Jewish

Sometimes in the ninth century, or perhaps earlier, Baltic fishermen figured out that curing herring in salt would preserve it. Caught and immediately salted to prevent spoilage, the fish was then brought back to French ports to be sold, often by Jewish purveyors who transported it up the Rhône. Salting fish was so important in the medieval period that salt-fish mongers, like fresh-fish mongers, had their own stores for salted, dried, and brined fish such as herring and cod. Because the fish had not in fact been cooked, rabbis considered salted fish to be kosher even if it had been salted by gentiles. For centuries Jews in northern France, who couldn’t eat pork, ate herring as their daily protein. It was prepared in a variety of ways, most often first soaked in milk to remove the excess saltiness, then dressed with vinegar and oil, and served with lots of sliced raw onion and hot boiled potatoes. Jews in France have put a French touch on their herring dishes, serving them as an appetizer rather than as a main course. They usually prepare the herring with either a horseradish sauce with apples, hard-boiled eggs, and beets, or a mustard-dill sauce with sugar, cream, and vinegar. To break the fast of Yom Kippur, Alsatian Jews use a sweet-and-sour cream sauce with their herring.

Hélène Sancy’s Haroset recipe goes back to her family’s residence in Portugal before the Inquisition. It is probably one of the oldest existing haroset recipes in France today, if not the oldest. Her husband’s job is to grind the fruits and nuts with the brass mortar and pestle, which they inherited, handed down through the generations. Although the Sancys do not roll their haroset into balls as is called for in other old recipes from Spain and Portugal (recipe follows), they have another fascinating Passover custom. First they say a blessing over the bitter herbs (maror)—in their case, romaine lettuce—as a reminder of slavery in Egypt. Then they wrap the romaine around parsley that has been dipped in salt water, a little chopped celery, and about a teaspoon of haroset. The Ashkenazi way, in contrast, is to sandwich bitter herbs and haroset between two pieces of matzo. Curiously, the Sancys’ recipe for haroset, in this land of vineyards in the southwest of France, includes no raisins.

"There is no such thing as Jewish Alsatian cooking. It is Alsatian cooking,” Chef Gilbert Brenner told me over lunch at his restaurant, Wistub Brenner, with a view over the Lauch River in Colmar, a charming city in southern Alsace that has had a Jewish presence since at least the eleventh century. “Jewish cooks adapted the dietary laws to what was available here,” Monsieur Brenner told me. “France didn’t create dishes. Families created the dishes. It is the cooking of their grandparents and reatgrandparents.” Looking over the menu at Brenner’s popular restaurant, I was taken by this extraordinary leek terrine, which I later learned was put on the menu for Gilbert’s Jewish customers and friends who keep kosher or are vegetarians. During the short asparagus season in the spring, Gilbert substitutes asparagus for the leeks. The recipe is a modern version of very old savory bread puddings, like schaleths (see page 251).

Once, while visiting Le Monde des Épices (see page 26), I asked the owner which Jewish cookbook in his large selection he especially liked. His favorite one at the time was 150 Recettes et Mille et Un Souvenirs d’une Juive d’Algérie (150 Recipes and 1,001 Memories of an Algerian Jewish Woman) by Léone Jaffin, one of the steady stream of North African Jewish cookbooks since the 1970s. This book includes such unusual recipes as these Swiss-chard bestels, traditionally eaten on Rosh Hashanah. North African Jews frequently use the bright-green leaves of beets or Swiss chard, called blette. A prayer is recited over the vegetable, called salek in Hebrew, meaning to remove or throw out, with the hope that in the coming year enemies will be removed from the community’s midst. I have added curry powder, pine nuts, and currants to this tasty turnover, which I sometimes serve with salad as a first course.

The French call this appetizer caviar d’aubergine because the feel of the eggplant seeds on your tongue is similar in texture to that of fish eggs. A delicious and easy-to-prepare dish, it has been in the French Jewish repertoire since at least the turn of the last century, when Romanian immigrants introduced the French to their ways of grilling the eggplant with its dark skin intact, a technique learned in the Middle East via the Caucasus. At about the same time, Russian and Romanian immigrants also brought this so-called poor man’s caviar with them to France. Whereas earlier generations used a hand chopper to make this dish, often blending in either lemon juice and olive oil or tomatoes and green peppers, today most cooks pulse it in a food processor. Although it is easier to roast the eggplants in the oven, oven- roasting will not give you the smoky flavor that comes from grilling over an open flame. This is a recipe to play with. Add diced onion, cilantro, or paprika, if you wish, or a few tablespoons of grapefruit juice or even mayonnaise. I have tasted all kinds of eggplant caviar. The last was at a very upscale French Bat Mitzvah, where the eggplant, laced with pesto, spiced with cumin, and decorated with tiny pansies, was served in an eggshell at the Kiddush after the service.

Brik are crisp, flaky appetizers found in Tunisian, Algerian, and Moroccan kitchens in France. The word refers to the dough, similar to the Moroccan warka, which one makes by tossing fistfuls of a wet, pastelike batter onto a hot grill. The batter miraculously spreads into a thin, pliable sheet, which may be used as an appetizer or dessert wrapper. You can find unbaked feuilles de brik (brik leaves) in Middle Eastern food stores or online (see A Source Guide, page 370). If you can’t, use wonton wrappers instead, or even phyllo dough, although your finished product will not have the same grainy texture as real brik. I often make these filled pastries as an appetizer at Hanukkah, instead of potato pancakes.

