tossing occasionally, until the onions are tender and colored a rich gold. Don’t let them get crisp or brown. Stir in the cinnamon and cook for 2 minutes over medium heat, stirring. Drain the fruit (discarding the liquid) and add it to the onions. Cook for a few minutes, stirring, to blend the flavors. Remove the skillet from the heat and set aside until the rice is cooked.

WHEN the rice is done, turn the oven down to 350°F. Sprinkle the saffron oil over the rice and toss gently to coat the grains evenly. Add the onion-fruit mixture and combine well. Cover the pan with the foil and bake for 10 minutes. Taste and adjust salt.

FLUFF the rice with a fork, scatter the pistachios over the top, and serve.

COOK’S NOTE: This is usually given a little orange flavor with candied orange peel or a couple of drops of orange extract (a flavoring extract like vanilla). We prefer it without any orange, but you may enjoy it that way.

DRIED FRUIT COMPOTE WITH FRESH PINEAPPLE, PISTACHIOS, AND MINT

YIELD: 8 TO 10 GENEROUS SERVINGS

When the chill weather comes, old-fashioned dried fruit compotes are the classic finish to simple Sabbath dinners. Light and wholesome, they taste of deep flavors and contain no milk products to compromise the dietary laws.

But there’s the rub. Without the tart dairy tang of sour cream, crème fraîche, or yogurt as complement, the meltingly silky fruit turns cloyingly sugary after just a few bites. A sweet compote needs a bright acidic sparkle to pull its flavors into balance.

Fresh ripe pineapple is the answer. Its brash tart-sweetness is not overwhelmed by the dark-winy dried fruit. Simmered in tea that’s been infused with orange and spices, the dried fruit matures in the refrigerator for a day or two—three or four is even better (the compote will keep for up to two weeks in the refrigerator). Just before serving, I stir in chunks of sassy-sweet, beautifully perfumed pineapple, a crunch of pistachios or almonds, and chopped fresh mint.

If avoiding dairy is not a concern, serve the compote—with or without the pineapple—with sour cream, crème fraîche, yogurt cream, or labneh, for dessert or a delightful breakfast. The compote also makes a wonderful companion to cheese blintzes.

2 bags fragrant black tea, such as Earl Grey, English Breakfast, Assam, or Darjeeling

One 2-inch piece vanilla bean, split

1 cinnamon stick

2 or 3 cardamom pods, crushed

3 whole cloves

1⁄2 cup sugar minus 1 tablespoon; if not using dates, use 1⁄2 cup sugar

Pinch of salt

1⁄2 fresh orange

1 pound pitted prunes (about 2^1⁄2 cups)

1⁄2 cup dried apricots, halved, or quartered if large

1⁄4 cup dates, pitted and chopped (optional)

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

1 perfectly ripe fresh pineapple, peeled, cored and cut into bite-size chunks (see Cook’s Note)

Chopped toasted pistachios, or sliced blanched almonds, for garnish

Chopped fresh mint, for garnish

IN a 4- to 5-quart heavy saucepan, combine 3 cups water, the tea bags, vanilla bean, cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, sugar, salt, and a wide strip of zest (with no white pith) cut from the orange (reserve the rest of the orange). Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer, stirring occasionally, for 10 minutes. Remove the tea bags, cinnamon, cardamom, and cloves, and discard them, leaving the vanilla bean and orange zest in the pan.

ADD the dried fruit to the pan, stir well, cover, and simmer gently for 30 to 35 minutes, until the fruit is very tender. Lift out the orange zest and discard it. Find the vanilla bean and either discard it or rinse it so it can be reused. Stir in the juice from the reserved 1⁄2 orange and the lemon juice.

COOL the compote to room temperature, then cover it tightly. Refrigerate for at least 6 hours. But the compote tastes best if prepared a day or two before you plan to serve it, so the flavors can fully unfold, mingle, and mature.

JUST before serving, gently toss the pineapple with the compote and spoon the mixture into pretty glass bowls or large stemmed glasses. (If you don’t plan to serve all of the compote at one meal, toss only part of the pineapple with the compote in the serving bowls, reserving the remaining pineapple to be added just before serving the rest of the compote). Top with pistachios or almonds and a sprinkle of fresh mint.

COOK’S NOTE: Other spice combinations work well here: try vanilla with black peppercorns or a Turkish bay leaf, or experiment with some of your own favorites. Or eliminate the spices and add amaretto or Frangelico. Replace the sugar with orange blossom honey or with half sugar and half raspberry preserves.

Both the new, super-sweet variety of fresh pineapple and canned pineapple lack the requisite tang essential for this recipe. If you can’t find a fresh, tart-sweet pineapple, substitute navel or blood oranges, peeled and sliced.

JEWISH SAUTÉED APPLE CAKE

YIELD: 10 TO 12 SERVINGS

No, it doesn’t look Jewish, and no, it’s not the apples or the batter. It’s the oil that identifies this old-fashioned cake as Jewish in both synagogue and church cookbooks alike. Dairy-free, the cake could grace a meat meal, and its easy simplicity made it ubiquitous on Ashkenazi Shabbat and holiday tables.

But truth to tell, the cake is not really about oil at all: it’s all about the apples. And the more apples you can fit into the cake, the better the flavor. So I take the extra step of sautéing them, which greatly reduces them in volume and, at the same time, brings out all the caramelly goodness of the fruit’s sugars.

Using insipid apples—especially since so many of them are called for here—will just produce a big “is that it?” So choose a balance of sweet and tangy kinds or a single well-flavored variety full of complex tastes. Forget Red Delicious and go for big flavor and the freshest fruit you can find.

This is a great make-ahead dessert: the flavors deepen, and the taste actually improves the next day.

FOR THE APPLES

2 to 3 tablespoons avocado, canola, or other mild oil, plus additional for greasing pan

8 cups tart and sweet apples, peeled and sliced 1⁄2-inch thick

1⁄2 cup packed brown sugar

1⁄2 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

FOR THE BATTER

2^1⁄2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1⁄4 teaspoon salt

1⁄8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

3 large eggs

1^1⁄4 cups sugar

3⁄4 cup avocado, canola, sunflower, or other mild oil

1⁄2 cup unsweetened applesauce

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

GENEROUSLY grease a 10-inch springform pan.

PREPARE the apples: heat the oil over medium-high heat in a very large, heavy skillet with steep sides (avoid nonstick here; it won’t caramelize the apples well) until it is hot, but not smoking. Sauté the apples in batches over medium-high heat until they are golden brown on both sides, transferring them to a large platter as they are done. When you have finished sautéing the apples, put them all back into the pan, sprinkle with the brown sugar and salt, and cook, lifting and turning them, until the sugar dissolves and the apples are very tender and lightly caramelized. Sprinkle with the lemon juice and cinnamon, and cook for about 3 more minutes to mingle the flavors and evaporate any pan liquid. Set the apples aside to cool.

