The Bread of Affliction Part 1

Matza. 'Cardboard', as my father called it. In Hebrew, matza is referred to as, 'lechem oni' or the bread of 'poverty', for it is made from only two ingredients-- flour and water--coincidentally the same two ingredients used to make Papier-mâché paste. For the eight days (7 in Israel) of Passover, we are commanded to eat this glue that binds our gastro-intestinal system together. Some masochists actually think it tastes good. These people obviously suffer from some sort of taste bud disorder, but hey, in the end, and considering it must be eaten, they are the lucky ones and must be respected.

I will make no bones about it. I can't stand matza. I eat as little of it as possible (and yes, I've tried the different brands and the different kinds...actually settlling on Shmura matza as my best-of-the-worst). I like matza in matza balls...and that's it. Don't start selling me on the glories of matze brei. I hate the smell, and I hate how it looks. New Hubby is trying to convince me that matza pancakes are yummy. Let him enjoy.

While I'm on the topic, I don't comprehend why ANYONE would want to make matza bagels. I know, I know...YOURS are delicious...and if I tried them, I would change my mind. Well, forget it. The concept is simply gross. And I don't want to hear how I must crunch up matza in chocolate milk because it tastes just like Cocoa Puffs. Yeah, right. And while I'm sounding like Sam-I-Am, I don't want to smother my matza with anything to hide the taste.

I will concede that matza pizza is actually not too bad... matza cheese kugel is okay, too. However, the true test of any Pesach food is whether or not one would eat it AFTER Pesach. Guess what? I would not.

Having said all that, it is precisely because I hate matza that I love it so much. You see, I love that matza forces me out of my comfort zone, and I believe that this is what Pesach is all about.

Growing up, we weren't as 'fortunate' as we are today to have so many products on the shelves that can (theoretically) make Pesach more...palatable. Today, grocery stores are stocked with shelf after shelf of 'imitation chometz' (I made that up), aimed at tricking people into thinking that Pesadik food is as good as, and is as easy to make as the food we have the other 51 weeks of the year. Indeed, I myself have boasted about Pesadik things my mom makes, saying, 'You would never guess it was for Pesach! It takes good enough to have all year!" I obviously wasn't thinking straight. The more I think about it, the more I consider that the attitude I just described smacks of being a little, shall we say, 'anti-Pesadik'.

I'm certainly not advocating that anyone refrain from using any of these products or that we should only make what our grandmothers did. When we sing the Ma Nishtana, however, we need to remind ourselves that this night is different, and embrace the fact that not only the food is different, but that there's a reason for it.

Pesach means different shopping, different foods, and different preparation. It means forgetting where we put the 'whatever' when we put it away last year. It means remembering where we stored the 'thing', so we can retrieve it for cooking, or for the seders. Pesach forces us to operate just a bit differently, and I believe that's essential for us, even if the differences are only slight. We need to feel a bit unsettled. We need matza. We need that glue to keep us grounded.....

....Which leads me to Part 2 of this Matza rant. Stay tuned next week for the Erev Pesach post!

It's all about the Chicken Soup

'Passover is a holiday created by men for women'. These are the words my grandmother would mutter each year as she would deftly attach the hand grinder to the kitchen table to prepare the gefilte fish. Times have changed, to be sure, but the task of dealing with the holiday remains an enormous undertaking. Between cleaning and cooking, by the time we sit down to seder, everyone's exhausted.

When my kiddies were little, my preparation for Pesach began in December during Winter break (you read this correctly), when I would begin cleaning out the linen cupboard. The kids knew that as soon as the calendar turned to January, the decree they dreaded would be proclaimed: 'Pesach is coming. It is time to start using up the chometz. Henceforth, there will be no purchase of cereal (and believe me, we had a lovely assortment) until after Pesach'.

My geniuses also realized that the edict also meant a moratorium on the purchase of any junk food. There would be no more corn chips, cheese snacks, potato chips or bought cookies until after the holidays....except of course for the mountains of hamentashen and mishloach manot on Purim that would magically last until Pesach. The objective was clear...use up as much of the food in the pantry as we could. Once it was clean, the kitchen would be on its way to becoming kashered, or Passover-ready, which was and is the ultimate goal.

