Passover Planning: Booze Edition, Part I

Boozy Seder Plate Prep

Passover's coming and the first night falls on Friday, April 22nd this year. That means that The Man and I are checking our list (and checking it twice) to see what we can make ahead of time before our raucous gaggle of friends and family descend upon our house, ready to eat, drink, and retell the story of the Israelites' Exodus from Egypt.

So, those of you who have attended a Passover Seder at our house, you know we go big. We are very child-friendly and there are copious amounts of chocolates and candies for the kiddos. But we are also very adult-friendly. And that means booze. Lots of it.

The Passover Seder is known for its Four Cups of Wine symbolizing God’s relationship to the Jewish people: “God spoke to Moses: Tell the children of Israel: I will bring you out… I will rescue you… I will redeem you… I will take you for me as a people and I will be for you as a God…” (Exodus 6:2-7). But The Man and I are not ones to leave well-enough alone. Over the past few years, we have been developing cocktail recipes for shots to represent some of the symbolic foods on the Seder Plate. The first one we developed was inspired by the horseradish vodka served at Chicago's Russian Tea Time restaurant. [Stay tuned, because this shot is not the last one!]

One of the steps in the Passover Seder is the blessing over, and consumption of, bitter herbs (known as maror). Most Jews use horseradish for the maror and whether you eat it straight from the root or prepared from the jar, it is sure to clear out your sinuses (and recall the suffering of slavery). But what if you were to drink a shot of ice-cold horseradish-infused vodka? You should really try this; you won't go back.

Recipe for Maror Shots

Ingredients:

1 bottle of good potato vodka

4 oz horseradish root, peeled and sliced thin.

2 tbsp peppercorns

Dried red chili peppers, to taste

Instructions:

Combine ingredients in a large, tightly sealed jar. Shake occasionally and let sit for 24-36 hours, tasting occasionally after 24 hours.

When it's strong and to your liking, strain and rebottle. Store in the freezer.

[Bonus holiday hint: If there is any leftover vodka, try breaking your Yom Kippur fast with it in the fall!]

Happy Easter! (I made you a pie.)

Happy Easter!

While this is not a holiday that we observe in our home, I do sometimes like to add a culinary nod to The Man's heritage. However, that was usually ham and even in my meat-eating days that was a product I steered away from. 

But there are other options. My mother would often buy her beloved son-in-law some sort of chocolate product in the shape of a rabbit if she was in town. I had plans to make Anna Gentile's Ricotta Pie this weekend, but I had to rethink things. Because vegan.

As always, when attempting to come up with recipes for Christian holidays, I veer Italian. This Sunday is no exception as I am attempting a vegan version of this Neapolitan classic. As I perused the veg-web, I came across Bryanna Clark Grogan's Pastiera Napolitana (a Neopolitan Easter Grain and "Ricotta" Pie).  This classic dish sometimes has barley, sometimes orzo, and often rice as its grainy filler. And I love myself some rice pudding with a sweet ricotta. Bryanna's recipe over at vegsource.com has a lovely top and bottom crust, which I am not attempting today. Because lazy.

Here's what we did:

Ingredients for Filling: 

Rice:

1 cup soy creamer

1 cup almond milk (you could use soy)

1 1/4 cups Arborio (or other medium grain) white rice

2 tablespoons organic unbleached granulated sugar

1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract

1/4 teaspoon salt

"Ricotta" Mixture: 

3 packages medium-firm tofu, drained and crumbled 

1 1/2 cups organic unbleached granulated sugar 

1/4 cup lemon juice

2 tablespoons canola oil

2 tablespoons orange flower water (optional, but traditional)

2 tablespoons finely-grated organic orange zest

2 tablespoons finely-grated organic lemon zest

2 tablespoons cornstarch

1 tablespoon sherry or Marsala

1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract

1 teaspoon xanthum gum (Bryanna calls for agar powder, which I keep forgetting to buy)

3/4 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon salt

Pie crust:

Optional work here. I bought two pre-made crusts, but I think in the future that the vegan hamantaschen dough would make a hell of a pastry crust.

Instructions:

1. For the rice: Bring milk and creamer to boil in a medium saucepan. Stir in rice, sugar, vanilla and salt. Stir, move to low heat, and cover, cooking for about 35 minutes--until milk has been absorbed. This should not be runny.
2. For the "ricotta": Combine all the ingredients in a high-speed blender (like a Vitamix) until silky-smooth.
3. When the rice has cooled, combine with ricotta in a large mixing bowl.
4. Preheat oven to 375°.
5. Fill pie crusts and bake for 45 minutes.*
6. Cool on racks for several hours and refrigerate until serving time.

Silky smooth "ricotta"!

*This recipe made a little more than needed for two standard pie crusts. Might I suggest some ricotta fritters with the leftover filling?

Final Product!

Happy [Belated] Purim!

I'm late with the cookies. Again. I used to be so good at remembering Purim, I really did. Which is weird, because I actually have serious problems with the nature of the holiday itself.

In its ritual observance, it is a really good time. Dressing up in costumes, eating cookies, giving gifts of food to neighbors and friends, drinking until you can't remember other people's names... what's not to like? 

Well, as a child, I hated the noise. I guess I was already a crank (Get off my lawn!).  And pretty early on, I worried about the weird spirit of vengeance that the holiday seemed to inspire. I mean, in its abstract, it's an inspiring story. One person (namely a pretty lady named Esther) can bravely speak out and save a nation from genocide. But the end of the story is dark and has been used to justify pretty bad behavior. 

In my late twenties and early thirties, I got into the party elements of Purim. I mean, look back at any holiday's history and you can find some pretty weird stuff, right? So I liked the drinking (a lot), and the cookies were fun. The Man and I got into a regular habit of making them and giving them away. As a parent, celebrating with my kids is really fun. [This year, Kid 1 was a cowgirl, Kid 2 was a bankrobber.] So, to be fair, I didn't not remember Purim. I made the dough, but was late to make the cookies.

These past few years have been rough--to say the absolute least--for those who hope for peaceful resolutions to the violent conflicts around the globe. The vicious rhetoric of our politicians both reflects and fuels both new and ancient hatreds. So how does one joyfully observe Purim in a time when once speaks of real named enemies, and of blotting them out of existence? Still working on it.

But this year, I belatedly offer you a new recipe for (vegan) hamantaschen. May your spring be joyous and filled with a spirit of forgiveness and reconciliation over that of vengeance.