PREHEAT the oven to 350°F.

MAKE the batter: stir together the flour, baking powder, cinnamon, salt, and nutmeg in a large bowl.

IN another large bowl, using an electric mixer, beat the eggs with the sugar until pale and thick, about 5 minutes. Beat in the oil, applesauce, and vanilla.

WITH the mixer on low speed, gradually beat in the dry ingredients. Continue beating until the batter is smooth.

POUR half the batter into the prepared pan. Cover with half the apples. Spoon the remaining batter over the apples and arrange the rest of the apples on top. Bake until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean; begin checking at 1^1⁄2 hours, but because of the moist apple layer in the middle, the cake can take up to 2 hours or more.

LET the cake cool on a rack before you remove the sides.

COOK’S NOTE: The cake will take considerably less time to bake if prepared in a 13 by 9-inch pan, with a single layer of batter, topped by a single layer of apples, though the presentation will not be quite as attractive.

ROASTED APPLE–WALNUT NOODLE KUGEL

YIELD: 6 TO 8 SERVINGS

Here apples combine with walnuts and prunes to work an alchemy of golden autumn tastes. For a tempting dairy version, see the variation that follows.

1⁄3 cup packed brown sugar

2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

2 cups unsweetened apple juice

1⁄2 cup granulated sugar

1⁄3 cup pitted prunes, quartered

1^1⁄2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Salt

4 ounces medium flat egg noodles (not the twisted spiral kind, which won’t absorb as much of the liquids and flavoring)

1⁄2 cup walnuts, lightly toasted and coarsely chopped

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1⁄8 teaspoon nutmeg, preferably freshly grated, or mace

4 large eggs, separated

1⁄3 cup graham cracker crumbs (optional)

PREHEAT the oven to 400°F. Line a large baking sheet or very shallow roasting pan with lightly greased foil and on it spread out the apples in a single layer, rounded sides down (so that most of the sugar will be trapped and melted in the curve, rather than sliding off onto the pan). Sprinkle with the brown sugar and lemon juice and roast in the middle of the oven until lightly browned and just tender, 25 to 35 minutes, depending on the variety of apples. Turn the apples over halfway through the cooking process, and spoon the accumulated syrupy juices over them. Remove the apples from the oven and reduce the oven temperature to 350°F. When the apples are cool enough to handle, cut into large chunks.

GREASE an 8- or 9-inch square baking pan (or other shallow 8- to 10-cup baking pan) thoroughly.

IN a wide, heavy medium saucepan, combine the apple juice, granulated sugar, prunes, vanilla, and a pinch of salt. Bring to a boil and continue cooking over high heat, stirring occasionally, until reduced by about half. Remove from the heat and cool slightly.

BRING 2 quarts cold water and 1 teaspoon salt to a rapid boil in a large saucepan. Add the noodles and cook until tender. Drain well. In a large bowl, combine the noodles, prune mixture, roasted apples, walnuts, cinnamon, and nutmeg. In a separate bowl, beat the egg yolks well until thick and light, and stir into the mixture. In a clean bowl, beat the whites until stiff but not dry. Gently fold about one third of the whites into the batter, then fold in the rest.

TURN the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top. If desired, sprinkle with graham cracker crumbs.

BAKE the kugel for about 45 minutes, or until it feels firm, the sides pull away slightly, and the top is lightly browned. Let cool completely to set. You can eat it at room temperature, but to really savor the toasty apple flavors, warm the kugel until heated through. It may not cut neatly, and perhaps it will appear somewhat messy on the plate, but it will taste divine.

COOK’S NOTE: This is also lovely flavored with a little crystallized ginger.

Dairy Version Follow the above recipe, up through combining noodles, prune mixture, roasted apples, walnuts, and spices. In a separate bowl, use an electric mixer on low speed to beat 8 ounces cream cheese (softened and cut into bits) with 1 cup evaporated milk until smooth and fluffy. Beat in the yolks. Combine this with the noodle-prune-apple mixture, then fold in the beaten whites, as above. Pour into a slightly larger pan (at least 9 inches square) that has been well greased. Sprinkle top with 1⁄2 cup graham cracker crumbs mixed with 3 tablespoons melted butter. Bake for 45 to 50 minutes at 350°F, following the directions for cooking and serving above.

UPSIDE-DOWN CARAMEL-CRANBERRY-PECAN NOODLE KUGEL

YIELD: ABOUT 12 SERVINGS

I don’t like complicated desserts. Those that do require a bit more fuss must still retain their innocence—which is why many of my favorites are as likely to show up on the breakfast table as at teatime or dinner’s end.

I’m particularly fond of noodle pudding, or kugel, whose lush, melting texture is forgiving enough even for the most pastry-shy and invites lots of homey experimentation. I always prepare it in large quantities because leftovers make such wonderful brunches and snacks.

This kugel, blanketed with warm, gooey caramel zapped with tart cranberries, is lovely on a crisp, autumn Shabbat afternoon—or morning.

FOR THE TOPPING

10 tablespoons (1^1⁄4 sticks) unsalted butter, plus additional for greasing the pan

2^1⁄2 cups cranberries, washed, picked over, and patted dry

1 cup lightly toasted pecans, coarsely chopped

1^1⁄3 cups packed dark brown sugar

1⁄4 teaspoon salt

FOR THE KUGEL

Salt

12 ounces wide, flat egg noodles (not the twisted spiral kind, which won’t absorb as much of the liquids and flavoring)

4 tablespoons (1⁄2 stick) unsalted butter, melted

1⁄2 cup dried cranberries (if very dry, plump them in very hot tap water for 20 minutes and drain before using)

8 ounces cream cheese, softened and cut into bits

1 cup small-curd creamed cottage cheese (see Cook’s Note)

1 cup sour cream

5 large eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1⁄2 cup pure maple syrup or granulated sugar

MAKE the topping: generously butter the bottom and sides of a 13 by 9-inch glass baking dish and scatter the cranberries and pecans evenly on the bottom.

IN a heavy medium saucepan, combine the brown sugar, butter, and salt. Cook over medium heat, stirring, until the mixture comes to a boil. Pour this caramel evenly over the cranberries and pecans in the pan.

FOR the kugel, bring 5 quarts of cold water and 1^1⁄2 teaspoons salt to a rapid boil in a large pot. Add the noodles and cook until just tender. Drain the noodles and return them to the pot. Stir the butter in until melted and let cool.

MIX the dried cranberries into the noodles (I like to use my fingers to toss them together, breaking up any clumps of dried fruit).