All of the above was and remains a mere preamble to the task of cooking for the seders. For me, the race to the finish begins with making chicken soup. I generally find it a chore-- time consuming and messy, so I feel a sense of acccomplishment when it's done. It seems I'm not the only one.

For many years, I had a race of sorts going with a friend and former parent of a student of mine. Each year, she would ask me just after Purim if I had made my soup yet. Invariably, I'd win by a day or two, and she would sigh. I soon realized that the race to make chicken soup was in and of itself part of the ritual of preparing for the holidays. That is, until now.

This year is different.

No, I'm not at the stage yet where my kids are making the seders. And no, I'm not going elsewhere for seders. This year, however, I'm not in the usual rush. This year my friends, for the first time, I will have the privilege of enjoying the luxury I've always dreamt about. This year, I have a Pesach kitchen...and I have to say, I feel like a gefilte fish out of water.

This brand new, second kitchen represents a freedom from bondage of a sorts to me. No doubt there will still be a race as there always is, but it will be more controlled. I don't feel the pressure that I've always felt. I don't feel the need to rush. I've purchased what I need, but I'm still procrastinating, still in denial. All I need to do is take that first leap, and when I do, I will be experiencing Pesach a bit differently than in all other years....a bit out of my comfort zone, but in a very good way.

And although I'm coming at this in a very decadent way, dealing with freedom is what this holiday is about. As I peel my vegetables, and plop the chicken in the pot, I'm going to think about all of my 'freedoms'--especially the one that allows me to put my thoughts to invisible paper and share them with you!

Happy preparations!

My Mom's Chicken Soup

1 (2 pkg) Soup chicken (mature chicken) Where I come from, mature chickens come frozen and in packages of half chickens, because they are much larger than regular chickens
1 pkg turkey bones (5 or 6)
3 pkg chicken bones (I actually collect them in bags as I go when I make chicken. I trim the breast bones and bag them....but that's during the year, not for Pesach)

8 stalks of celery
1 lb (one prepackaged bag) parsnips (peeled)
2 lbs carrots (peeled)
4 onions  (whole, peeled)
dill (optional and to your liking)
That's it...no salt, pepper or anything else.

Put chicken and bones (both chicken and turkey) in 16 quart pot (this recipe is easily halved, but why make soup so often?). Cover (but just) with water. Don't put too much water in! Boil.
When boiling, add veggies. Bring to a boil again and then reduce heat. Simmer for 3 hours. This, by the way, is why the ingredients remain simple. The right amount of water, and lengthy cooking time creates the flavourful soup.
Remove chicken and veggies, keeping the carrots. I used to skim the soup, but Emeril Lagasse says you don't, so I don't, and I think he's right. Besides, it saves time and mess....both a big Hurray! Cool soup and strain.
Later that day or the next, make chicken pot pie or stir fry or chicken salad with the boiled chicken...or give the chicken to a friend who likes it, so it shouldn't go to waste.
Cool soup and put in fridge for 24 hours.
Next day, skim fat, and then refrigerate or freeze. Don't forget the matza balls. I like Streit's best!

Left(overs) in the dark

Leftovers. Reruns, as I like to call them. They are the remnants of a meal that was. These are the forgotten soldiers that remain uneaten, doomed from the moment the meal is completed. Now that I am about to embark on cleaning out my fridge and freezer in preparation for Pesach, I feel that it's time to examine the plight of the lowly leftover. Today, I will attempt to shed some light on this often avoided, misunderstood and highly underrated food group.

The story is always the same. As the meal winds down and the diners begin to lean back on their chairs, rubbing their tummies in blissful satiation, the host and/or hostess peruses the food on the serving platters and suddenly realizes that a tactical error of miscalculation has been committed. Not all of the food has been eaten. A feable, final plea is issued, coercing and cajoling the already comatose partakers to have a little more, but to no avail. It quickly becomes clear that the inevitable is about to unfold.