Coconut Cream Hamantaschen

While you can really make any hamantaschen recipe vegan by simply using an egg replacer, I found a recipe from Ha'aretz to be an interesting change, particularly its use of coconut cream. It is adapted below.

Ingredients (for dough):
75 ml. oil
70 grams sugar
160 grams coconut cream
300 grams flour
1 teaspoon baking powder

Fillings:
Anything! Jams, chocolate chips, peanut butter, poppyseed paste, etc.

Confectioners sugar (optional) for serving

Instructions:
1. Add oil and sugar to mixing bowl with an attachment for stiff dough. Mix oil and sugar in a mixing bowl with a dough hook and add coconut cream, flour, and baking powder. Mix until a dough is formed.
2.  Move dough to a floured surface; flatten and cover in plastic wrap. Freeze for one hour.
3.  Remove dough from freezer and roll out on a floured surface. 
4.  Cut circles with a cookie cutter, biscuit ring, or an upside down glass.
5. Fill middle of circles w/ 2 teaspoons of chosen filling and fold into a triangle, pinching edges to seal.
6. Put cookies back in freezer for 15 minutes.
7.  Heat oven to 340 degrees.
8.  Bake for 12 minutes.
9. Remove from oven, transfer to cooling racks.
10. Sprinkle with confectioners sugar (optional) and serve.

An explanation for our hiatus

Where we've been (and where we're going)

So when last we left you, dear readers, was at the beginning of the Jewish New Year. Oh, how optimistic we were after a summer of regular blogging. To say we were busy is true (but who isn't), but there is more at hand here. We Culinary Converters here at The Interfaith Cookbook have been undergoing a bit of a conversion ourselves. Not religious, mind you (we like to think we have that stuff figured out), but culinary. 

Regular readers may have noticed that our Rosh Hashanah meal included an eggplant variation on our traditional bbq brisket. I became a vegetarian over the summer and that meal reflected that shift in our house. In October, the Man began a "Vegan Before Six" diet, which led to the funny distinction of Vegan Before Six/Vegetarian after Six. Suddenly, eggs? Ultimately, we have both embraced a happy, around-the-clock veganism.

My history with meatless eating is long and varied. I stopped eating meat for about eight years in the 1990s, and I have long credited that time for helping me become the creative cook I am today. Diet restrictions often lead to explorations of unusual foods and flavor combinations, many of which are just delicious. When I began to eat meat again, I had a bunch of rules for myself (many of them rather arbitrary). My reasons for switching to so-called plant-based eating are personal and multi-layered, as are any such dietary choices. My commitment to not being annoying about it is pretty firm, but it seems important to at least mention it due to the nature of this blog.

Which leads us to The Interfaith Cookbook. What now, friends? Many religious holidays have celebrated meat dishes at the center of the table. What do we do about this? Well, it was always our intention to offer multiple variations on such menus in order to accommodate guests of other faiths (and dietary requirements) at your table, so at this point we plan to continue to offer discussions of traditional foods and recipes but we will also offer suggestions on how to create meatless alternatives while still embracing the spirit of the holiday. (Vegan eating also has the added benefit of being kosher by default, so these recipes could fit on any table.) We are also open to suggestions on what you would like to see more here. 

But for now, we offer you a string of meatless recipes to enhance your spring!

Jewish Days of Awe... And the Dutch

Hi all, so it's been too long!

As a Jew, an academic, and the parent of school-age children, the convergence of the new school year and the Jewish new year offers both a certain synergy and a certain chaos. It is due primarily to the chaos that what should have been a Rosh HaShanah post is now more of a "Days of Awe" post and RH recap. The ten days between Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur are known alternatively as Days of Penitence as this is a time for Jews to reflect on the previous year's deeds and attempt to make real changes before Yom Kippur, The Day of Atonement. Prayer and tzedakah (acts of charity) are encouraged. As far as food goes, there are no particular traditions. In our home, it is traditional to eat the various yummy leftovers from our Rosh HaShanah feast.

This year was no exception and thus I turn back a few days to Rosh HaShanah, which ushered in the Hebrew year 5776 on Sunday night (September 13th). We held a vegetarian meal at our house, a meatless variation on a meal we have had before:

• Apples and honey (obviously)
• Round challah
• Matzo ball soup in a veggie consommé 
• Smoked eggplant in barbecue sauce (a variation on our traditional slow-cooked bbq brisket)
• Rick Bayless' Hickory House Sour Slaw
• Hoppin' John inspired by Crook's Corner in Chapel Hill, NC (Hoppin John traditionally has some pork product in it, but ours has just rice, black-eyed peas, tomatoes, scallions and cheddar)
• salad and dessert provided by lovely friends

We went apple picking on the second day of the holiday and the Man made a seriously yummy apple cake laced with a spiced plum jam I made earlier. Dessert for the days of penitence?

Our RH feast has traditionally been flavored by our time in the South, and black-eyed peas are seen as lucky things to eat on New Year's in both Southern and Jewish culture. However, this year I want to write about something new we just found out about the Man's heritage. I have referred here to his patrilineal Norwegian side before, the side that had the most culinary influence on his family (lucky for me). However, in the past few years his Dad has started to insist that the family is Swedish (something the Man swears he never heard before). As it happens, our oldest recently had to do a Social Studies project on the push/pull factors of her family's immigration stories (a cool project for her as she descends both from Mayflower passengers and Holocaust survivors). While her grandfather continued to speak mainly of the family's Swedish ancestry, we dug a little deeper. Turns out, her grandfather's matrilineal heritage is equally Swedish and Norwegian, but his patrilineal grandparents were... Dutch!

So, both of the Man's great-grandparents were born in Holland and emigrated in the late 19th century from the Netherlands. Go figure... So naturally, I began reading up upon Dutch new year culinary traditions and look what I found: oliebollen (essentially donut balls) and appelflappen (deep-fried pies containing apples). And look what the Man sometimes makes for Rosh HaShanah and Hanukkah: Apple Doughnut Fritters! He is just SO Dutch.

We shall meet up again next week for the high holidays of Yom Kippur and Eid al Adha, Jewish and Muslim respectively, but for now I leave you with this:

On Mourning, Fasting, and Tisha B'Av

Remember how I said that Shavuot gets neglected among non-Orthodox Jews because it falls toward the end of the school year? Well, don't get me started about Tisha B'Av! Although, I'm told that it is a big deal at Jewish summer camp (which I did not attend).