IN a very large bowl, beat the cream cheese on low speed until smooth and fluffy. Gradually beat in each of the following, one by one, until well blended: the cottage cheese, sour cream, eggs, vanilla, maple syrup or sugar, and a generous pinch of salt. Add the noodles and toss until thoroughly combined. Spoon the cheese-noodle mixture evenly over the prepared cranberry-pecan topping in the pan. Smooth the top, then cover the pan with foil and refrigerate for at least 4 hours or, preferably, overnight.

PREHEAT the oven to 350°F.

BRING the kugel to room temperature. The baking pan will be quite full, so set it on a cookie sheet lined with foil, in case the bubbling caramel causes spillover. Uncover the pan and bake for about 1 hour, or until the top is golden-brown and feels firm, a knife inserted in the center comes out clean, and the sides of the kugel pull away from the pan slightly.

LET the kugel cool on a rack until set. The kugel is best warm (reheat if necessary) but also tasty at room temperature. Don’t serve it refrigerator-cold.

TO serve, run a thin-bladed knife around the edges to loosen the kugel, then place a large platter or cutting board over the baking pan. Holding the platter and baking pan together tightly with both hands, invert the baking pan over the platter. Remove the baking pan and replace any fruit or nuts remaining in the pan on top of the kugel. Or cut and serve the kugel directly from the pan, inverting the spatula as you place the kugel on individual dessert plates.

COOK’S NOTE: For a less rustic, more cheesecake-like texture, pass the cottage cheese through a fine-mesh strainer before combining it with the other ingredients.

CLASSIC NOODLE KUGEL

YIELD: 12 TO 16 SERVINGS

My cousins Sheila and Sheldon Lebowitz’s delectable classic noodle kugel is crunchy with a cinnamon-sugared cornflake crust. It’s a surefire crowd-pleaser with all generations.

FOR THE KUGEL

1 pound medium or wide flat egg noodles (not the twisted spiral kind, which won’t absorb as much of the liquids and flavoring)

Salt

8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted, plus additional for greasing the pan

8 ounces cream cheese, cut into bits and softened

1^1⁄2 cups sugar

5 large eggs

2 cups sour cream

1^1⁄2 cups milk

1 pound small-curd creamed cottage cheese (2 cups)

1 tablespoon vanilla extract

FOR THE TOPPING

2 cups cornflakes

1⁄4 cup packed brown sugar

1^1⁄2 to 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

PREHEAT the oven to 450°F.

IN a large pot, cook the noodles in 6 quarts lightly salted boiling water until just tender. Drain, return to the pot, and toss with about 4 tablespoons of the butter.

IN a very large bowl, combine the cream cheese, sugar, and the remaining butter. Beat on low speed until smooth. Beat in the eggs, one at a time, the sour cream, milk, cottage cheese, vanilla, and a generous pinch of salt. Fold in the noodles and combine well.

GENEROUSLY butter the bottom and sides of a 14 by 11-inch baking pan. Turn the noodle mixture into the pan and smooth it evenly.

MAKE the topping: Put the cornflakes in a large bowl and crush them coarsely using your fingers (or place them in a heavy plastic bag and crush with a rolling pin). Stir in the brown sugar and cinnamon to taste and combine well. Strew the crumbs evenly over the kugel.

BAKE the kugel for 5 minutes, then reduce the oven temperature to 350°F and continue baking for 1 hour, or until it feels firm, a knife inserted in the center comes out clean, and the sides of the kugel pull away from the pan slightly.

LET the kugel cool on a rack until set. It is best served warm (reheat if necessary) and also good at room temperature; don’t present it refrigerator-cold.

COOK’S NOTE: Sheila and Shelly often add an additional 8 ounces of noodles (a total of two 12-ounce packages) for a more substantial kugel.

Any—or all—of the following make delicious embellishments: 1 cup dried fruit (such as black or golden raisins, tart dried cherries or cranberries; if the fruit is very dry, plump first in hot tap water, then drain), 1 cup pecans, lightly toasted and coarsely chopped, or 2 cups apple or pear chunks, sautéed with brown sugar and cinnamon until tender.

BASICS

OLIVE OIL SCHMALTZ

POULTRY SCHMALTZ

CHICKEN SOUP WITH ASPARAGUS AND SHIITAKES, SERVED WITH ROASTED FENNEL MATZOH BALLS

MISHMASH KREPLACH (BEEF, POTATO, AND FRIED ONION KREPLACH)

CHICKPEAS WITH GARLIC AND BARBEQUE SPICES

BEEF STOCK

VEGETABLE STOCK

OLIVE OIL SCHMALTZ

YIELD: ABOUT 2⁄3 CUP

2 cups finely chopped onions

3⁄4 teaspoon salt

1⁄4 cup olive oil

IN a strainer, toss the onions with the salt. Cover them with a paper towel and weight down with a bowl or plate topped with a heavy object like a large can of tomatoes. Let the onions drain for at least 30 minutes, tossing them occasionally. Place the onions in fresh paper toweling or a clean kitchen towel, and squeeze out as much liquid as possible.

WARM the oil in an 8- or 9-inch heavy skillet. Add the onions and cook, uncovered, over the very lowest heat. As their moisture evaporates, the onions will shrink considerably and the ever-deepening gold oil will appear to increase. Stir occasionally, spreading the onions out in the skillet and making sure that they do not stick or color past gold. After cooking for 60 to 75 minutes, they should be very soft and have exuded most of their liquid. Let the mixture cool slightly, then scrape all the onions and oil into a blender (a food processor won’t work well here).

BLEND to emulsify the ingredients, stopping to scrape down the contents when necessary. Continue blending until you have a smooth, rich puree.

STORE tightly covered in the refrigerator. It will thicken and become more schmaltz-like when chilled. It will keep for at least 3 to 5 days.

POULTRY SCHMALTZ

YIELD: ABOUT 1 CUP

SAVE bits of fat and skin from chickens, ducks, and geese in the freezer until you have about 2 cups fat and a little skin. Trim away any poultry meat clinging to the fat or skin. Cut into small pieces and place in a heavy saucepan. Add about 1⁄2 cup water, turn heat to the lowest simmer, and cook slowly, uncovered, until the fat melts and the water is evaporated, 30 to 40 minutes. Add about 1⁄2 cup finely chopped yellow onion and continue cooking, stirring every once in a while, until the onion and poultry skin (griebenes) have become crisp and golden brown (do not let them get too dark or they will taste burnt and bitter). This can take up to 2 hours or more of unattended time, so you might want to double the recipe when you prepare it. (I usually do it when I am performing other slow-moving kitchen chores like making soup or baking.) Strain the fat through a fine-mesh sieve into a glass jar, tamping down on the griebenes to extract all the flavorful fat. Store the schmaltz and griebenes separately, tightly covered, in the refrigerator.

