When I think of holidays and special occasions, I think of foods. And in my family there were usually a specific list of foods that accompany each event:
Christmas = our Christmas "party" menu of crab dip, sausage-cheese balls, shrimp cocktail, sweet pickles and cheddar cheese, ruffle potato chips ... and of course a whole host of sweets: pecan and coconut-cream pies, sugar cookies (made and decorated by my sister), fudge ...
Thanksgiving = Turkey (natch, even though I've never been a fan) and gravy, cornbread stuffing, lettuce and egg salad, some sort of sweet potato dish I never ate ... and of course a host of sweets: pumpkin and pecan pies ...
Sunday dinners = ham and mashed potatoes; or roast beef and Yorkshire pudding; Country Style Steak, mashed potatoes and peas ...
But then I moved to New York and met a nice Jewish Boy. When I was invited to my first holiday dinner at his parents' house, it was my instinct to cook something, to offer to bring dessert. But being Southern and Protestant(ish) from Mechanicsville, Va, I didn't know from Jewish foods. Even bagels were a rarity growing up, and my favorites then were the very goyishe cinnamon and raisin bagels. Sometimes even smeared with the even more goyishe strawberry cream cheese.
It was that first holiday dinner, Passover no less, with it's prohibitions against eating all things leavened, that really got me diving into Jewish food. And through food, I found my way in. In to Adam's family, and into religious observance.
I have at least 10 Jewish cookbooks, as well as a a box full of newspaper and magazine articles, and a long list of online resources I can turn to if I'm having trouble finding a recipe for something specific. Most of my cookbooks, like many ethnic cookbooks, contain so much more than just recipes. There is of course information in each about the kosher dietary laws (which I do not observe, but of which I try to at least be mindful during the holidays), but there are also often warm stories about how each recipe came to be and the roll it played in the holiday celebrations of another family from another place or time.
I have Ashkenazi and Sephardic cookbooks. I have a cookbook that details the history and culture of the Romaniote Jews of Greece. I have synagogue cookbooks, collections of the "best" recipes from the members of specific congregations. I have a cookbook filled with recipes and activities to do with kids. And I have one with 1001 matzo recipes you will never use because, really, who needs to try and shape empanadas or baklava out of soggy matzo.
It has been 12 years since that first Passover Seder -- to which I took one delicious, flourless chocolate cream torte, the recipe for which my mother cut out of the Richmond Times Dispatch -- and seven since I converted. It has been both fascinating and fun creating my own special holiday menus. Free from those emotional ties of "that's what Mom always made," and not feeling the need to choose from one cultural background over another, my Jewish holiday fair spans the globe.
There are still many holidays to which I am mostly a guest at someone else's dinner. To those I always offer to bring dessert or home made challah, which I must say is always much better than any I've ever tasted from a bakery. And for some holidays, like Sukkot, my menus follow a basic theme, but change in content every year. I happily spend hours pouring over the pages of my cookbooks, researching the symbolism behind the different foods, and trying to tie together a cohesive menu from a variety of sources. My standards include:
Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur = Hazelnut Honey Cake and a round challah
Hanukkah = Ijeh, Fried meat patties with spicy ketchup, from a 1998 article in the NY Times Magazine; lentils and rice, latkes, both plain and sweet potato-curry with applesauce and sour cream (why choose?), and, most importantly, sufganiyot or jelly doughnuts
Passover = matzo ball soup from scratch -- both the soup and matzo balls -- a world tour of charoset recipes, and some sort of flourless chocolate cake.
There are about 16 holidays on the Jewish Calendar, and each one comes with its own customs and observances -- and, of course, another opportunity to research, learn, cook, eat and celebrate or remember. And now that the kids are getting older, I'm looking forward to expanding our holiday observances to include things like a meal for Tu B'shvat made entirely of fruits from the trees; baskets of wine, candy and Hamentaschen to be delivered to friends during Purim; and blintzes and other dairy-laden foods for Shavuot.
I'm looking forward to the day when the year flows smoothly from one holiday to the next, one culinary delight to the next. Just as I'm putting the last morsel of Ijeh in my mouth or taking the last bite of my last jelly doughnut and am thinking, "I can't believe we only eat this once a year ..." It will be time to start planning the carob brownies for Tu B'shvat, then the matzo balls ...
It's hard not to love a religion that loves its food.