Tisha B'Av (the ninth day in the Hebrew month of Av) is a communal day of mourning, marked by a 25 hour fast (sundown to sundown). It commemorates the two destructions of the Temple in Jerusalem, the first in 586 B.C.E and the second in 70 C.E. Subsequently, other atrocities suffered by the Jewish people have been added to this day of mourning. 

As this day is marked by tragedy, eating and drinking is prohibited, as is sexual relations, bathing, wearing leather shoes, and studying Torah (as this is considered a joyous activity). The Book of Lamentations is read.

The meal eaten prior to the fast is marked by eating round foods traditionally associated with mourning, such as hard-boiled eggs and lentils. The meal that concludes the fast traditionally lacks meat or wine, suggesting that the destruction of the Temple continued past the 25 hour mark. As such, an ideal food for either pre- or post-fast is the comfort food classic, mjedderah. Mjedderah is a heavenly, homey mix of lentils and rice--a perfect meal. The recipe that follows is one we have been making for years; it's easy and delicious. I recently made a version from Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi's amazing Jerusalem: A Cookbook. Their recipe is decidedly more labor intensive than ours, but totally worth it if you've got the time.

In recent years, Tisha B'Av and Ramadan have coincided. When that happens, some Jewish congregations and mosques will offer a joint iftar, or Break Fast. However, unlike such gatherings on Yom Kippur, the atmosphere surrounding Tisha B'Av is far more sorrowful. At no point do you wish somebody a Happy Tisha B'Av. You should, of course, always wish people a Happy Ramadan.

Mjedderah

1 cup rice
1/2 cup dried brown lentils, soaked for one hour, rinsed several times, and drained
1 tsp cumin (or to taste)
1 1/2 cups vegetable broth*
salt and pepper to taste
2 tbsp butter
1 onion, sliced thin
2 tbsp olive oil

In a medium saucepan combine the lentils and rice, add vegetable broth and the cumin. Add salt, pepper and butter. Bring to  boil, cover and lower the heat to simmer. Meanwhile, fry the onion in the olive oil until golden. When the rice is cooked, remove from heat and let rest for twenty minutes. Fluff with a fork. Serve on a platter with fried onions on top. 

We like this with served with Greek yogurt mixed with chopped cucumber, mint and a chopped jalapeño. 

*The recipe I originally made called for beef broth. This recipe has been adjusted for those keeping kosher and is dairy/vegetarian. Alternatively, you could use beef broth and substitute margarine for this to be a meat dish.

Eid Mubarak!

A little late on a post here. Apologies to my feasting friends, I've been traveling--for pleasure and for work--and am just now trying to get my house to look like grownups live in it. Good thing I wasn't planning on having fifty of my nearest and dearest over for Eid-al-Fitr!

Eid-al-Fitr, as many of you know, is the big iftar (break-fast) for Ramadan. It is sometimes known as the Lesser Eid (in relation to Eid-al-Adha). The holiday begins on the first day of the Islamic month of Shawwal and can lead to feasting and rejoicing for three days. This year, Eid began on July 18 in the US (so I'm just getting this post in under the wire). The mood is festive and, for some Muslims, this is an occasion of gift-giving.

Perhaps I'm overly tuned in to holiday coverage these days, but it does seem like major US news outlets are spending a lot of time on Ramadan these days. I'm thrilled, but I wonder what has led to the sudden discovery of this holiday that well over one billion people observe. Is it finally the mainstreaming of Ramadan or is it an over-correction? Whatever the reason, I'm happy about it if it leads to more sweet treats highlighting cardamom. 

And since my own kitchen is a bit of a train wreck these days, I leave you with one such recipe published recently in The New York Times but inspired by the lovely blog My Tamarind Kitchen: 

Sweet Vermicelli With Cardamom (Muzaffar Seviyan) 

INGREDIENTS

• 4 to 5 green cardamom pods

• ½ teaspoon saffron

• 2 tablespoons ghee, clarified butter or high-fat butter

• ½ cup chopped pistachios, plus 1 tablespoon whole pistachios

• 6 ounces vermicelli noodles, broken into 1-inch pieces (about 1½ cups)

• 1 cup sugar

• 2 tablespoons sweetened or unsweetened flaked coconut, for serving

• 1 tablespoon raisins, for serving

• 1 tablespoon slivered almonds, for serving

• 1 cup khoya (thickened milk solids) or heavy cream, for serving

PREPARATION

1. Crush cardamom pods with a mortar and pestle or the side of a chef’s knife and remove seeds (discard husks).
2. Bring 2 cups water to a boil in a small saucepan. Remove 1 tablespoon of boiling water and use it to steep the saffron. Keep remaining water hot.
3. Heat the ghee in a wok or large skillet over medium-high. Add chopped pistachios and cardamom seeds and stir-fry until the cardamom is fragrant and the pistachios begin to lightly brown, about 1 minute. Reduce heat to medium and add vermicelli. Cook, stirring constantly, until vermicelli is browned and toasted, 3 to 4 minutes.
4. Reduce heat to medium low and add boiling water and steeped saffron. Cook, stirring occasionally, until vermicelli is tender and all the water is absorbed, about 8 minutes.
5. Stir in sugar until dissolved and cook 2 minutes more. Serve warm topped with the coconut, raisins, almonds, whole pistachios and khoya.

Serves 6-8.

On Vacation and the Taste of Summer

Privilege alert:

The Culinary Converter's family is packing up and heading for Jamaica! Due to the largess of my beloved mother, our extended (and scattered) family tries to get together in some beautiful and sunny place once a year. We are heading to what I think is one of the most beautiful places in the world, a small resort outside of Montego Bay. For about six months, I have thought about what I will have for lunch when I arrive: Bustupshut Roti (paratha roti) with curried shrimp and green mango chutney. Possibly with a Red Stripe (I will already have had a rum punch, probably at the airport).

The food. Oh, the food. Curries, ackee and saltfish, spicy meat patties, curried goat. Mangos, pineapple and papaya. Oh my. Also, the coffee. Jamaica has a long and fascinating religious history. This diversity has also left its stamp on the country's cuisine. 