ADD the griebenes to chopped liver, chopped eggs and onions, and all potato dishes: kugels, blintzes, latkes, potato matzoh balls, or mashed potatoes. They would make a glorious substitute for bacon in a kosher BLT.

MATZOH

Plain matzoh is pure and elemental, wheaty-tasting without the spongy, yeasty quality of bread or the flavorings or additives of crackers, and is an ideal substitute for these starches in recipes. I use matzoh not only in Passover recipes, but also year-round, for matzoh brie, in some stuffings and kugels, and to make home-ground matzoh crumbs for crunchy coatings.

Why grind your own matzoh when perfectly acceptable matzoh meal is available in most supermarkets? Packaged matzoh meal is very finely ground, perfect for fluffy matzoh balls, meat loaf, latkes, and most kugels. But if you want a coarse, crumbly topping, particularly one combined with butter or oil and toasted until golden and crunchy, you need to grind your own. And for crumb coatings, I find the texture and flavor are superior when the crumbs are not ground uniformly. Also, there are times when fresh matzoh meal is not available, when you know that matzoh meal has been sitting on the grocer’s shelf—or yours—for far too long.

Then there are the flavored matzoh, especially egg matzoh: terrific, but unavailable ground unless you do it yourself.

TO MAKE MATZOH CRUMBS AND HOMEMADE MATZOH MEAL: Whirl small pieces of matzoh in a blender or food processor using the pulse motion until the desired texture is achieved. Or place in a resealable plastic bag and use a rolling pin or your hands to crush the matzoh. A medium grind with a slightly uneven texture is best for crumb coatings. Blend to the texture of sand for matzoh meal with a powdery consistency (and, if necessary, rub the fine crumbs through a fine-mesh sieve to remove any remaining coarse pieces).

TO TOAST MATZOH CRUMBS OR MATZOH MEAL: Preheat the oven to 350°F. In a baking pan, melt some butter, warm a little olive oil, or use a combination of both. Add matzoh crumbs or meal, season to taste with salt and pepper, toss to combine, and spread out in an even layer. Toast in the oven until fragrant and golden, 15 to 20 minutes, stirring every once in a while to redistribute the oil and prevent burning. Stir in other seasonings, if you’d like: spices and herbs (such as paprika, cumin, rosemary, or thyme), minced garlic, and grated cheese (2 to 3 tablespoons of Parmesan, hard Cheddar, or other well-flavored variety for every cup of matzoh crumbs or meal).

FLAVORED MATZOH (INCLUDING EGG, WHOLE WHEAT, AND EGG AND ONION, ETC.): Check the ingredients on the package. Some contain zesty -seasonings like onion or garlic and are excellent served as crackers or used in cooking as flavorful crumbs or savory stuffing. Whole-wheat matzoh is wonderful in Toasted Sesame-Cumin Matzohs (recipe follows). Egg matzoh, made simply of flour, egg yolks, and apple cider, is superb as a cracker (divine with cream cheese) or in matzoh brie. And it makes delicious crumbs—the slight sweetness from the cider provides an almost caramelized edge to the crumbs when they are toasted or fried.

But other flavored matzohs contain positively bizarre or inappropriate ingredients, like malt, rye, white and brown sugar, as well as additives and preservatives. So read the labels carefully.

AVAILABILITY AND STORAGE: Plain and several flavored kinds are available year-round in most supermarkets. (Although during Passover many Jews enjoy flavored matzoh, like the egg and whole-wheat varieties, which have been produced under stringent rabbinic supervision; strictly Orthodox Ashkenazi Jews eat only plain matzoh on Passover, reserving the flavored kinds for the rest of the year.)

Egg matzoh can usually be found for only a couple of months close to Passover. It sells out quickly and manufacturers often don’t make more until the next season. I buy several extra boxes when I find them and store them for later use.

Matzoh meal can usually be purchased year-round. In January or February, freshly produced matzoh meal for Passover makes its appearance in supermarkets. But if you find a box in December stamped for Passover use, it’s probably almost a year old and you might consider grinding your own from fresh matzoh.

Although matzoh and matzoh meal are generally not made with added oil (some flavored varieties might be), there is, of course, oil in the flour itself, which can turn rancid and musty after prolonged exposure to air. And moisture can make matzoh soggy. As with preservative-free crackers and bread crumbs, both matzoh and matzoh meal must be well wrapped to keep them from going stale. Unless you will be using up an opened box of matzoh within three or four days (fewer in very humid areas), it’s a good idea to store the matzoh in an airtight plastic container or resealable plastic bag instead of the cardboard box it comes in. Don’t leave a box of matzoh meal in the pantry, its perforation seal pushed open and left yawning. Keep it tightly closed in an airtight glass jar or plastic container, or purchase matzoh meal in the recently available special cylinders with a resealable plastic top. Store in the refrigerator, especially if it is not used on a regular basis. And if you trot out that same box of meal for two or three short appearances a year, consider keeping it in the freezer.

Let your nose be your guide in determining freshness: like crackers, matzoh and matzoh meal should smell fresh and wheaty. Discard any that smell musty or stale. If matzohs have become soggy, you can recrisp them in the oven at 350°F for a few minutes. And read the Passover section about toasting matzoh for superb, fresh-from-the-oven flavor.

WONTON WRAPPERS

When I first began buying wonton wrappers in New York City’s Chinatown, I noticed a kosher seal on several brands. Apparently, using paper-thin wonton wrappers to make kreplach was not a novel idea.

But it is a delicious one, an elegant, easy, inexpensive timesaver. And even if I had time enough to make my own dough, I doubt it would turn out as delicate and thin as these egg-enriched little pasta squares.

If you can’t find wonton wrappers in Asian stores, look for them in health-food and specialty stores and most supermarkets (often they are kept in the refrigerated section of the produce department). The non-Asian ones may be somewhat thicker and less delicate, but they too will work well as kreplach wrappers.

TO PREPARE WONTON KREPLACH: Thaw wonton wrappers, if frozen, and bring to room temperature. These fragile little squares dry out easily, so keep them covered with plastic wrap or a slightly dampened kitchen towel. Remove wrappers as needed, leaving the rest covered to prevent cracking and drying.

Prepare an egg wash: in a small bowl, beat an egg with 1 teaspoon water. (You can use plain water to seal the kreplach, but the egg creates a more permanent “glue.”)