With quiet nods indicating that the meal is indeed over, the platters are ceremonially lifted off of the table. The funerary march  is brief yet solemn. The food is somberly placed on the kitchen counter, one serving plate after another. Depending on the occasion and the number of diners and helpers, a wake of sorts springs forth. In a most macabre fashion, the meal now complete is jovially discussed whilst the leftovers sit forelornly on their platters, listening and lingering in utter jealousy and despair.

A party-like atmosphere is not always the case. Many times, there is only one person left in the kitchen to deal with the aftermath of the meal. The din of dining now becomes a quiet moment of reflection. Dirty dishes with scant remnants of the meal sit ready for washing. Those are happy plates, their emptiness signifying the smugness born of gustatory satisfaction. The eyes of the person in charge quickly move away from the dishes and flit from platter to platter, assessing the situation. An audible sigh is heard as the reality of the situation sinks in, and the big question is asked---do I have enough containers to hold all of this?

That question signals the next phase--packaging up the leftovers. Rarely is this task done with a smile. It's a chore, and the food is painfully aware of this. The physical torture that ensues is nothing less than heartbreaking. Vegetables that mere moments before were plated separately and artistically are now shoved and crammed together in a suffocating container that promises to lock in freshness. Lock-in indeed! Sauce is now mixed with meat. And sometimes, if there's enough room in the container, potatoes are tossed on top as an afterthought. It is utterly demeaning.

Finally, after all is tidied up, comes the step all leftovers dread--the move to the refrigerator...or even worse, the freezer. While the freezer is considered rerun food hell, the fridge is more of a type of purgatory, for the fridge is where food tends to get lost. Before the food is even aware of it, its container somehow begins to slip deep into the recesses of the fridge behind big bottles of ketchup, or newer, fresher food. By the time it resurfaces, it has become (sigh) inedible.

My friends, while the situation seems bleak, I'm here to tell you that it most certainly is not. Leftovers can live a vital life after retirement. Some foods re-used (like soup) remain perfect on their own. Paired with a fresh addition (salad and fresh bread), these foods are barely recognizable as leftovers. Other leftovers get a new life in exciting new ways. Challah becomes french toast. Boiled chicken becomes pot pie, or chicken salad or stir fry.....and the leftover brisket topped with leftover mashed potatoes becomes an awesome Shepherd's pie.

I admit that in the past, I looked at leftovers with disdain. I preferred to eat anything except that which I had eaten a day or two before. But people grow and change. I am now thrilled to report that I have been reborn. I have a whole new attitude toward reruns. I view leftovers as an opportunity.

Often, especially when I have a lot of people for dinner, I get preoccupied with the hosting, and don't concentrate on the food sitting on my plate. Leftovers give me the chance to enjoy the meal again, but this time quietly and in my own time. Not only do I not have to cook an entire meal again, but I can relive the dinner experience I had with every bite, sometimes months later when I unearth them from the bowels of my freezer. And all I have to do is reheat and enjoy! All the pots have already been washed. It's a beautiful thing.

There is one more great advantage to leftovers--sharing with others. I derive great satisfaction sharing leftovers with my newlywed daughter and her hubby. I'm stretching out a meal, stretching out the joy.

So dear friends, as you rummage through your freezer and unearth last month's dinner with the relatives, I urge you to raise the spirit of the rerun. Give it a new life, a new opportunity. Give leftovers a chance--today.

Hot Diggity Hamentash!

One of my great pleasures this year in my new capacity at work is the activity I've dubbed, 'Make-it-and-bake-it-Tuesdays'. Although we serve breakfast every day, each Tuesday morning my charges and I prepare a taste treat that will be baked during the day on Tuesday for breakfast the following day. As the year has progressed, the children and I (ages 2 1/2 to 11) have honed the menu according to their likes and dislikes.

After breakfast one day a couple of weeks ago, I had an idea and called my group together for a 'meeting'. I explained to them that I had been thinking about what to make for breakfast on the Tuesday before Purim. I had this brain wave of creating a 'breakfast' hamentash as a Purim treat and wanted their opinion as to what to use as a filling. At first, the children looked at me as if I were even more daft than they knew me to be, but when they realized that I was serious, they were eager to brainstorm.                      