View image | gettyimages.com

While known mainly for its indigenous Rastafarian movement, the Rastafari are a religious minority in Jamaica, constituting less than 5% of the population. The traditional Rastafari diet called Ital (like vital) tends toward vegetarian, although fish is not uncommon.

View image | gettyimages.com

Highly churched, the island country boasts the largest number of churches per square mile in the world. But despite being overwhelmingly Protestant, Jamaica is religiously and ethnically diverse and this diversity has also left its stamp on the country's cuisine. While Islam first came to the island through West African slaves and was systematically destroyed by the institution of slavery (much like in the US), Islam arrived in a new wave with Indian laborers in the 19th century. Bahá'ís also make up a notable Jamaican minority. Jews have been in Jamaica since the Spanish Inquisition and, while they have never amassed large numbers, have left a cultural imprint on the island (Bob Marley's father's family was of Syrian Jewish descent; take that Jewish Geography!). 

The Man and I went to Jamaica for our honeymoon thirteen years ago and it definitely changed the way we cook. And the way we drank. We had the privilege of staying at the beautiful Jamaica Inn outside of Ocho Rios. Every morning began with Jamaican Blue Mountain Coffee on our balcony and was swiftly followed by a delicious Planter's Punch on the beach. Now, I have been chasing that punch recipe for about a decade. Every island does their rum punch differently, and every establishment has their own variation. While I have been (crazy) fortunate to be able to explore rum punches in quite a few Caribbean locales, nothing beats the original at the Jamaica Inn. And while I can't guarantee that this recipe is exactly what the Inn provided us back in 2003, this punch (the result of much trial and error) will send you to Jamaica, at least in your mind. 

For those of you who like the cocktails and the rum, we leave you for the week with this gem:

Planter's Punch

Note: Don't neglect the nutmeg. The Man thought I was bit looney when he saw me take the grater out, but when he tried the drink both with and without, he agreed emphatically that it is essential. Make a pitcher of this stuff; you won't be sorry. 

2 ounces Jamaican Rum (Appleton rum is preferable)

1/2 oz fresh lime juice

1/2 oz fresh lemon juice

1 oz fresh orange juice

2 oz pineapple juice

1/2 oz grenadine or to taste (The Man likes his drinks sweet, me not so much)

Angostura and Peychaud's bitters to taste

freshly grated nutmeg for garnish

pineapple wedge, orange slice, and maraschino cherry (optional garnishes)

Combine all but the nutmeg in a shaker. Shake and strain into a rocks-filled glass. Garnish with freshly grated nutmeg and any optional fruit. Salut!

So, are you going somewhere this summer? What will you be eating and drinking on vacay?

On the Summer Solstice and Savoring the Light

I have serious Midsummer envy. Or more correctly, I have Midsommar envy. I don't know if it stems from all the Scandinavian crime fiction I've been devouring over the past few years (certainly that must have something to do with the Swedish spirit Aquavit having taken up shelf space in my home bar), or if it's my love of midcentury Scandi style, but somehow Sweden is having a moment. 

But back to the subject at hand. Midsummer/Midsommar is what the Swedes (and many others) call their celebration of the Summer Solstice, the longest day of the year (June 21st). In Northern Europe, Midsummer is a major celebration, linked to the Christian Feast of St. John the Baptist (June 24), despite predating Christianity. This festival is also known as Litha to Neopagans, but the term solstice comes from the way that the sun appears to stand still at this time of year. In Europe, this festival is marked by maypoles, bonfires and singing. It is the true start of summer, when children end school and people prepare to leave on holiday. It is generally held on June 21st or June 24th. 

The Man, who is half Norwegian, is the unfortunate recipient of my Scandiphilia. Despite his heritage, he didn't exactly grow up in a home filled with herring and stories about trolls. He's from South Jersey. When we got engaged (and I still thought I might hyphenate my last name) I urged him to return the K to the beginning of his last name which starts with N--the silent K having dropped off the boat on his great-grandparents' voyage to the United States. He laughed me off, saying I just wanted him to be more ethnic than he actually was. This accusation was accurate. Midsummer is celebrated widely in Poland, from whence much of my ancestry hails (but let's face it, my Polish ancestors--the Jews--were not exactly sun worshippers).

So, I don't come by observance of Midsummer honestly, but I feel like this festival could easily be added to our roster of excuses to party. I guess our local Strawberry Festival is sort of a stand in for this unofficial start to summer, but Midsummer just seems more ancient and festive. Plus, there's smoked fish.

And booze.

In the United States, there is no unified celebration of this long summer day. The observance of Midsummer depends greatly on the regional immigrant culture. For example, Swedish Midsummer celebrations are held in areas with large Swedish or Scandinavian populations. The Swedish Consulate also cosponsors a large Midsummer Festival in Battery Park (in Manhattan).

Anyway, I sort of wish this was more of a thing in the States. Here in Western New York, I feel a kinship with the Scandinavians (and not just because of all the crime fiction I read). We too have a long winter, one that drags on until you think you can't bear it anymore, and then it snows again. The joy that comes with the true arrival of summer is hard to put into words. The only way to express it is to GO OUTSIDE.

And maybe drink some rhubarb liqueur.

So, a few weeks ago The Man and I went to see A Prairie Home Companion and Garrison Keillor was talking about rhubarb wine. The Man's ears pricked up (as they often due at any mention of rhubarb and/or booze). We went home and did some research, but honestly it seems like a lot of work. So we went our usual riff-on-limoncello route. The results, I'm happy to say, were delicious.

The recipe follows, along with pictures. We think, were we to do it again (and why wouldn't we?), we would only use the red part of the stalks. Our rhubarb wasn't super red to begin with, but we were hoping for a pinker result.

Summer Solstice Rhubarb Liqueur (tentative name)

750 ml grain alcohol/neutral spirit*

375 grams of sugar

750 ml water

4-5 cups chopped rhubarb

Peel of one orange (taking care to avoid the white pith)

Combine the chopped rhubarb, orange peel, and the alcohol in a large jar (or something airtight), let sit for at least two weeks (shaking occasionally).

After its resting time, strain the alcohol using a coffee filter and discard the fruit.  Make a simple syrup, boiling the water and adding the sugar until dissolved. Once the syrup cools, combine with the rhubarb-infused alcohol. Pour into bottles or jars and keep chilled.

Serve in shot glasses, add to seltzer over ice, or drizzle over strawberry shortcake. Enjoy!

