WARNING! WARNING!! WARNING!!!
The following is a self indulgent wallowing in self pity and whining that I strongly recommend you skip.
You have been warned!
I find that it is too stressful to have deadlines. Having to finish the cooking by candle lighting on Fridays is stressful enough. Then there is Pesach (There is always Pesach. Preparations for Pesach started the minute you changed your kitchen back to everyday dishes last Pesach.) Not to mention little deadlines like lesson plans that need to be written, report cards that must tell parents what their kid is doing wrong without saying anything that is not high praise for the little terror and the everyday deadlines of the end of the school day, when you have to pick the kids up from school and end your peaceful enjoyment of visiting worthless websites online.
It's even more stressful when you sacrifice some of that precious me-time to make the deadline for a blog that is read by 3-4 people at most. I am eternally grateful to my 3-4 loyal readers (I say '3-4' though I only have evidence of 1) but this winter has got me so stressed that making the deadline for the distant possibility that someone will read this garbage is putting me over the top.
OK. It is now safe to return to the post. Self indulgent whining is over.
No connection to the above (Oh, please! Do not even pretend you didn't read it,) but I do find that trying to come up with something interesting every week is a bit tiring and most parashot barely provide easy insights for even one post (emphasis on "easy".) So, after much thought (it took at least 37 seconds) I have decided to go back to the original plan (That is, what I was doing when I started this blog) and simply post things not necessarily related to the weekly parasha. If a parasha will inspire a post, great; if not - there are other things to complain about. And it doesn't have to be every week, or once a week or anything. As I said, I have it on good authority that the number of people who actually read this blog on a regular basis is between 1 and 3 and all of them want me to be happy. So bear with me.
It occurred to me that I have somehow missed Tu BiShvat this year. Granted hubby was in Europe (visiting CERN!!!! Is he great or what?) and my little one had me running ragged while he was gone (2 concerts and a party), but this was not the poor holiday's fault. Luckily, one can rely on one's offspring to step in and take up the load. I mean, isn't that the reason one has kids to begin with? So there will be someone else to shovel snow, empty dishwashers, fold laundry and mow lawns? Otherwise, why have the little brats at all?
Here is a little gem that my oldest whipped up last Saturday night when I was too comfortable on the couch to get up and feed her. It is brilliant, if do say so myself.
Goat cheese stuffed dried figs with balsamic vinegar
Use succulent dry figs. Costco sells them in large bags (wait, this statement is redundant, isn't it?) I think they're called Calimyrna figs, but at any rate, they are sort of beige colored, very soft and pliable dried figs.
Take a fig and turn it upside down (stem down). You can see a small puckered opening. Enlarge it with your fingers just large enough that you can stuff a small amount of goat cheese inside (between a 1/4 and a 1/2 inch cube, depending on the size of the fig). Turn the fig back and put it on a plate. Make as many as you want and then drizzle them with the best balsamic vinegar you can afford to buy (hint, the thicker it is, the better the quality; and you can thicken it up if you gently heat it until it reduces a bit.) I was told it is actually easier to simply pour a small quantity of vinegar on the side of the plate and dip the stuffed figs in it.
That's it. Now, isn't this worth 36 hours of labor and 17 years of mothering? And you get it for free, you lucky dogs, you. Isn't this a great dish for Tu BiShvat?
I was also planning to complain bitterly about the weather but then I remembered just how much I hate summer and heat. Not that I will let it stop me from complaining about the cold, but I figured we have at least another 2 months in which I can do that. So there's no rush.
Thursday, January 30, 2014
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Slave owners of the wrold - unite!
I do not own slaves. Hubby and my kids may beg to differ (especially around Pesach time) but the truth is I could not even hang on to a cleaning lady when I was very pregnant and in desperate need of one. I just find it very uncomfortable to have people do for me what I am fully capable of doing myself and, even more, I cannot tolerate the idea that someone will see themselves as under my power. Which is weird for someone who revels in ordering people around.
This week's parasha starts with the issue of how to treat slaves and even when other laws intervene, there is usually an insert regarding the special case of slaves for each law. Slavery is very distasteful to us. Not just because we are modern people or because we live in the land of the free, but because we are Jews and we remember a time when we were slaves ourselves and how terrible that was.
For much of history, slavery was totally acceptable; which is why the Torah sees fit to deal with this instead of just saying "Don't own slaves." People were gonna own slaves anyway. It was the reality of those times and the Torah chose, wisely, to limit the harm instead of fighting a lost cause.