Put a wrapper on a lightly floured surface. Mound 1 heaping teaspoon of filling in the center of the wrapper. Dip your finger in the egg wash and “paint” the edges all around the filling. Or use a small pastry brush to paint. Fold the krepl (singular of kreplach) into a triangle by pulling one corner of the square over to the opposite corner. Carefully press down all around the filling to force out all the air and seal the edges firmly. It’s important to push out the air, otherwise the krepl may fill up with water as it is being poached. Trim away any excess dough around the filling with a sharp knife, or curl the two opposite corners together, dab with egg wash, and pinch tightly closed.

You can also make larger kreplach. Place 1 heaping tablespoon of filling in the center of a wrapper, paint the edges with egg wash, and cover with a second wrapper. Press out air, seal, and trim. Or trim off the excess dough using cookie cutters in fanciful shapes—great fun to do with children.

Place filled kreplach on a dry kitchen towel and cover with plastic wrap. Let them rest for 15 to 20 minutes so the egg wash seal can dry (turn them occasionally).

To poach, bring a large, wide pot of salted water to a gentle boil. Add the kreplach, in batches as necessary, and cook for 3 to 7 minutes, depending on the brand of wrapper you are using, until they float to the surface and are tender. Never let the kreplach boil rapidly: they will fill with water or explode, or both! And don’t try to save time by cooking the kreplach in broth—inevitably one will rupture and ruin your broth.

Use a skimmer to transfer the kreplach as they are done to a dry kitchen towel or paper towels to drain briefly. They are too fragile to be dumped into a colander. If you aren’t serving them soon, moisten them with a little broth, sauce, butter, or oil, and keep them warm until needed.

After they are poached, kreplach can be served in soup, or sautéed or baked with butter or oil. For an unusual preparation, make them pot sticker–style.

I find it easier to stuff kreplach with a filling that has been chilled: it is firmer and less runny. Use the fillings in this book to start, then improvise some of your own. Try the cheese blintz filling and its savory variation—or any of the fruit blintz fillings. Ground liver works well as does mashed chickpeas or pumpkin sauced with yogurt cream, crushed garlic, mint, and olive oil. And don’t forget your refrigerator full of leftovers.

STORING THE WRAPPERS: Fresh wonton wrappers tend to dry out quickly after only a few days in the refrigerator, so make sure they are very well sealed. Wonton wrappers can be frozen in airtight packages for two to three months (after that, they tend to dry out); don’t refreeze them.

CHICKEN SOUP WITH ASPARAGUS AND SHIITAKES, SERVED WITH ROASTED FENNEL MATZOH BALLS

YIELD: ABOUT 8 SERVINGS

Set in spring, when the earth is renewing and reassembling herself, Passover is celebrated as a sort of second New Year, reflecting the rebirth of the Jews as a free people after the Exodus from Egypt. Children start the season with new clothes, and houses are thoroughly cleaned and freshened up to make way for the new foods and special sets of dishes reserved just for Passover use.

And just as they delay until Rosh Hashanah their first tastes of the sweet new autumn fruits, so many Jews wait until Passover to savor the tender new vegetables of spring. In this delicious soup, woodsy shiitake mushrooms and early asparagus combine with delicate roasted fennel–flavored matzoh balls in a free-wheeling ode to spring.

FOR THE ROASTED FENNEL MATZOH BALLS

2 small to medium fennel bulbs (about 1 pound, weighed with 2 inches of top stalks)

2 tablespoons olive oil

1⁄2 cup chicken broth, preferably homemade or good-quality, low-sodium purchased

1 tablespoon coarsely chopped garlic

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

3⁄4 teaspoon chopped fresh thyme

1⁄4 teaspoon fennel seeds, ground in a spice grinder or with a mortar and pestle (optional)

2 large eggs

About 1⁄2 cup plus 2 tablespoons matzoh meal

FOR THE SOUP

7 cups homemade chicken broth (see Classic Chicken Soup or Almost Homemade Soup)

1⁄4 pound fresh shiitake mushrooms, stems removed and reserved for another use or discarded, caps wiped clean with a damp paper towel and thinly sliced

12 to 15 thin asparagus spears, trimmed and cut into 1-inch pieces

PREPARE the matzoh balls: preheat the oven to 400°F. Cut off the fennel stalks and reserve for another use (excellent for fish broths and stews). If there are some attractive feathery fronds, set aside about 2 tablespoons of them to garnish the soup. Quarter the bulbs and trim away the stems, the bottom hard core, and any tough parts. Choose a shallow baking pan just large enough to fit the fennel in one layer and put in 1 tablespoon of the oil. Add the fennel and toss until well coated. Roast the fennel until pale gold, about 20 minutes, then turn the fennel over and roast for 10 minutes longer. Stir in the broth, garlic, salt and pepper to taste, and 1⁄2 teaspoon of the thyme. Cover the pan with foil and cook for 35 to 45 minutes longer, or until the fennel is very soft. Remove the foil, stir, and roast for a few more minutes to evaporate most of the liquid. Transfer the fennel and garlic to a food processor and chop coarsely. Add the remaining 1⁄4 teaspoon of thyme, salt (it will need about 1 teaspoon), pepper to taste, and the fennel seeds, if using. With the machine on, add the remaining 1 tablespoon oil through the feed tube.

SCRAPE the mixture into a large bowl. You need 1 cup of puree, so nosh on any extra. Whisk in the eggs, one at a time. Add the matzoh meal and stir well. If you can form a lump into a very soft walnut-size ball (the batter will become firmer when you chill it), don’t add any more matzoh meal. If necessary, add just enough matzoh meal to enable you to do so. Refrigerate for at least 2 or up to 4 hours so the matzoh meal can drink in the liquid and seasoning.

WHEN ready to cook, bring 4 quarts water and 1 tablespoon of salt to a rapid boil in a large, wide, lidded pot. Dipping your hands into cold water, if needed, roll the batter into walnut-size balls. When all the balls are rolled and the water is boiling furiously, turn the heat down to a gentle boil. Carefully slide in the balls one at a time and cover the pot tightly.

TURN the heat down to a simmer, and cook over low heat for 30 minutes, without removing the cover. (They will cook by direct heat as well as by steam, which makes them puff and swell, and lifting the lid will allow some of that steam to escape.) Take out a dumpling and cut it in half. It should be light, fluffy and completely cooked through. If it isn’t, continue cooking a few more minutes. Remove the balls gently with a skimmer or large slotted spoon—they are too fragile to pour into a colander.

WHEN the matzoh balls are almost ready, start the soup: bring the broth to a simmer in a large pot. Add the matzoh balls, the mushrooms, and asparagus and simmer for about 5 minutes, until the vegetables are tender.

USING a slotted spoon, transfer the matzoh balls to shallow soup bowls and ladle the hot soup and the vegetables over them. Garnish with the reserved chopped fennel fronds.

