Jewish

The gefilte fish in Joseph Wechsberg's mouthwatering description is unfortunately a dish of the past. Today, most people buy frozen or bottled brands. Good cooks, however, insist on preparing the homemade variety for Friday night and the holidays. My late mother-in-law, Peshka Gerson, made it twice a year, at Passover and Rosh Hashanah. She used her mother's recipe, handed down orally, from Zamosc, Poland. Her only concession to modernity was making individual patties rather than stuffing the filling back into the skin as described by Wechsberg. In addition, her filling was less elaborate. Years ago, when I asked Peshka for her recipe, two of her sisters-in-law were present. They all agreed that the rule of thumb is one pound of fat fish to one pound of thin. They also preferred the Polish custom of adding a little sugar. (Lithuanians say sugar is added to freshen already unfresh fish. Needless to say, Lithuanians do not add sugar to their gefilte fish.) Peshka, Chuma, and Rushka disagreed, however, on the seasonings. Chuma insisted on more salt, and Rushka explained that a little almond extract would do the trick. They both took me aside, promising to show me the "real" way to make gefilte fish. I have used their two suggestions as variations on Peshka's basic recipe. Make your fish Lithuanian or Polish, with sugar or without, but just remember—it's the carrots and horseradish that really count! I have been making this recipe since the mid-1970s. The only difference is that I cook the fish for twenty minutes. My mother-in-law cooked it for two hours!

The following carrot cake perfectly illustrates the evolution of baking techniques over the last hundred years. Prior to 1850 in Europe, the leavening of baked goods depended on yeast or sour milk and baking soda. Cream of tartar was another possibility but was imported from Italy. With the invention of baking powder or monocalcium phosphate in the United States in 1869, immigrant Eastern European women quickly learned new ways to make cakes. Prior to the advent of baking powder, this particular cake was probably denser than it is today. The eggs may have been separated and the whites beaten stiff, with cream of tartar added, to make the cake rise a bit higher. The cream cheese frosting is certainly a twentieth-century addition.

Sesame seed sauce is a popular condiment throughout the Middle East. It's especially prized in Israel, because Jewish dietary laws prohibit mixing meat and dairy products. Thus, the yogurt and cucumber or yogurt and mint sauce served with grilled lamb in Turkey and Lebanon would not be consumed by observant Jewish barbecue buffs in Israel. But tahini has the creaminess and tangy taste associated with yogurt. This recipe originally accompanied Turkey Shawarma .

This lighter take on the classic recipe will be gobbled up as quickly as the original—and is still best served with applesauce and sour cream.

Haroseth, a thick condiment of fruit, nuts, and wine, symbolizes the mortar the Israelites used in Egypt. Roberts's particular mix of almonds, pistachios, dates, and dried apricots, reflective of the Middle East, is outstanding (note that we prefer the sweet-tart complexity of California/Pacific apricots to the bland sweetness of Turkish ones). Enjoy leftover haroseth slathered on matzos or crackers; we discovered it's great with Manchego cheese as well.

Honey provides the sweet, and lemon juice the sour, in the Passover dish known as apio, which has origins in Turkey (the Ottoman Empire became a haven for Jews fleeing the Spanish Inquisition in 1492). As the celery cooks, it soaks up the braising liquid and becomes silky.

As a harbinger of spring, artichokes have a special place on the Passover table and in our hearts. One of Roberts's favorite ways to enjoy them is this elegant Roman preparation. (Rome is home to the oldest Jewish community in the Western world—the first Jews arrived in 161 b.c.e. as ambassadors from Judah Maccabee in Jerusalem.) The trimmed artichokes are braised in a lemony broth zinging with garlic and mint, which is later reduced to a satiny sauce.

The color yellow symbolized joy for medieval Arabs, who were cultivating saffron in Spain by 960 c.e. Sephardic Jews were equally inspired by the coveted spice, and golden rice became a holiday and Sabbath tradition. This version, made with basmati rice, is punctuated by caramelized onion, currants, and fried almonds.

Matzo brei is a Jewish dish made from eggs scrambled with matzo that is traditionally served for breakfast. This version has a few Mexican twists.

In my take on the French classic, chicken with forty cloves of garlic becomes brisket with thirty-six cloves. All that feisty garlic turns sweet and mellow with gentle braising; when pureed, it forms a seductive gravy, which is finished with a zing of chopped raw garlic and lemon zest. Why thirty-six cloves? Beginning with aleph, which equals one, each letter of the Hebrew alphabet stands for a number, and so every word has a numerical value. All multiples of eighteen, the numerical value of the Hebrew word chai, life, are considered especially auspicious, which is why donations to charity and wedding and bar mitzvah gifts are often given in multiples of eighteen.

This is a taste of prewar Hungary, from the family repertoire of my dear friend, Judy Abrams, gifted teacher and poet. Based on ground walnuts and leavened only with eggs, this light, fudge-luscious cake has not a jot of butter or flour, making it Passover-perfect for meat or dairy meals. To conclude a meat meal, it is delectable plain or dusted fancifully with confectioners' sugar (a Passover recipe without cornstarch below) or glazed with a simple chocolate icing. For a dairy dish, cover the torte in swirls of lightly sweetened whipped cream or serve with scoops of vanilla ice cream on the side, accompanied by a steaming cup of strong cappuccino. Enjoy this beautifully moist and virtually no-fail torte not just on Passover, but year round. When well wrapped (without icing), it keeps very well, tasting even better a day or two after it is made. As with all nut pastries, be sure the walnuts you are using are very fresh-tasting.

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 matzo balls in a free-wheeling ode to spring.

Add a little color to the Festival of Lights with zucchini pancakes that shine green. Lighter than potato latkes, they're the Mediterranean cousins who've traveled north to visit family in eastern Europe.

Every family has its own (ahem, best) version of these savory potato pancakes. We’re offering you a classic formula, though not everyone drains the potato mixture before frying—we find this prevents the latkes from absorbing too much oil and allows them to crisp into golden disks. Maybe this will become the new family favorite.

Meet the latke's larger, Swiss cousin: the Rösti. This recipe makes two giant potato cakes; if you want to serve them at the same time, you’ll need to use two skillets (heavy ones produce the crispest results).

Chopping by hand or using a meat grinder will preserve the homemade, chunky texture of this traditional chopped liver.

This irresistible honey cake is moist, lightly spiced, and scented with coffee, fresh orange juice, and rye whiskey.

Meatballs in Tomato Sauce Served with rice, this is one of the homely everyday dishes of virtually every Sephardi community. We called them "blehat." In Turkey they call them "yullikas." In the old days people fried the meatballs first, but now you often find them poached in the sauce. Sometimes they are briefly roasted in the oven at high heat to brown them slightly and firm them before stewing.