What's so bad about slavery? Let's say the master is sort of OK-ish so you don't really get beaten much, you have enough food to survive, you're allowed a wife and kids and your work is not too unbearable. How is that different from how most of the world lives even today? So what's the problem?
When you're a slave, you are not truly seen as a human. Because you lose the right to exercise free will. It's true that a poor person or a homeless person or an abused person have very few options, but they are (in a civilized society) allowed to chose what (if anything) to do about their situation. The tragedy of slavery is that you can no longer change your circumstances. At best, you might be able to somewhat improve them. When you are a slave, it doesn't matter how hard you work; it would not get you the freedom you want. It doesn't matter what your hopes and dreams are; you are never going to achieve them unless another person will feel like giving you the chance. And that person has the power to take it away if he so wishes. And if that person dies, you are at the mercy of his heirs. You are property, not a person.
But, we no longer own slaves, do we? True, there are places in the world where slavery is still alive and well, and we all hope that someone is doing something about it, but we, personally, do not own anyone. So we're good.
Are we? One does not need to physically own another human in order to enslave them. Every time we treat a person as less than human, we are enslaving them. My aunt Tziporah taught me this lesson. She took me out to lunch soon after my wedding and bought me a set of ceramic pots and bowls. We were sitting in Dizengoff Center (the very first mall in Israel) and after lunch, we went to the ladies' room (as all girls tend to do at every opportunity) and Aunt Tziporah turned to the attendant and said "Good morning, how are you today?" The poor, shabbily dressed, old-before-her-time woman was struck dumb by the fact that someone had acknowledged her existence. Some very well dressed lady (and aunt Tziporah was a super snappy dresser) had recognized her humanity. I never forgot this. I wish I could say I learned from it and became a nice person (note I did not say "nicer"; I do know myself,) but the sad truth is that I, too, ignore service people. I, too, am a "slave-owner."
My children agree. Every time I ask them to empty the dishwasher, they groan and moan and sigh. Do not even get me started on what happens before Pesach. Really, my slave-ownership knows no bounds.
To show just how mean I am, I baked the following for my slaves one cold, blustery afternoon, so that the house smelled of warm chocolate when they came in from school. Truly the sign of a cruel slave driver.
Chocolate chip loaf
2 cups flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/2 cup sugar
1 1/2 cup chocolate chips (look, if we're going to torture our slaves, let's do it right; one and a half cups it is)
2 eggs
1/4 cup milk (I used half and half because I am extra cruel. Also, I did not have milk.)
1/2 cup orange juice
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/3 cup melted butter (you can use oil, but why would you?)
Stir together flour, baking powder, salt, baking soda and sugar, Add 1 1/4 cup of the chocolate chips and stir again. Make a well in the center.
In a separate bowl beat eggs with milk, orange juice and vanilla; then blend in the butter.
Pour egg mixture into flour mixture and mix just until the dry ingredients are moistened.
Pour into an oiled and floured loaf pan (I used a regular sized one, which was a mistake. Use a larger one or make two. The pan should not be more than 2/3 of the way full). Sprinkle the remaining 1/4 cup of chocolate chips evenly on top of the batter.
Bake at 350F until golden brown, about 60 minutes. Cool in pan for 10 minutes, then turn out unto a wire rack to cool completely.
And the next time you interact with a human being, whether rich or poor, homeless or living in a castle, your employee or a service person, Jew or gentile, be careful not to turn him or her into your slave. The Torah allowed us to own slaves but would have preferred we skip the notion altogether. Free your slaves.
Not you, girls, the dishwasher still has to be emptied.
This week's parasha starts with the issue of how to treat slaves and even when other laws intervene, there is usually an insert regarding the special case of slaves for each law. Slavery is very distasteful to us. Not just because we are modern people or because we live in the land of the free, but because we are Jews and we remember a time when we were slaves ourselves and how terrible that was.
For much of history, slavery was totally acceptable; which is why the Torah sees fit to deal with this instead of just saying "Don't own slaves." People were gonna own slaves anyway. It was the reality of those times and the Torah chose, wisely, to limit the harm instead of fighting a lost cause.
What's so bad about slavery? Let's say the master is sort of OK-ish so you don't really get beaten much, you have enough food to survive, you're allowed a wife and kids and your work is not too unbearable. How is that different from how most of the world lives even today? So what's the problem?