*There are those who will want to use vodka. That's between them and their god. I vote with the Italians and use grain alcohol.

Here's my charge for the Summer Solstice: Invite some friends over for potluck, light a fire in the fire pit, roast marshmallows, drink excessively (if that's your jam), and Dance Dance Dance!

Ramadan Mubarak!

Tonight marks the start of the Muslim holy month of Ramadan. You can be cool and greet your friends who are observing this festival with Ramadan Mubarak (Have a Blessed Ramadan) or Ramadan Kareem (Have a Generous Ramadan).

So here’s the thing, I LOVE breaking a fast. And I kind of enjoy fasting in the ways that many Jews do, the one 25 hour fast—once a year on Yom Kippur. I think it’s a time to reflect on the past year and consider the year to come. Occasionally, I even have moments of transcendence. Sometimes they are in the synagogue but more often they are in the kitchen. And yes, you really aren’t supposed to cook on Yom Kippur, but I host a Break Fast every year (and have since I started fasting) and the Man and I get really into it. I also enjoy the challenge of cooking without tasting—it makes me feel a bit like a Hare Krishna. But I guess it’s also the daily challenge during the month of Ramadan.

“The month of Ramadan is that in which was revealed the Qur’an; a guidance for mankind, and clear proofs of the guidance, and the criterion (of right and wrong). And whosoever of you is present, let him fast the month, and whosoever of you is sick or on a journey, a number of other days. Allah desires for you ease; He desires not hardship for you; and that you should complete the period, and that you should magnify Allah for having guided you, and that perhaps you may be thankful. ”

— Qur’an 2:185

Ramadan, as many know, is a month of mandatory fasting from dawn until sunset for Muslims around the world. This fasting period commemorates the first revelations of the Qur’an to the Prophet Muhammad. Fasting during Ramadan (sawm) is one of the five pillars of Islam and in this case includes abstention from food, drink, and sex during daylight hours. It’s not just about the “not eating” however. Muslims also practice restraint from generally sinful speech and behavior; for many, this month is seen as a spiritual jumpstart. No matter your behavior in the previous year, many Muslims choose to rededicate themselves to the tenets of their religion, increasing their attention to prayer and acts of charity. This month is seen as an opportunity to atone for previous sins, gain approval from Allah, and develop empathy for the suffering of others.

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

The ninth month in the Islamic lunar calendar, Ramadan can fall at any point in the Gregorian calendar year. And that means that the day of fasting can be shorter or longer depending on the season. The upside for the summer is that younger people are less likely to be in school, and don’t have to worry about the distraction of hunger pains. The downside is that the day is LONG.

Muslims who are fasting wake up early to have a hearty pre-dawn meal called suhoor. This meal needs to have a certain amount of fiber and protein in order to get you through the day (sawm is not meant to make practitioners suffer). Also, things you might not think about (at least at first): hydration. You need to hydrate. Buzzfeed has a great list of energy-releasing foods to eat for suhoor.

But for many Muslims who reminisce about Ramadans past, iftar (the breaking of the fast) is where it’s at.

There are certain foods that are typical for Ramadan, although there are also favorites that are determined by the timing of the festival. Certain dishes are preferred in the winter over the summer, for example. But usually the fast is broken simply, with a date, and followed up by feasting with friends. The mood is celebratory, more like Christmas than Lent or Yom Kippur. Because the reason for the fasting is to celebrate the revealed word of Allah.

One of our favorite soups is harira, a bean soup that is a traditional iftar meal in Morocco. It can be made with or without meat. Our favorite version is vegetarian and we eat it all year long. Somehow, the lack of meat seems to make it more suitable for a summer Ramadan. Honestly, this soup is so good and hearty, you could easily eat it for suhoor as well!

Vegetarian Harira

(Adapted from Kitty Morse’s North Africa: The Vegetarian Table)

2 tablespoons olive oil

2 onions, sliced

1 28-ounce can whole tomatoes

¼ teaspoon ground turmeric

¼ teaspoon ground ginger

¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon

20 sprigs cilantro

20 sprigs flat-leaf Italian parsley

8 threads Spanish saffron, lightly crushed

8 cups water

1 cup lentils, rinsed and picked over

1 15-ounce can chickpeas (with their liquid)

1 15-ounce can foul madammas (with their liquid)*

1 teaspoon salt

Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

½ cup broken dried egg noodles or orzo

1 egg, lightly beaten

Juice of 2 lemons (optional)

Lemon wedges

Crusty bread

Heat oil in large soup pot over medium-high heat. Cook onions, stirring occasionally, until golden, 6-8 minutes. Meanwhile, puree tomatoes, turmeric, ginger, cinnamon, cilantro, parsley, saffron, salt and pepper in a blender or food processor (you might have to do this in batches). Add to the onions and bring to boiling. Add the water and lentils, cover tightly and lower heat to a simmer. Cook until lentils are tender, about 30 minutes. Add the chickpeas and foul mudammas and bring back up to a low boil. Add the pasta and cook until tender, 6-7 minutes. Drop the egg in the soup and stir so it forms strands in the soup. Ladle harira into individual bowls and serve with lemon wedges and crusty bread.

Serves 8.

*Foul madammas are canned fava beans. You can find them in some supermarkets in the Middle Eastern section, as well as in ethnic groceries and specialty food stores.

Other Savory Treats for Ramadan

Last year, Rabia Chaudry (a tireless voice for interfaith dialogue) offered a really good-looking samosa on her blog Split the Moon. 

“This Ramadan I pray for peace between Israelis and Palestinians. Because Ramadan is a time for peace. It is also a time for not eating food. But is also kind of a time for eating lots of food. For Pakistanis, much of that food is deep fried. And the best deep fried thing ever created by man or woman is the samosa.”

— Rabia Chaudry, "Have a Samosa" at Split the Moon

 I think I may have to agree. Here's to fried food and peace in our time. Ramadan Kareem, my friends.

Ramadan preparations in Jerusalem's Old City (photo from Haaretz)

On Strawberry Festivals and Full Moons

Sunday (June 14th), in addition to being National Strawberry Shortcake Day, was the hallowed occasion of our neighborhood Strawberry Festival. In our cute little hamlet in Western New York, our neighborhood association annually sponsors this gathering. Located on a (small-ish) green space a few blocks from my house, this festival features a bounce house, strawberry shortcake for $1.75, a band playing all sorts of Americana, and a variety of rag-tag do-gooders petitioning for local causes. It's very old-timey and lovely.