Although shami means “Syrian,” this was a specialty of the Jews of Egypt. It has a strong taste of lemon and garlic. It should be made with a good, well-flavored chicken stock (see page 143). After the recipe was given to me thirty-five years ago, I never heard of it again until recently, when I was giving a lecture about Jewish food and a man complained bitterly that I had left it out of my Jewish book. So I feel obliged to leave it in here.

SOY-FREE
Can be made NUT-FREE by omitting almonds Honey cake is a traditional dessert at Jewish celebrations, whether formal holidays or not, and is a fixture in the Ashkenazic Rosh Hashanah repertoire. In this recipe, dark agave nectar and maple syrup are combined to create a truly authentic flavor.

Chef Todd Aarons of Tierra Sur at Herzog Wine Cellars in Oxnard, California, shared this recipe as part of a Hanukkah cocktail party menu he created exclusively for Epicurious. These potato and Jerusalem artichoke latkes fry up quickly and are best served immediately, but if necessary, they can be held briefly in a warm oven. If you can't find Jerusalem artichokes—also known as sunchokes—Aarons recommends substituting parsnips or celery root.

The trick to making great challah is to add just enough eggs and oil to the dough so that it tastes rich and moist without becoming heavy and sticky. My friend Kathy Cohen gets it exactly right—her bread, stuffed with apples, raisins, and cinnamon, is the highlight of her annual Jewish New Year feast. For years, I'd count the days between slices, until I finally decided to ask for the recipe. Apple Notes: There aren't a lot of apples in this bread, so you want a variety that really stands out. Therefore, green firm-tart apples, such as Granny Smith and Rhode Island Greening, are the perfect choice here. Equipment: 2 large baking sheets, rimmed or unrimmed

Let’s clear something up right away: New York City isn’t the only place in the world to get decent, authentic bagels. The truth is, you can make bagels that are just as good at home, no matter where you live. They’re one of the simplest breads to make, requiring only flour, water, salt, yeast, and malt—and one secret ingredient: time (in the form of long, slow, cold fermentation). Any decent bagel shop knows this and uses an overnight method to stretch out the fermentation process, releasing all sorts of subtle flavors trapped in the flour. While bagel shops often use a type of high-protein flour not available to home cooks to achieve that distinctively chewy texture, regular, unbleached bread flour can also do the trick. The real key is to use a much lower percentage of water than is used for baguettes and other European hearth breads, producing a stiff dough that can stand up to a dunking in boiling water before going into the oven. More than any ingredient or other aspect of the method, this boiling step is what defines the uniqueness of the bagel. That said, bagels do usually feature one other distinctive ingredient: barley malt. While this may seem like an exotic, hard-to-find product, it’s actually commonly available at most supermarkets, usually labeled “barley malt syrup.” If you can’t find it, simply substitute an equal amount of honey. Your bagels might not have that malty flavor, but they’ll still be better than almost any bagel you can buy. One final note: If you like bagels but don’t want to set up the boiling operation for just six of them, feel free to double the size of the batch and bake enough to freeze for future use.

Matzoh can take many forms during the eight days of Passover: crushed into meal for baking or coating, topped whole with sauce and cheese for pizza, or fried with eggs for Matzoh brie. All can create Matzoh fatigue, but it can also be transformed into something a bit unexpected; that is, a riff on a holiday favorite: stuffing (minus the bread). Studded with meaty, browned mushrooms and translucent bits of celery and fennel, this is a delicious side dish perfect for soaking up gravy, or just as satisfying on its own. 

Latkes combine an ingredient and a technique that have gone together very well for centuries: potatoes and frying. This variation on a traditional crisp potato pancake is enhanced with the addition of carrots, which add a hit of earthy sweetness. For more seasonal recipes, download the free Gourmet Live app and stay tuned to the Gourmet Live blog for the latest updates.

A passover meal wouldn't be complete without haroseth, a traditional, chutney-like condiment.

The Deli's mashed potatoes aren't very complicated. Each pound of potatoes serves about 3 people.

Abe experimented until he came up with the lightest, fluffiest, most Jewish motherly matzo balls imaginable.

These succulent stews, roasts, and piquantly spiced meat dishes are among our heartiest entrées. Slowly baked in casseroles or simmered in large stockpots, they'll suffuse your kitchen with wonderful aromas. Most of these well-stewed entrées were developed by Eastern European Jews, because the tough and sinewy cheaper cuts of meat they could afford required hours of cooking to become tender. But that's not the whole story; other meat recipes hail from the abundant sheep- producing regions of the Middle East, where lamb is traditional spring fare and the featured entrée at Sephardic Seders. Some entrées in this chapter are suitable for an elegant dinner party, while others consist of everyday dishes like meat loaf, corned beef hash, and potted meatballs.

This salad is so simple and refreshing. The spiced matzo chips can be made a few days in advance and stored in a ziplock bag. I always make some extra to serve with soup or dips at another meal.
Parve
Gebrokts

This show-stopping presentation is for wowing guests when you only have a few minutes to prep and get something into the oven. Make sure you have butcher's twine on hand for tying the roast.
Meat
Non-gebrokts