When I think of holidays and special occasions, I think of foods. And in my family there were usually a specific list of foods that accompany each event:
Christmas = our Christmas "party" menu of crab dip, sausage-cheese balls, shrimp cocktail, sweet pickles and cheddar cheese, ruffle potato chips ... and of course a whole host of sweets: pecan and coconut-cream pies, sugar cookies (made and decorated by my sister), fudge ...
Thanksgiving = Turkey (natch, even though I've never been a fan) and gravy, cornbread stuffing, lettuce and egg salad, some sort of sweet potato dish I never ate ... and of course a host of sweets: pumpkin and pecan pies ...
Sunday dinners = ham and mashed potatoes; or roast beef and Yorkshire pudding; Country Style Steak, mashed potatoes and peas ...
But then I moved to New York and met a nice Jewish Boy. When I was invited to my first holiday dinner at his parents' house, it was my instinct to cook something, to offer to bring dessert. But being Southern and Protestant(ish) from Mechanicsville, Va, I didn't know from Jewish foods. Even bagels were a rarity growing up, and my favorites then were the very goyishe cinnamon and raisin bagels. Sometimes even smeared with the even more goyishe strawberry cream cheese.
It was that first holiday dinner, Passover no less, with it's prohibitions against eating all things leavened, that really got me diving into Jewish food. And through food, I found my way in. In to Adam's family, and into religious observance.
I have at least 10 Jewish cookbooks, as well as a a box full of newspaper and magazine articles, and a long list of online resources I can turn to if I'm having trouble finding a recipe for something specific. Most of my cookbooks, like many ethnic cookbooks, contain so much more than just recipes. There is of course information in each about the kosher dietary laws (which I do not observe, but of which I try to at least be mindful during the holidays), but there are also often warm stories about how each recipe came to be and the roll it played in the holiday celebrations of another family from another place or time.
I have Ashkenazi and Sephardic cookbooks. I have a cookbook that details the history and culture of the Romaniote Jews of Greece. I have synagogue cookbooks, collections of the "best" recipes from the members of specific congregations. I have a cookbook filled with recipes and activities to do with kids. And I have one with 1001 matzo recipes you will never use because, really, who needs to try and shape empanadas or baklava out of soggy matzo.
It has been 12 years since that first Passover Seder -- to which I took one delicious, flourless chocolate cream torte, the recipe for which my mother cut out of the Richmond Times Dispatch -- and seven since I converted. It has been both fascinating and fun creating my own special holiday menus. Free from those emotional ties of "that's what Mom always made," and not feeling the need to choose from one cultural background over another, my Jewish holiday fair spans the globe.
There are still many holidays to which I am mostly a guest at someone else's dinner. To those I always offer to bring dessert or home made challah, which I must say is always much better than any I've ever tasted from a bakery. And for some holidays, like Sukkot, my menus follow a basic theme, but change in content every year. I happily spend hours pouring over the pages of my cookbooks, researching the symbolism behind the different foods, and trying to tie together a cohesive menu from a variety of sources. My standards include:
Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur = Hazelnut Honey Cake and a round challah
Hanukkah = Ijeh, Fried meat patties with spicy ketchup, from a 1998 article in the NY Times Magazine; lentils and rice, latkes, both plain and sweet potato-curry with applesauce and sour cream (why choose?), and, most importantly, sufganiyot or jelly doughnuts
Passover = matzo ball soup from scratch -- both the soup and matzo balls -- a world tour of charoset recipes, and some sort of flourless chocolate cake.
There are about 16 holidays on the Jewish Calendar, and each one comes with its own customs and observances -- and, of course, another opportunity to research, learn, cook, eat and celebrate or remember. And now that the kids are getting older, I'm looking forward to expanding our holiday observances to include things like a meal for Tu B'shvat made entirely of fruits from the trees; baskets of wine, candy and Hamentaschen to be delivered to friends during Purim; and blintzes and other dairy-laden foods for Shavuot.
I'm looking forward to the day when the year flows smoothly from one holiday to the next, one culinary delight to the next. Just as I'm putting the last morsel of Ijeh in my mouth or taking the last bite of my last jelly doughnut and am thinking, "I can't believe we only eat this once a year ..." It will be time to start planning the carob brownies for Tu B'shvat, then the matzo balls ...
It's hard not to love a religion that loves its food.