A few weeks ago when we were discussing the upcoming neighborhood Strawberry Festival, the Man mentioned that his church used to have a Strawberry Festival. He mused, "why is that a thing? Is it a traditional time when the strawberries were harvested? Did people need to eat them quickly prior to refrigeration?" I decided to try to find out. 

Indeed, there are strawberry festivals all over North America, According to some corners of the interweb , the first one was held in 1850. Typically held at churches as fundraisers, the strawberry festival went dormant in the wake of the Civil War as other crops became more lucrative. The tradition was revived in the 1920s when strawberries began to be planted more. These festivals often had quite a carnival atmosphere, some offering rides.

Florida Strawberry Festival  

Ours is a meager festival in comparison to some of these other examples but, as previously mentioned, we can walk to it, eat strawberry shortcake and the kids get to rock out in a bouncy house.

Additionally, our neighborhood is very mixed religiously and, because we live in an eruv, is home to a large population of Orthodox Jews. I love our mix of neighbors, and I was happy to see some of my religious neighbors I had not seen in a while (this being Western New York, it takes a while for nice weather to allow us to be out and about). This year was the first time I realized that the shortcake was bought from a local kosher bakery and therefore everyone was able to partake in the fun. It is also held on Sunday, presumably for that reason as well.

But, in my (admittedly) limited research, I found out more about the so-called Strawberry Festival. Some Native American tribes named the full moons after the crops that were ready to be harvested in the following month, hence the Strawberry Moon (this year on June 2nd). Additionally, many Native American tribes celebrated the strawberry as the first fruit of the year. A thanksgiving ceremony was held, a Strawberry Festival that preceded those from church bazaars or rotary clubs and continues in tribal communities today. 

Annual Kanatsiohareke Mohawk community Strawberry Festival. (Photo courtesy of www.mohawkcommunity.com)

For all of us, a deliciously ripe strawberry signifies the true start of summer. And it is one of my absolute favorite fruits. Alone, with yogurt, or in a paper bowl accompanying fluffy shortcake and whipped cream and shared with my neighbors.

Do you attend an annual strawberry festival? How do you like your strawberries? Share your recipes here!

Barat Night

Shab-e-Barat/ Laylatun Nisfe min Sha’ban/ Laylat al Bara'at/ Berat Kandili

View image | gettyimages.com

This Muslim holiday known by many names begins this evening (June 2nd, 2015). The holiday falls on the 15th of Sha’ban (the eighth month in the Islamic calendar) and is seen by many as a lead up to the holy month of Ramadan. 

It is known by many names and, subsequently, has several meanings. Shab-e-Barat is the South Asian name meaning Night of Records, but it is also known as The Night of Forgiveness/Deliverance/Emancipation, The Night of Atonement, and The Night of Innocence. While not an observance dictated in the Qur’an, the holiday is derived from several hadiths. According to tradition, this is the night when Allah decides the destiny of all for the year to come. The gates of Mercy are opened and those who will be born and those who will die are determined. Sunnis observe this day also as a commemoration of the Prophet Muhammad’s entry to Mecca. Muslims stay up all night praying and repenting. Some fast, but many feast as well. Many also take this day as a time to visit the graves of ancestors and send gifts of food to neighbors and relatives. Some Muslim communities observe the holiday as a festival of lights, burning candles, setting off fireworks and featuring string lights. The holiday therefore has the same blend of austerity, piety and joy that marks Ramadan. 

View image | gettyimages.com

As for most Islamic holidays, culinary practices vary regionally. In Southeast Asia, favorite treats are roti and halwa. Some bakeries bake breads into elaborate shapes and designs.

For non-Muslims, there are similarities in practice to All Hallow’s Eve/All Souls day (with the distributing of soul cakes), Shavuot (with the all-night prayer session), and Yom Kippur (as a Day of Atonement). 

(It should be noted that this holiday is not celebrated by all Muslims, mainly because it is not Qur’anic. Additionally, there is controversy in the manner of observance as some practitioners frown upon the festive atmosphere of what they see as a day of austerity and prayer.)

For those who do observe with gastronomic abandon, The Daily Star (a Bangladeshi paper) offers up some delicious-looking treats (sweet and savory) for tonight’s festival. While I have never been a huge halwa fan, these variations might be enough to make a convert out of me.

In the meantime, give me some of Salina Parvin’s boti kebab:

Pan fried boti kebab 
½ kg beef chunk 
1 tbsp ginger paste
½ tsp garlic paste
½ tbsp vinegar
5 green chilli paste
5-6 crushed black paper
½ tsp kebab masala
1 tbsp ghee

Method:
Slice the meat chunks into thick pieces. Now boil the meat with little water, ginger-garlic paste, green chilli paste, salt and vinegar until the water dries out. Don't boil it too much as the meat is too tender. Heat 1 tbsp ghee in a pan, fry the boiled meat until charred. Sprinkle the crushed black paper and serve hot.

In Today's Interfaith-y News

Over on her blog, On Being Both, Susan Katz Miller reflects on the latest Pew Survey on America's Changing Religious Landscape

“But first, let’s look at the important data on interfaith families in the new report. The researchers write that “people who have gotten married since 2000 are about twice as likely to be in religious intermarriages as are people who got married before 1960.” They found 28 percent of Americans living in an interfaith marriage or partnership (when we consider Protestants as one religion). That rises to 33 percent if we consider evangelical Protestants, mainline Protestants, and historically black Protestant denominations, as separate religious groups.”

Here's the breakdown from the study:

Memorial Day and Yizkor

Yizkor, the Jewish prayer memorializing the dead, is recited in synagogues four times a year. One of those times is on the second day of Shavuot which, this year, fell on Memorial Day. 

My father, who passed away several years ago, was a career military man. It was always important to him that this day was marked by more than those black lines left by the grill on our hamburgers. When we were young, he would bring us to Memorial Day ceremonies. After he retired, he would distribute poppies with the Jewish War Veterans in exchange for donations on Memorial Day and Veterans Day.

