Jewish

Editor's note: Susie Fishbein's signature Tricolor Matzo Ball Soup is a "fun, funky twist" on a very traditional dish. The combination of spinach, tomato, and turmeric matzo balls is unexpected and makes for a visually striking presentation. Meat or Parve
Gebrokts

Editor's note: This recipe is part of Susie Fishbein's Tricolor Matzo Ball soup .
Due to the high water content of fresh spinach, these matzo balls may be a little harder to roll than the other two flavors. If this occurs, add some extra matzo ball mix or matzo meal, 1 teaspoon at a time, until the batter can be rolled into balls. You want to use as little extra as possible so that the matzo balls remain light and fluffy. Meat or Parve
Gebrokts

Parve
Gebrokts

Editor's note: This recipe is part of Susie Fishbein's Tricolor Matzo Ball soup . What a thrill it was for me as these matzo balls and I proudly made our debut on the Today Show with Katie Couric! Meat or Parve
Gebrokts

Editor's note: This recipe is part of Susie Fishbein's Tricolor Matzo Ball soup . Meat or Parve
Gebrokts

The crispy, cookie-like crust is incredible with the soft soufflé filling.

The bris (circumcision) of my twins, Jake and Joey, was rather hectic. After Jake's turn, I was instructed by the mohel to take him upstairs and comfort him. That meant that I completely missed Joey's turn. I was starving and remembered that my friend Trudy Jacobson had brought me her challah. It has a unique sweetness from the honey, a very soft texture from the margarine, and I think the saffron performs some other magic to create a very tasty challah. The rising times are longer that my classic challah, but worth the time.

Every Passover, my maternal grandfather, Irving, made beet horseradish from scratch. He was a gardener with a true green thumb when it came to tomatoes, but I can't remember if he grew his own horseradish. What I do remember is how teary-eyed everyone got when he served my grandmother's homemade gefilte fish with his beet horseradish on the side. Through the sniffles, we all expressed delight and assured him that this batch was the hottest and best yet. Horseradish is one of those flavors I have always loved. For all you other horseradish lovers out there, here's a fabulous dip. Use extra-hot prepared horseradish to guarantee those sniffles and teary eyes.

THIS SABBATH RICE DISH, typical of Provence, reveals the history both of pilau or pilaf, as it is called in French, and of Persian Jews who settled in the area near the Camargue, the rice-growing area of southwestern Provence located on the triangle of land between the two major tributaries of the Rhône River. Jews, first by barge and later by boat, used the river to bring goods here from the Mediterranean. The word and the dish pilau come from Persia, taking various forms as the dish traveled around the world. In India, it became pulao; in modern-day Iran, it is called polo; and in Provence, pelau or pilaf. Rice, and therefore pilaf, traveled with the Jews to Provence, where many Persian Jewish merchants and scholars settled and lived until the end of the fourteenth century or even later. These Jews, who traded rice, cooked it for the Sabbath with fragrant spices like nutmeg, garlic, cumin, cinnamon, and saffron. Some scholars believe that Jews brought saffron to Europe from Asia Minor for their Sabbath rice. The late Karen Hess, author of The Carolina Rice Kitchen, repeatedly told me that Jews first brought rice to the Camargue. In their Inventory of the Culinary Patrimony of France, Philip and Mary Hyman relate that emigrants from the Piedmont paid a dîme of rice to noblemen in the year 1497. And although pilau and riz au safran are no longer particularly Jewish dishes in Provence, they are clearly rooted in the Sabbath tradition. This simple recipe is typically eaten on Rosh Hashanah, alongside a symbolic whole roasted fish with a Sephardic sweet-and-sour greengage-plum sauce.

MOROCCAN COOKS USUALLY MAKE this tasty salad with Swiss chard, but I have seen it also with beet leaves. Eaten all year round, it is prepared by Moroccans on Rosh Hashanah for their Sephardic Seder, when they say a series of blessings over squash, leeks, dates, pomegranates, black-eyed peas, apples, the head of a fish or a lamb, and Swiss chard and beet greens.

Brandy, cinnamon, and lemon zest combine to give this tart unbelievable aroma and wonderful flavor.

When I was a student in France, Rose Minkel was a fixture at Friday night dinners at my friend Nanou’s home. Called Mémé, an endearing term for “Grandmother,” she brought with her the recipes from her family’s native Metz, a city in the province of Lorraine with a long Jewish presence. Though the Jews had been in Metz for many generations (some say the first Jews settled there in 221 C.E.), up until the eighteenth century they lived a very different life from non-Jews in the town. They paid extra taxes on meat, wines and liqueurs, and other provisions. It was easy to spot a Jew on the street, because the men wore yellow hats to distinguish them from the black-hat-wearing gentiles. But over time they did assimilate, and already at the beginning of the eighteenth century, the Jews of Metz began to speak French instead of Yiddish. One Rosh Hashanah recipe that I remember most fondly was this simple roast chicken with peeled apple quarters, cinnamon, sugar, and wine.

Potato latkes are really just potato kugel in pancake form.

Without the grated onion, matzo meal latkes are a little on the bland side. However, you can always take a different, more Sephardic, approach: omit the onion; sprinkle the cooked latkes with a mixture of confectioners' sugar, cinnamon, and finely chopped nuts; and serve them with honey.

For a nutty flavor, toast the masa in a small skillet until golden.

Rajas (strips) of crisp corn tortillas and sweet mini bell peppers make a colorful garnish.

Noodle kugels, or baked puddings, abound in Ashkenazic Jewish cookery, and this particular version makes an outstanding dessert or brunch dish. You'll find that the mild sweetness of coarsely grated Gala apples perks up the hearty richness.

Have you ever visited the marketplace of Jerusalem and noticed small wooden imprinted molds with handles? To be sure, the merchant is hard put to explain their significance. They are ma'amoul molds. Ma'amoul means "filled" in Arabic, and these molds make filled cookies eaten by Jews and Arabs throughout the Middle East, especially in Syria, Lebanon, and Egypt. A piece of short-pastry dough the size of a walnut is pressed into the crevices of the ma'amoul mold. A tablespoon of date or nut filling is inserted, and you close the pastry with your fingers. Holding the handle of the wooden mold, you slam it on the table, letting the enclosed dough fall out. On the top of the cookie is a lovely design. After baking and rolling in confectioners' sugar, the design stands out even more. Of course, the ma'amoul mold is not necessary to the preparation of these sweets, though it certainly adds to their beauty. The tines of a fork, tweezers with a serrated edge, or a tool of your own devising will do quite well. The following ma'amoul recipe came from Aleppo to the Syrian Jewish community on Ocean Parkway, Brooklyn. These cookies are served at Purim. A similar cookie, called karabij here (nataife in Syria), topped with marshmallow fluff, is also served at Purim. Arasibajweh—rolled cookies from the same dough and stuffed with dates—are served at the New Year or Hanukkah.