I began with what I thought was a good idea. I explained that I envisioned taking the granola bars that have been a crowd pleaser all year and crushing them up, using them as the Hamentash filling. My concept was met with a resounding, "That sounds gross", which quite astounded me. In the end, I didn't listen to them and made them with the kids anyway. They were a big hit, but at the time I weakened a bit and countered with, "Alright then. Let's hear your suggestions".

A boy in Grade 2 became quite passionate about his idea that I fill the hamentashen with broccoli, which began as something amusing, but got us thinking in a different direction. A few moments later from somewhere in the crowd, someone called out, "Let's use hot dogs". This suggestion met with great enthusiasm by all. I started to wonder...a savory hamentash? It had never occurred to me. I supposed it would be possible....but wouldn't it be blasphemous? On the other hand I speculated, perhaps it's simply.... innovative! I told my gang that I would give it some thought and get back to them.

That evening, I sat down at the computer, looking up recipes that used hot dogs (I would be using veggie hot dogs as our school kitchen is dairy). I found a couple of recipes for sandwich fillings, the thought of which made me gag, but when I got my mind's eye away from the thought of something that would resemble the consistency and colour of dog food or Spam, I began to envision the bigger picture, and the idea for the Hot Dog Hamentashen started to gel.

My first decision was an easy one..I would use puff pastry as the dough. Off I went to the supermarket to buy the dough and the hot dogs. My children were home for Reading Week, so they would be the guinea pigs for this insane concoction.

I began my filling by making some mashed potatoes. Because this was meant for breakfast and is intended for young children, I made things as simple as possible. I flavoured the potato water with some Osem chicken soup, and then used some of the water to facilitate the mash, leaving out anything else adults might like (onions, especially). When the mash cooled, I added the cut up veggie dogs and added a couple of spoonfuls of relish to give it a bit of sweetness. I then cut the puff pastry into circles, stuffed them with the filling and put them in the oven at 425 for 15 minutes.

Lo and behold, the hamentashen kept their shape during the baking. I served them with a dab of ketchup and mustard, and my family gave them two thumbs up. But what would the kids at school think?

This morning, as the hamentashen were placed in front of them, mustard and ketchup on the side, they were initially met with the same skepticism that I had. But it didn't last. One brave child bit in. The eyes widened with surprise, and then came the declaration, "They're GOOOOD!!!!" It didn't take long for the rest of them to disappear.

Savory hamentashen? Not so unsavoury after all.
Purim Sameach to all!

Iron Chef-Kosher

Iron Chef is great entertainment. For those of you who haven't discovered it yet, it is (originally) a (Japanese) show where two great chefs face each other in a 'kitchen stadium' hosted by the 'Chairman'....or in America, the 'Chairman's nephew'. One contestant is an 'in house' Iron Chef, a specialist in a particular cuisine; the other, his or her challenger. The two must make a meal in 60 minutes using the 'secret ingredient' in each of their 4 or 5 dishes. The winner's cuisine reigns supreme! The entire event runs something like a sporting event, with the play-by-play being announced along the way. It's fantastically hokey. Truthfully, the American version doesn't hold a candle to the Japanese one, mostly because (a) we lose the horrible dubbing from the original, which is worth the watch in and of itself and (b) we are constantly wondering how the actor who played Jean Valjean in the Japanese production of Les Miz has suddenly been transformed into a Chairman.

Watching this show gives me a huge chuckle. Here are these chefs with their one or two underlings creating genius meals as the clock ticks down.  That in and of itself is not funny. But what is funny (at least to warped-minded me) is what I see in my mind's eye. While the TV chefs run around the kitchen so brilliantly focused, I envision every observant Jewish man or woman I've ever known or heard of, attempting to get a Shabbat or Yom tov meal cooked before it is time to light candles, when cooking must, by Jewish law, stop. I call this population, Iron Chefs-Kosher.