My current life is pretty removed from my Air Force brat upbringing, but Memorial Day and Veterans Day always remind me of my dad and the love he had for his fellow soldiers. And so the accidental coinciding of Memorial Day and the recitation of Yizkor is pretty meaningful to me. Apparently other Jewish groups are reflecting upon this coincidence as well:

Over at the Forward, Remembering Fallen Jewish Soldiers as Memorial Day and Yizkor Coincide

On Ritualwell, Yizkor on Memorial Day

More Shavuot/Pentecost reading

Media outlets attempt to explain these holidays that go unnoticed outside of church and synagogue:

Pentecost is this Sunday. What the Heck is Pentecost? From PBS.org

Field Study: Why Shavuot is all but ignored across America From Tablet

According to Marissa Brostoff's piece in Tablet: 

“The holidays that have done really well here are either firmly grounded in the home or allow for a kind of interplay between the synagogue and the home,” says Jenna Weissman Joselit, who teaches American Jewish history at George Washington University. Home-based holidays have strong elements of material and ritual—seders for Passover, sukkahs for Sukkot, menorahs for Hanukkah. But on Shavuot, “there’s no stuff and nothing to do, if you don’t go to shul. ”

But what about the cheesecake??

Culinary Conversion!

Beyond Cheesecake and Blintzes: A Shavuot Recipe With Meaning                               (From Tablet Magazine)         

Now this is what I'm talking about! A way to bridge your (or your partner's) cultural/culinary heritage with the holiday at hand. This essay is by a Jew-by-Choice. A common problem for those who throw their lot in with "the Tribe" is that you can't convert to having had a Jewish grandmother, with all the gastronomic nostalgia that conveys. But you CAN honor your Sicilian grandmother with a tweaking of her recipes.

Over on Tablet, The author offers a Baked Sea Bass with Artichokes, Mozzarella, and Old Bay Seasoning:

"Although unusual for Shavuot, the dish matches the holiday’s use of dairy and symbolic white food. Beyond that, with the Old Bay, I like to think it represents the ingenuity of Jewish migrants remaking their lives in new places, reminiscent of the ingenuity and perseverance of the Jews who escaped Egypt. And more personally, the recipe marries my past with my present, my Italian heritage with my Jewish one—on a holiday celebrating commitment, values, and community—a community that embraces Jews by choice and what each of us brings to the table."

This piece by Marcia Friedman (author of Meatballs and Matzah Balls: Recipes and Reflections from a Jewish and Italian Life) is particularly meaningful as the text read on Shavuot is that of Ruth, that most famous Moabite who joins the Israelites due to her love for Naomi, her mother-in-law.

A tart (or pie) to rival cheesecake

The New York Times offers up a ricotta tart that sounds like it might be a good option for Shavuot:  

http://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/1017401-ricotta-tart-with-lemon-poppy-crust

Also, It occurs to me that the traditional Italian Easter favorite, ricotta pie could be something to do on this holiday too! My very best friend's mother, from South Philly, used to make this pie. And her daughter (raised Catholic and married to a Jew) made it for Passover this year, substituting potato starch for the corn starch. For Shavuot, you can have the real deal!

Anna Gentile's Ricotta Pie

16 oz cream cheese

4 oz ricotta cheese

1 cup milk

4 eggs

1/2 cup sugar

1 tsp vanilla extract (I used one pod, scraped)

2 Tbsps corn starch

Place all ingredients in the blender, blend until smooth (2 min). Pour into greased 7 x 11 Pyrex or two graham cracker crusts. Bake at 325 F, 45 min - 1 hour. Cool in oven for about 1 hour. Top with cinnamon or fruit.  

On Shavuot, Spring and Cheesecake

Shavuot (The Feast of Weeks) gets short shrift in many non-Orthodox Jewish homes in America. In Reform congregations, it is usually the day when 10th graders have their Confirmation ceremony. Confirmation, you might ask? Sounds pretty Christian. In fact, dear readers, you are correct! The early European Reform movement introduced the Confirmation tradition in the early 19th century, believing that while the age of thirteen (for boys) and twelve (for girls) is traditionally the time when Jewish children become responsible for their religious lives, a few years more could really help with both the emotional and spiritual maturity needed for such a commitment. In fact, early Reformers did away with the traditional bar mitzvah ceremony altogether, preferring the more egalitarian and communal service over the individual celebration of Jewish boys becoming men.

But Jewish kids in white robes aside, what is Shavuot? Like most Jewish holidays it has both an agricultural and biblical significance. The former celebrates the early summer grain harvest and the bringing of the first fruits to the Temple (Shavuot is also called Hag ha Bikkurim, the Festival of the First Fruits).  And the latter? It’s actually religiously a pretty big deal. It commemorates the giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai (seven weeks after Passover). Seems important, no? Indeed, and it is one of the three pilgrimage festivals in Ancient Israel (including Sukkot and Passover). The festival is inextricably linked to Passover, as the Exodus from Egypt makes the Jewish people a nation and the receiving of the Law institutes the religious principles they should follow.

Shavuot is also a holiday that has a direct Christian counterpart. Unlike Hanukkah (which has both benefited and suffered from its arbitrary proximity to Christmas) or Passover (which has a direct, yet troubled, relationship with Easter), Shavuot has an equivalent in the Christian holiday of Pentecost. In fact, Shavuot is often referred to as Pentecost (Greek for “fifty” as in fifty days after the first seder). The Christian meaning and observance of this holiday is different, commemorating a moment described in Acts (2:1-31) when the Holy Spirit descended upon a group of Jesus’ followers (on Shavuot).

But somehow, unless you are Orthodox (or Israeli), the holiday has gone relatively unobserved for many American Jews. There are notable exceptions of course, but ask many Jewish college students today (as I have) what the holiday is about and you’ll get a bunch of blank stares. I, for one, blame Hebrew School. It’s not really Hebrew School’s fault, it’s just an accident of the calendar year. Shavuot often falls in late May or early June, usually around (or after) the last day of the Hebrew School year. Unlike other holidays which have plenty of time to be studied, Shavuot is either an afterthought or omitted from the program altogether (see the unfortunate summer scheduling of Tisha B’Av as another casualty of the Hebrew School year). My kids end religious school a full week before Shavuot this year.

The other reason that Shavuot may go unobserved is that unlike most Jewish holidays, the primary observance is in the synagogue. Practices include decorating the synagogue with greenery and flowers. The Book of Ruth is read, and some participate in an all-night Torah study session (Tikkun Leil Shavuot).