When you're a slave, you are not truly seen as a human. Because you lose the right to exercise free will. It's true that a poor person or a homeless person or an abused person have very few options, but they are (in a civilized society) allowed to chose what (if anything) to do about their situation. The tragedy of slavery is that you can no longer change your circumstances. At best, you might be able to somewhat improve them. When you are a slave, it doesn't matter how hard you work; it would not get you the freedom you want. It doesn't matter what your hopes and dreams are; you are never going to achieve them unless another person will feel like giving you the chance. And that person has the power to take it away if he so wishes. And if that person dies, you are at the mercy of his heirs. You are property, not a person.
But, we no longer own slaves, do we? True, there are places in the world where slavery is still alive and well, and we all hope that someone is doing something about it, but we, personally, do not own anyone. So we're good.
Are we? One does not need to physically own another human in order to enslave them. Every time we treat a person as less than human, we are enslaving them. My aunt Tziporah taught me this lesson. She took me out to lunch soon after my wedding and bought me a set of ceramic pots and bowls. We were sitting in Dizengoff Center (the very first mall in Israel) and after lunch, we went to the ladies' room (as all girls tend to do at every opportunity) and Aunt Tziporah turned to the attendant and said "Good morning, how are you today?" The poor, shabbily dressed, old-before-her-time woman was struck dumb by the fact that someone had acknowledged her existence. Some very well dressed lady (and aunt Tziporah was a super snappy dresser) had recognized her humanity. I never forgot this. I wish I could say I learned from it and became a nice person (note I did not say "nicer"; I do know myself,) but the sad truth is that I, too, ignore service people. I, too, am a "slave-owner."
My children agree. Every time I ask them to empty the dishwasher, they groan and moan and sigh. Do not even get me started on what happens before Pesach. Really, my slave-ownership knows no bounds.
To show just how mean I am, I baked the following for my slaves one cold, blustery afternoon, so that the house smelled of warm chocolate when they came in from school. Truly the sign of a cruel slave driver.
Chocolate chip loaf
2 cups flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/2 cup sugar
1 1/2 cup chocolate chips (look, if we're going to torture our slaves, let's do it right; one and a half cups it is)
2 eggs
1/4 cup milk (I used half and half because I am extra cruel. Also, I did not have milk.)
1/2 cup orange juice
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/3 cup melted butter (you can use oil, but why would you?)
Stir together flour, baking powder, salt, baking soda and sugar, Add 1 1/4 cup of the chocolate chips and stir again. Make a well in the center.
In a separate bowl beat eggs with milk, orange juice and vanilla; then blend in the butter.
Pour egg mixture into flour mixture and mix just until the dry ingredients are moistened.
Pour into an oiled and floured loaf pan (I used a regular sized one, which was a mistake. Use a larger one or make two. The pan should not be more than 2/3 of the way full). Sprinkle the remaining 1/4 cup of chocolate chips evenly on top of the batter.
Bake at 350F until golden brown, about 60 minutes. Cool in pan for 10 minutes, then turn out unto a wire rack to cool completely.
And the next time you interact with a human being, whether rich or poor, homeless or living in a castle, your employee or a service person, Jew or gentile, be careful not to turn him or her into your slave. The Torah allowed us to own slaves but would have preferred we skip the notion altogether. Free your slaves.
Not you, girls, the dishwasher still has to be emptied.
Thursday, January 16, 2014
How about trying it this way?
Why not try it this way? said Yitro when he saw his son in law working himself to an early grave.
Later events (the next 3 books of the bible) proved that Yitro did not speak nearly as strongly as he should have. True, Moshe took his father in law's advice and created an impressively detailed judicial system, which made his daily life simpler and easier, but that took care of only one aspect of dealing with his people.
What Yitro should have said was "Run, my son. Run while you still can. These people will never be anything but a bunch of complainers who will make your life bitter and make you old before your time. Run."
Of course, Moshe, being Moshe, would not dream of abandoning his charges in the middle of the desert. First of all, he apparently loved them very much, as demonstrated by the many times he appealed to G-d on their behalf. Second, he was under direct orders from a much higher authority than Yitro. One does not abandon one's job when one has been given said job by G-d Himself. At least we should hope not. And third, luckily for all involved, he had no idea just how difficult the Israelites will prove to be. They gave him a few samples before: the incidents of the sea, the water (twice!) and the food. But he probably assumed these were legitimate complaints (of course people will be upset when there's no water or food, it's only natural) and they will behave as planned from now on. After all, they were headed for grand things, weren't they?