I don't know why it is, but no matter how early I begin cooking on a Friday, it's always the same;  Groundhog Day meets The Frisco Kid. As the sun begins to set and candle lighting draws near, I am always finding myself calling out 'Time?' or 'How many minutes?'. As I fly from pot to stove to oven, my eyes dart around the kitchen, from what I'm cooking, to the window to check how much sunlight remains, to the clock on the wall and back to what I'm cooking. At 60 seconds to candlelighting, I'm checking the soup to see if it's hot and making sure that everything in the oven is cooked. And when the timer hit's zero, just like the Iron Chefs on TV, the spoon goes down, the towel gets tossed, and voila, the meal is cooked and ready to be served.

The Iron Chefs on TV are exhausted preparing a meal for the Chairman and three judges, but just imagine if you will, making Shabbat for 75. No, this story isn't about the life of a caterer; it's about a McGill University student and her quest to prepare for the 'Ghetto Shul', her student-run synagogue's 'Sustainable Shabbat' dinner.

Ghetto Shul in Montreal has been around now for 11 years, catering to the student community at McGill University and Concordia. This year, The Ghetto Shul started a new initiative as a result of a grant. Instead of catering Shabbat meals, the students now cook the meals for their congregation.

This new initiative added a twist--it designated that the food be sustainable as well as Kosher. The task would be to create a meal that would use ingredients from the Montreal area, a challenging endeavour since this rules out staple ingredients such as soy sauce, lemon juice, vinegar, and margarine. The only exception to the Sustainable Shabbat project was the use of spices, which did not have to be local.

My daughter, Elana, offered to cook dinner and play Executive Chef. Elana has made dinner for the shul before, but not with the new sustainability rules. As we discussed the menu possibilities, we soon realized that coming up with the menu would not be difficult as we first imagined. Elana quickly assembled her ingredients and her sous chefs. So as the clock struck Thursday, with sustainability as the 'secret ingredient', the countdown to Shabbat began.

From Elana's numerous play-by-play phonecalls, it seemed that Ghetto Shul's 'kitchen stadium' was pretty heated. A small army of helpers came throughout Thursday night and Friday. Needless to say, things didn't always run smoothly. The clock ticked faster than expected.  But as the sun started to set and candles were ready to be lit, spoons were dropped and the aprons were tossed.

Indeed, thirteen hours later, the dinner was 'blech (hot plate) ready'. The menu included: 100 homemade challah rolls served with apple onion chutney and warm potato cabbage salad; 'Hoser' chicken, roasted potatoes and vegetables, and - the most interesting of the dishes - squash perogies previously known as ravioli (some improvisation was required). For dessert, apple biscotti.

The empty plates and lack of leftovers proved that the Sustainability Shabbat was a complete success. The Chairman would have been proud!

Enjoy 3 of the recipes, tailored for the Sustainable Shabbat!
Hoser Chicken
Chicken cut in 8ths
Montreal Chicken Spice
1 bottle strong beer
Maple Syrup

Place chicken in pan. Sprinkle Montreal Chicken Spice on to coat.
Pour bottle of beer over chicken.
Pour generous amount of maple syrup
Roast uncovered at 400 for an hour or until done. Baste half way through.

Apple Chutney (original recipe from Epicurious.com)

http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Red-Onion-Apple-and-Raisin-Chutney-10347#ixzz1jvBJP7zr)

3 Tablespoons Apple juice

2 Tablespoons maple syrup

1/8 tsp. dried mint

pinch of dried cloves

2 pounds red onions, quartered lengthwise and sliced thin crosswise (about 4 cups)

3 Tablespoons vegetable oil

1 local apple

In a small bowl combine the apple juice (cider vinegar would be preferable), the maple syrup, the mint, and the cloves and let the mixture stand while cooking the onions. In a large skillet cook the onions in the oil, covered, over moderately low heat, stirring occasionally, for 15 minutes, remove the lid, and continue to cook the onion, stirring, for 30 minutes, or until they are very soft. Stir in the remaining mixture and cook the mixture over moderate heat, stirring, until the liquid is almost evaporated and the apple is tender, and season the chutney with salt and pepper. The chutney may be made 3 days in advance, cooled, and kept covered and chilled. Serve the chutney at room temperature.

Spicy Potatoes, Cabbage and Carrots- http://localfoods.about.com/od/sidedishes/r/potcabcarrot.htm