COOK’S NOTE: You can cook the matzoh balls up to 2 to 3 hours in advance. Drain them and cover with some broth to keep them moist before setting them aside until you are ready to reheat them.

Experiment with making matzoh balls with a puree of other vegetables, like beets, carrots, leeks, mushrooms, or shallots. Roasted vegetables absorb less moisture than boiled or steamed ones (and, therefore, require less matzoh meal, making them lighter). They are also more flavorful.

MISHMASH KREPLACH (BEEF, POTATO, AND FRIED ONION KREPLACH)

YIELD: ABOUT 50 KREPLACH

They started out in three separate piles, our weekday trinity: brisket, skirt steak, or sometimes a thick meat patty (it only became a hamburger when surrounded by a roll); one hill of fluffy mashed potatoes and another of shimmering, bronzed onions. Under my grandmother’s tutelage, I learned the correct way to combine them in a sublime mishmash.

First, of course, stir the onions into the potatoes, adding little spoons of gravy or meat juices to make the mixing easier. Impale the meat on your fork and bury it deep in the potato pile. Withdraw and lick it like a lollipop, flavored if necessary with copious quantities of additional gravy and judicious sprinkles of pepper—there was probably too much salt to begin with.

Years later I found out that we were not the only family that engaged in mishmashing this classic trio. In these kreplach, a paean to the combination, I fashion the same ingredients into a simple but perfect pasta package. Including mashed potatoes in a filling for pasta may seem an overload of starch. But as in my grandmother’s original mishmash, smooth, rich potatoes lend a creamy sumptuousness to the golden onions and savory shards of beef, especially when encased in thin, silky kreplach like these made from wonton wrappers.

Float the kreplach in homemade beef or chicken broth. They also make an outstanding appetizer or side dish, sauced with beef gravy or topped with sautéed mushrooms. Or pat the cooked kreplach dry, then panfry them lightly in oil with sizzled onions.

2^1⁄2 cups chopped onion

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 teaspoon minced fresh garlic

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 cup mashed potatoes (leftover is fine)

1^1⁄2 cups shredded cooked beef (leftover flanken, pot roast, or brisket)

1 large egg yolk

About 50 wonton wrappers (allow a few extra in case of tearing)

Egg wash (1 or 2 large eggs, as needed, each beaten with 1 teaspoon water)

Accompaniments: rich homemade chicken or beef broth, leftover brisket or other beef gravy, fried onions, or fried mushrooms (see Cook’s Note)

IN a large skillet, sauté the onions in the oil over medium-high heat, lifting and tossing them frequently, until soft and golden, about 15 minutes. Add the garlic and continue sautéing until the mixture is tinged a rich caramel color in spots. (Good fried onions should be an amalgam of several degrees of doneness: from nearly clear to butter yellow to speckles of deep bronze.) Salt and pepper to taste and scrape into a large bowl. Add the mashed potatoes and the meat and combine well. Season generously to taste and stir in the egg yolk. Cover and refrigerate until cold, about 1 hour.

FILL and trim the kreplach using about 1 heaping teaspoon of filling per krepl, folding it into a tight triangle, and sealing with the egg wash.

POACH the kreplach. In a large, wide pot, bring at least 5 quarts of lightly salted water to a boil. Slip in the kreplach, one by one, being careful not to overcrowd the pot (if necessary, cook them in batches, or use two pots). Lower the temperature slightly (the kreplach might explode if the water is boiling furiously) and poach until tender, 3 to 6 minutes (exact time will depend on the brand of wonton wrapper used). Lift the kreplach out, a few at a time, with a large skimmer, gently shaking the skimmer so the water drains back into the pot (the kreplach are too fragile to pour into a colander).

SERVE the poached kreplach in broth, sauced with leftover brisket or pot roast gravy, or topped with fried onions or sautéed mushrooms.

COOK’S NOTE: To prepare a cloak of fried mushrooms, sauté 1 cup chopped onion and 2 teaspoons minced fresh garlic in 2 tablespoons oil over moderately high heat, stirring, until deep gold, 5 to 7 minutes; add 3 cups thinly sliced mushrooms (fresh shiitakes would be delicious, but cremini or regular button mushrooms will do very well), and cook over high heat until the mushrooms smell fragrant and release their juices; add 1 tablespoon soy sauce and 2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice, and cook for another 2 minutes; season to taste with salt and pepper; garnish, if desired, with chopped parsley, scallions, chives, or dill.

CHICKPEAS WITH GARLIC AND BARBEQUE SPICES

YIELD: ABOUT 3 CUPS

A herring tidbit in cream sauce, a stuffed grape leaf, a piece of sweet egg kichel—Jewish cuisine is rich in tantalizing noshes. Perhaps this is because a little snack calls for just a little brocha (blessing), not the full ritual benediction required before and after eating a complete meal.

Jews have enjoyed chickpeas since biblical times. Known as arbas or nahit to Ashkenazi Jews and garvansos to Sephardim, they are a popular snack food, eaten like popcorn, especially on Purim when they are served to mimic Queen Esther, who ate legumes and grains instead of the king’s nonkosher food.

In our house, we usually ate them boiled plain, with heaps of coarsely ground black pepper. In this recipe, I sprinkle them with a seasoning similar to a more recently beloved nosh—barbequed potato chips.

And the spiciness of this little cocktail nibble encourages one to fulfill that pleasant Purim injunction: “Drink until you can no longer differentiate between the names Mordecai and Haman.”

1 cup dried chickpeas (about 1⁄2 pound; see Cook’s Note)

1^1⁄2 teaspoons olive or canola oil

1 teaspoon garlic powder

1 teaspoon paprika, preferably smoked

1 teaspoon ground cumin, preferably freshly toasted and ground

1⁄2 teaspoon dry mustard

1⁄2 teaspoon cayenne, or to taste

1⁄2 teaspoon brown sugar

1⁄8 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

PICK over the chickpeas and rinse them well in several changes of cold water. Soak them overnight in enough cold water to cover by 2 inches. Or use the quick soak method: put them in a large saucepan and add about 5 cups cold water; bring the water to a boil and simmer for 2 minutes; remove the pan from heat and let the chickpeas stand, covered, for 1 hour. Drain the chickpeas.

IN a large saucepan, bring the chickpeas to a boil with enough fresh cold water to cover by 2 inches. Lower the heat, cover, and simmer until very tender, 1 to 2 hours, depending on the age of the peas. They should be rather soft, not at all al dente, but don’t overcook to mushiness. (You’ll be cooking them further with the spices, and you should be able to pick them up and munch them like popcorn, dissolving in your mouth, not in your hands.) Drain well, place in a large, heavy nonstick skillet, and shake over low heat until very dry. Add the oil and toss until the chickpeas are evenly coated.