Oy, the naivete of the poor man. They sure set him straight in no time, didn't they? Yet he still loved them, took care of them, fought for them and, even in his last days, worried about their welfare. Well, he was Moshe, the one and only.
Still, I can't help wondering what would have happened if Yitro had added another "why not try it this way" to his original advice. Luckily he did not.
Sometimes it's not so good to try to do things differently. Sometimes it's a great idea. Like in the case of this week's parasha. And in the case of the following recipe, which I found online and which strikes me as genius. Thank you Ruthy Keinan for this recipe.
Ptitim with lentils
(Ptitim - is the Israeli name for what is called "Israeli couscous". It's a type of tiny pebbles of baked pasta that are very quick to cook and adapt itself to almost anything. You can use it as pasta or as you would use rice. You can find it in many stores. They are usually served alone as a side dish. Here they are combined with lentils for a vegetarian main course. And you can easily mix in some cooked meat or chicken and make it carnivore-friendly.)
1 Lb lentils, cooked in water for 20-30 minutes, until tender, then drained.
2 onions, chopped
2 Tbs vegetable oil
2 garlic cloves, minced
3 carrots, cubed (small cubes)
5 cups broth (vegetables or chicken)
1 Lb. Ptitim (Israeli couscous)
Salt and pepper to taste
1 Tbs spice mix (you can use any mixture of spices you want, for example: paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, cumin, coriander, curry. Mix small amounts of these together and then measure out 1 Tbs of the mixture. Or use one of those ready made mixtures for chicken or steak or meatballs or whatever.)
2 Tbs chopped fresh parsley
Saute onions in oil until slightly golden. Add garlic and cook 1 minute.
Add carrots and cook for a few minutes until slightly soft.
Add broth and bring to a boil.
Add cooked lentils and return to a boil.
Add ptitim, salt, pepper and spice mix. Return to a boil.
Cook, covered, over low heat, for 7 minutes.
Remove from heat, stir in parsley. Let stand 10 minutes before serving.
serves 6-8
Every once in a while, it's good to step back and get a different perspective on what we do. Sometimes it will make our lives more comfortable. Sometimes it will reinforce our faith in our own genius. Sometimes it will show us how to better follow the path we've been assigned.
Later events (the next 3 books of the bible) proved that Yitro did not speak nearly as strongly as he should have. True, Moshe took his father in law's advice and created an impressively detailed judicial system, which made his daily life simpler and easier, but that took care of only one aspect of dealing with his people.
What Yitro should have said was "Run, my son. Run while you still can. These people will never be anything but a bunch of complainers who will make your life bitter and make you old before your time. Run."
Of course, Moshe, being Moshe, would not dream of abandoning his charges in the middle of the desert. First of all, he apparently loved them very much, as demonstrated by the many times he appealed to G-d on their behalf. Second, he was under direct orders from a much higher authority than Yitro. One does not abandon one's job when one has been given said job by G-d Himself. At least we should hope not. And third, luckily for all involved, he had no idea just how difficult the Israelites will prove to be. They gave him a few samples before: the incidents of the sea, the water (twice!) and the food. But he probably assumed these were legitimate complaints (of course people will be upset when there's no water or food, it's only natural) and they will behave as planned from now on. After all, they were headed for grand things, weren't they?
Oy, the naivete of the poor man. They sure set him straight in no time, didn't they? Yet he still loved them, took care of them, fought for them and, even in his last days, worried about their welfare. Well, he was Moshe, the one and only.
Still, I can't help wondering what would have happened if Yitro had added another "why not try it this way" to his original advice. Luckily he did not.
Sometimes it's not so good to try to do things differently. Sometimes it's a great idea. Like in the case of this week's parasha. And in the case of the following recipe, which I found online and which strikes me as genius. Thank you Ruthy Keinan for this recipe.
Ptitim with lentils
(Ptitim - is the Israeli name for what is called "Israeli couscous". It's a type of tiny pebbles of baked pasta that are very quick to cook and adapt itself to almost anything. You can use it as pasta or as you would use rice. You can find it in many stores. They are usually served alone as a side dish. Here they are combined with lentils for a vegetarian main course. And you can easily mix in some cooked meat or chicken and make it carnivore-friendly.)