Unlike other more popularly observed holidays that have an important domestic component (the Passover seder, Hanukkah candle-lighting, the Rosh HaShanah meals), Shavuot—as observed in the diaspora—is a synagogue holiday. And, the majority of American Jews are unaffiliated. So, without a synagogue, or without the prompting of your elementary-school age child, the holiday goes unobserved.

That stops now. Why? Because Shavuot is the holiday when you are supposed to eat cheesecake! There are a variety of reasons why many Jewish communities embraced the consumption of dairy on Shavuot. Again, some are agricultural, some biblical and some mystical. In Song of Songs, the Torah is said to be “Like honey and milk, it lies under your tongue” and the Land of Israel as described as a land flowing with milk and honey. This “cheesecake holiday” was a revelation to me when I was visiting my family in Israel twenty years ago. Unlike in the United States, secular Jews in Israel have a cultural way of celebrating Shavuot. Much like Memorial Day has become an unofficial way of ushering in the summer by grilling out with friends, Shavuot—for those not engaged in all-night Torah study—an excuse to get together with family and friends and feast on dairy dishes such as cheesecake or blintzes. Cheese-filled kreplach or bourekas are also consumed.

So this year, Shavuot actually falls over Memorial Day weekend. The Culinary Converter and her family will likely be observing both a grill-fest in her backyard, as well as a dairy fiesta (probably not at the same time).

Shavuot Menu 2015:

Chilled Yogurt Soup

Pierogies w/sour cream

Big salad

Yogurt Cake

Chilled Yogurt Soup from Afarsimon

This is a recipe that I have been attempting to perfect only from memory. A few years ago, I managed to recreate a soup I had frequently at a Persian dairy restaurant in Tel Aviv. Alas, I don’t remember exactly what I did. The place, Afarsimon (translated as persimmon), was a daily morning hangout for my grandfather and his friends. They would sit and drink coffee, gossip and kvetch about politics. When I was little, I would go for the strawberry milkshakes. When I grew older, I would go for this garlicky yogurt soup. It’s been at least twenty years since I ate at Afarsimon, so my memory could be deceiving me. The restaurant, like my grandfather, is long gone. I can’t remember if there was toasted cumin in it or not, but I do believe it was served with a drizzle of olive oil and a sprinkle of paprika on top.

Anyway, I am going to try it this way and I’ll report back after the chag!

1 large English cucumber, or 5 persian cukes

2 cups plain yogurt. Greek is probably best, but you should use one with fat

2 crushed garlic cloves

juice of half a lemon

a few sprigs of mint, minced (another option is dill, but The Man is not a fan)

salt to taste

olive oil and paprika for garnish      

Peel the cucumber and grate. Salt and leave in a colander for a bit, allowing to drain.

Beat the yogurt with the garlic, lemon juice and the mint. Add the cucumber and mix well. Taste and add salt as preferred. If it’s too thick add a wee bit of water.

I can’t imagine this can’t be done in a blender, but I haven’t done it that way. Perhaps this is the year (now that the Vitamix has entered our lives, I am always looking for stuff to do in it).

Drizzle with olive oil and a sprinkle of paprika.

Turkish Yogurt Cake [adapted from Claudia Roden’s Arabesque: A Taste of Morocco, Turkey, & Lebanon (Knopf, 2008)]

4 large eggs, separated

½ cup superfine sugar

3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

1 2/3 cups strained Greek-style yogurt

grated zest of 1 unwaxed lemon

juice of 1 lemon 

Optional syrup

2/3 cup water

1 ¼ cups sugar

1 tablespoon lemon juice

grated zest of 1 unwaxed orange

Beat the yolks with the sugar until it is a thick and pale yellow cream. Beat in flour, yogurt, the lemon zest and juice until well blended.

Whisk the egg whites until stiff and carefully fold into the above mixture. Pour into a round (preferably non-stick) 9 inch baking tin greased with butter. Bake at 350° for 50 to 60 minutes until brown. It will puff up and then fall (don’t be alarmed).

Turn out onto serving plate (or if you use a tin w/removable bottom, release) and serve warm or cold.

If making the syrup, boil water, sugar, lemon juice and orange zest for 3-5 minutes. Cool and chill in refrigerator.

 serves 6

So, are you making/eating dairy for Shavuot?

(Also, you can drink dairy as well! See the Ramos Gin Fizz!)

Ramos Gin Fizz

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Passover Planning (For Real)

So things are starting to amp up in the Culinary Converter's household today. I had a total anxiety dream about Passover on Wednesday night and realized that the only way to begin to alleviate this particular neurosis was to start making a list. Happily, Joan Nathan (culinary superstar of all Jewish festivals) provided such a

list

in the New York Times (print guide to all things Jewish). She gives this advice: "My seder survival tactics boil down to a few basics. Make a list. Follow it. Always accept help when offered. And remember to create your own family traditions." I began to adapt the guide to suit my needs and now feel like I have conned myself into thinking this is all do-able.

Now, this is not my first Seder. The Man and I began hosting the family seder in our home twelve years ago, well before marriage and children. For years there were no kids and my younger sister had to play the part of the youngest child well into her late twenties. She is getting married in a few weeks and due to physical distances coupled with wedding planning, she will be spending Passover with my mother in a state South of here. So, this is the first year our seder has no family outside of the nuclear unit. I thought, ok, well we'll just do something small with a few friends. The head count is now up to twenty-three people, including ten kids! Clearly, the table is not big enough.

So the seder, the pre-game show before dinner, will be held in the living room (on couches and chairs and pillows), which gives the whole thing more of a cocktail party feel. And given the four glasses of wine consumed at the seder, this vibe is appropriate. I plan to also amp up the appetizers, which will lessen the anxiety about when the meal will begin. There is no need to restrict yourself to just the foods on

the seder plate

, you can serve anything that is kosher for Passover, crudites with eggplant spread, etc...

My Menu so far:

Salmon Cakes with Horseradish and Cucumber Sauce

Soup w/Matzoh Balls, Chicken and Vegetarian

an intermezzo of grapefruit sorbet and cava

Some roast lamb dish

Soy Ginger Chicken in the Slow Cooker

Perhaps a vegetarian crustless quiche?

Other veggie sides will be arriving courtesy of my guests

Dessert:

Matzoh Baklava

and an Orange/Mint/Date salad

There is more to come on all this, but my question for you, gentle readers (besides what you're making): what are good plan b dishes for kids who may look askance at these offerings?