IN a small bowl, stir together the garlic, paprika, cumin, mustard, cayenne, brown sugar, cinnamon, and a generous amount of salt and pepper. Sprinkle the spice mixture over the chickpeas and cook, stirring, for about 2 minutes, to marry the flavors. Taste and adjust the seasonings as needed. These are best served warm.

COOK’S NOTE: If you must, substitute about 2^1⁄2 cups canned chickpeas (rinsed and drained) for the dried ones. Dry and season them in the skillet, as instructed above. But canned chickpeas—excellent in hummus and so many other dishes—tend to be rather mushy and bland (too much flavor leaches into the canning liquid) for this recipe.

BEEF STOCK

YIELD: 2^1⁄2 TO 3 QUARTS

By setting aside a cup or two of clear chicken soup for the freezer every time I make it, I usually have enough available for most cooking needs. And when I don’t, I doctor purchased broth for an excellent Almost Homemade. Using good homemade chicken broth does beef recipes no injustice, in most cases. But there are times when only a full-bodied beef stock will do—for simmering Flanken, for instance.

This dish call for deep, rich flavors, so first I caramelize the meat, bones, and aromatics. Because I have a very wide, heavy pot (an 8-quart Dutch oven), I can do everything—browning and simmering—in one pot, on top of the stove. A regular stockpot is neither wide nor heavy enough to brown the ingredients well. If you don’t have a large enough saucepan or Dutch oven, use a 5- to 6-quart pot for browning, then transfer everything to a stockpot. Either way is simpler and less messy than caramelizing the ingredients by oven-roasting them.

About the bones: while marrow bones are often suggested, I find they can give the stock a slightly greasy quality that can be quite unpleasant in many dishes. Many butchers will not charge for soup bones—knuckle, shank, shoulder, and neck are good choices—if you request them when placing a large meat order. If you buy meat infrequently, request bones whenever you do and store them in the freezer until you are ready to prepare the stock.

1 to 2 tablespoons mild olive or vegetable oil

3 pounds lean stewing beef, such as chuck or neck meat, trimmed and cut into 3-inch pieces

2 pounds knuckle, shank, shoulder, or neck bones (if bones are very meaty, you can reduce the amount of beef to 2 pounds), trimmed of as much fat as possible

1⁄2 pound onions, cut into coarse chunks (2 cups)

1⁄2 pound carrots, scraped and cut into coarse chunks (1^1⁄2 cups)

1 parsnip, peeled and cut into coarse chunks

3 large garlic cloves, peeled

1⁄2 cup dry red or white wine

4 quarts cold water (quality is important here, so if you use bottled water for coffee or tea, use it here)

20 peppercorns, crushed

1 teaspoon salt

1 small rutabaga or white turnip, peeled and cut into chunks

3 celery stalks, including leaves if available, coarsely chopped

1 cup loosely packed fresh flat-leaf parsley sprigs

IN an 8- to 10-quart Dutch oven or heavy saucepan with a lid, heat 1 tablespoon oil over moderately high heat. Working in batches so you don’t crowd the pan, lightly brown the meat (don’t let it get too crusty), and transfer it to a platter. In the same pan, brown the bones on all sides, then transfer them to the platter. Add another tablespoon of oil, if necessary, and the onions, carrots, parsnip, and garlic. Brown them in the dark meat residue, stirring and scraping them with a wooden spoon as they begin to bronze around the edges, about 10 minutes. Add the wine and stir constantly to scrape up the browned bits. Add 1 quart of the water and boil for 3 minutes, stirring, to pick up any remaining meat and vegetable bits. (If using a smaller pan, transfer everything now to a stockpot.)

ADD the meat, bones, remaining 3 quarts water, peppercorns, and salt. Turn the heat to medium and bring to a slow bubble, skimming any froth and scum that rise to the surface. When the soup begins to “smile” (tiny bubbles break along the edge of the pot), turn the heat down to very low. Let the soup simmer for about 30 minutes, skimming frequently. Add the rutabaga or turnip, celery, and parsley, and raise the heat slightly to bring it back to a simmer. Let it bubble for a few minutes, then turn the heat down as low as possible, put the lid on, leaving it slightly askew, and continue skimming occasionally. Simmer the soup for at least 2 or 2^1⁄2 hours longer—3 to 5 is even better. Do not let the soup boil. If necessary, use a flame tamer or blech, or put it on top of two burner grates stacked together. (Make sure the soup is bubbling, though ever so gently. If there is no movement at all on the surface, the soup will spoil.) Add more salt if you want, but remember this is a stock: the other dishes in which you will use it may be salty enough, and besides, the stock’s flavors will become more concentrated when you boil it down.

LET the soup cool to room temperature in the pot, uncovered. (Hot soup in a covered pot may turn sour.)

STRAIN the cooled soup through a wire-mesh sieve pressing down on all the meat, bones, and vegetables to extract as much of their flavorful juices as you can, then discard the solids. (If desired, you can save the meat and the carrots and dice them finely to serve in the stock. However, most of the flavor will have been extracted from them already.)

REFRIGERATE the soup, covered, overnight, or until all the fat has congealed on top. Carefully scrape off the fat and discard it. If the soup still seems fatty, line a wire-mesh sieve with a layer of paper towels and pour the soup through into a clean bowl or pot. (If the soup has jelled from chilling, bring it to room temperature first.) If the paper towels become thickly coated with fat, change them once or twice during the process.

STORE the stock in the refrigerator up to 1 week or freeze for up to 3 months.

VEGETABLE STOCK

YIELD: ABOUT 6 CUPS

Because vegetable stock is pareve or neutral (that is, it contains neither meat nor dairy), according to the dietary laws, it may be eaten with either. But meat dishes generally rely on meat stocks; in Jewish cooking, it is foods glossed with butter or topped with cream that give vegetable stock its reason for being. Only vegetable stock can jazz up a plain pilaf destined to partner a butter-gilded fish. It is the sole stock base for a soup that will be enriched with sour cream or yogurt. And kasha, often insipid when prepared with plain water, turns inspired with a stock that permits generous lacings of genuine sweet butter instead of margarine.

You can purchase acceptable ready-made versions of chicken and beef stock that will do nicely in a pinch for sauces, stews, and so on, but good-quality vegetable stocks are harder to find. Fortunately, they are much quicker to make than the meat-based kind (in fact, lengthy cooking will ruin, not improve, a vegetable stock).

This is one of those recipes for which I am reluctant to provide exact ingredients and measures because it can be varied endlessly according to availability of produce and how the stock will ultimately be used. So think of this recipe as a guide.

Some of the optional ingredients here will give you bigger flavors. Use them when you desire a stronger, darker stock. Tomatoes make everything sing, but with a rather full-throated voice. Soy sauce and the liquid from soaking dried mushrooms can be insistent, too. You may want to start with smaller quantities of these ingredients, and keep tasting as you go along, adding more as necessary. If you have the corncobs left over after scraping the kernels for another use, they will provide an earthy sweetness.

And by all means, add other vegetables: anything in the onion family, a little sweet red pepper, more fresh mushrooms (parings are fine), fennel, pea pods, a small potato, celery root, fresh herbs. Aim for balance and complexity—no one ingredient should overwhelm the others. And avoid strong or bitter-tasting vegetables, like broccoli, members of the cabbage family, eggplant, and pungent greens.

1 tomato (optional)

2 tablespoons olive oil or unsalted butter or 1 tablespoon of each

2 large onions, 1 coarsely chopped, 1 thinly sliced

2 medium carrots, scraped and diced

2 celery stalks, coarsely chopped

1 small parsnip, peeled and coarsely chopped

1 small turnip, scraped or if waxed or thick-skinned, peeled, coarsely chopped

1⁄2 pound fresh cultivated regular or shiitake mushrooms, wiped clean (pieces and stems are fine)

6 to 8 garlic cloves, peeled and smashed

About 1 teaspoon soy sauce (optional)

4 to 6 sprigs fresh thyme or 1⁄4 teaspoon dried leaves

5 peppercorns, crushed

1 teaspoon salt

10 fresh flat-leaf parsley sprigs

1 Turkish bay leaf

1⁄4 cup celery leaves or 1 teaspoon celery seed, crushed lightly

OPTIONAL ADDITIONS

Up to 1 cup zucchini or summer squash chunks, strips of mild lettuce or green Swiss chard leaves, or coarsely chopped chard stalks

2 corncobs

Up to 1⁄4 ounce dried mushrooms, soaked in 2 cups hot water for 30 minutes, or until soft, then rinsed for grit and finely chopped

Some liquid from soaking the dried mushrooms (or leftover mushroom liquid from another recipe), strained through a sieve lined with a paper towel or a coffee filter to remove any remaining grit

2 quarts cold water (quality is important here, so if you use bottled water for coffee or tea, use it here)

IF you are using the tomato, char it to give it some character and to remove the peel easily: rinse and pat it dry. Spear it through the stem end with a long-handled fork and lightly blacken the skin on all sides over a gas burner, as you would roast a pepper. Let it cool until you can handle it, then pull off the peel with your fingers. Cut the tomato in half, scoop out and discard the seeds and core. Chop the pulp coarsely and set it aside.

IN a 6-quart Dutch oven or very wide heavy saucepan, heat the oil and/or butter over moderately high heat until sizzling. Add all of the onions and sauté for about 15 minutes, frequently lifting and scraping the pieces from the bottom of the pan as the onions caramelize to a deep golden bronze.

ADD the carrots, celery, parsnip, and turnip, and cook until the edges of the vegetables are tinged with brown. Add the fresh mushrooms and garlic, and cook until the mushrooms give up their liquid. Sprinkle with the soy sauce, if using, and the thyme, peppercorns, and salt. Add the tomato, if using, and sauté for 5 minutes. Add the parsley, bay leaf, celery leaves or seeds, the zucchini, squash, and/or chard, if using, and sauté for 1 to 2 minutes. Add the corncobs, soaked dried mushrooms, and/or the mushroom soaking liquid, if using. Add the water. Bring to a gentle boil, so the bubbles just begin to break along the edges, then reduce to a simmer. Cook for 45 to 60 minutes, partially covered, until the vegetables are very soft.

STRAIN immediately through a wire-mesh sieve or a colander fitted with paper towels, pressing hard against the solids with the back of a wooden spoon to extract all of the flavorful liquids. Taste and adjust the seasonings. If the stock lacks character, concentrate the flavors by reducing the liquid slightly. (Don’t reduce this stock too much—it will turn bitter.)

LET cool completely, uncovered, then cover and refrigerate. The stock will keep up to 5 days refrigerated, or up to 3 months frozen.

ROASTED PEPPERS

To roast peppers, spear them with a long-handled fork, and roast like marshmallows over an open flame (a gas burner or outdoor fire). Or place the peppers on a roasting rack set directly over the flame. Keep turning the peppers until the skins are lightly charred on all sides. You can also roast them under the broiler. Place the peppers on a foil-lined rack under a preheated broiler, as close as possible to the heat source. Turn the peppers as the skins blister and blacken.

Put charred peppers in a paper bag and twist the bag closed, or put them in a covered bowl. Let them steam until cool enough to handle—this will make them easier to peel. Rub the skins off with your fingers (if preparing chiles, make sure you are wearing rubber gloves). Don’t worry if you don’t remove every piece of charred skin—a few bits here and there will add smoky flavor. Although this is messy and the peel will stick to your fingers, I don’t recommend peeling the peppers under water, as some suggest, because it washes away the flavorful oils, making the peppers soggy and flat-tasting. Instead, dip your hands into a bowl of water every so often or wipe them on a paper towel to clean them. Pull out and discard the stem, seeds, and ribs. The peppers are ready to be used in a recipe.

WANT MORE DELICIOUS RECIPES FROM JAYNE COHEN?

CHECK OUT JEWISH HOLIDAY COOKING!

Jewish Holiday Cooking: In Jewish Holiday Cooking, Jayne Cohen shares a wide-ranging collection of traditional Jewish recipes, as well as inventive new creations and contemporary variations on the classic dishes. This definitive guide to Jewish holiday cooking is perfect for home cooks who need a how-to guide for celebrating the Jewish holidays, or who are looking for creative new ways to make the Jewish traditions in their lives more meaningful. Jewish Holiday Cooking includes recipes and menus for each of the eight major holidays—Shabbat, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot, Hanukkah, Purim, Passover, and Shavuot—along with captivating reminiscences and tales from Jewish lore as well as nostalgic black and white photography from Cohen’s own family history.

About the Author:  Jayne Cohen is the author of one previous book on Jewish cooking and celebrations—The Gefilte Variations—and is the co-author of The Ultimate Bar/Bat Mitzvah Celebration Book.  She writes frequently about food for publications such as Bon Appétit, Gourmet, Food and Wine, the New York Times, the Los Angeles Times, the Boston Globe, and Newsday. Cohen lives in Greenwich Village with her husband, and their daughter Alexandra returns home to cook at every holiday. Visit her Web site at JewishHolidayCooking.com.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Table of Contents

Introduction

Shabbat Recipes

Basics

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Table of Contents

Introduction

Shabbat Recipes

Basics