1 Lb lentils, cooked in water for 20-30 minutes, until tender, then drained.
2 onions, chopped
2 Tbs vegetable oil
2 garlic cloves, minced
3 carrots, cubed (small cubes)
5 cups broth (vegetables or chicken)
1 Lb. Ptitim (Israeli couscous)
Salt and pepper to taste
1 Tbs spice mix (you can use any mixture of spices you want, for example: paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, cumin, coriander, curry. Mix small amounts of these together and then measure out 1 Tbs of the mixture. Or use one of those ready made mixtures for chicken or steak or meatballs or whatever.)
2 Tbs chopped fresh parsley
Saute onions in oil until slightly golden. Add garlic and cook 1 minute.
Add carrots and cook for a few minutes until slightly soft.
Add broth and bring to a boil.
Add cooked lentils and return to a boil.
Add ptitim, salt, pepper and spice mix. Return to a boil.
Cook, covered, over low heat, for 7 minutes.
Remove from heat, stir in parsley. Let stand 10 minutes before serving.
serves 6-8
Every once in a while, it's good to step back and get a different perspective on what we do. Sometimes it will make our lives more comfortable. Sometimes it will reinforce our faith in our own genius. Sometimes it will show us how to better follow the path we've been assigned.
Thursday, January 9, 2014
Does it have to be so complicated?
Every time I teach the exodus, students have the same question. Every. Single. Time. Why didn't the Israelites travel north along the shore to the land of Israel? It's a fair question. Looking at the map, it is difficult to understand the logic behind choosing to travel through the desert. The shore road was closer, shorter, richer in water and food and easier to pass through. Except for the Philistines, of course.
Even today, if one will try to get from Egypt to Israel, one will be wise to risk the scorpions, thirst and heat exhaustion of the desert, rather than face the (modern-day) Philistines.
But, ask the students, did not the Israelites enjoy the protection of G-d? And were they not armed (Exodus, 13:18)? And, in any case, it's not as if the desert, in addition to all the other dangers and inconveniences it presented, was free of attacking marauders. See: "Amalek."
So why make things unnecessarily complicated?
Let's take this one by one. Yes, the Israelites were armed. How much good will that do to a bunch of former slaves who, in all probability were holding a sword for the first time in 400 years? They needed some practice first. Yes, the Amalekites were waiting in the desert. But, as mean as the Amalekites were, they were nothing but high way bandits with a hot temper and cowardly behavior, unlike the Philistines who would be fighting to protect their land and thus less likely to give up easily enough to not overwhelm the escaped slaves. And yes, they had G-d's protection, but they have not yet learned to trust in it. All of which will add up to them losing heart at the first hurdle and wishing to go back to Egypt, where everything was, if not good, at least familiar. And, if they take the sea highway, it would be very easy to go back, as it is a much more comfortable road.
And guess what? that's exactly what happened. At the very first sign of trouble, they immediately said "Let's go back to Egypt where we were safe." So what looks like an unnecessary complication, now makes perfect sense.
It's the same with the following recipe. It seems totally unnecessary to use whole spices only to grind them by hand. Why not use ground ones? Well, try it both ways and find out for yourself. Meanwhile, this is awesome. There's the pillar of fire (hot peppers) and the pillar of dust (that rises up from your mortar and pestle), and the long list of ingredients (like the large number of Israelites which made it even more complicated to travel anywhere) and the exotic spices to remember the route they took was probably part of the ancient spice road, not to mention the singing that will burst forth when you taste this.....
This is an original recipe from my kitchen. It has about a million ingredients and some are more confusing than others. You don't have to actually make it. You can just read it in awe.
Roasted root vegetables and chickpeas stew
4 cups turnips, cubed (1 inch)
1 1/2 cups parsnips, cubed (1/2 inch)
2 cups carrots, cubed (1/2 inch)
3 large garlic cloves, peeled and halved
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 tsp kosher salt
1 branch (1 foot long) of fresh tarragon, leaves stripped off (branch and leaves will be used), measure 1 tsp of leaves and set aside for later. (Or substitute the whole thing with 1-2 tsp dried rubbed sage)
6 Tbs vegetable oil
2 cups diced onions
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 tsp saved tarragon leaves (see above) or substitute 1/4 tsp dried rubbed sage
1 tsp whole coriander seeds + 1/2 tsp whole cumin seeds + 1/2 tsp red pepper flakes; these are to be crushed in a mortar and pestle to a coarse powder (about the size of kosher salt). Or just run them through a coffee grinder, and how come you don't have a mortar and pestle?
1 tsp ground coriander (yes, this recipe uses both whole and ground)
1 tsp turmeric
1/2 tsp powdered ginger
1/4 tsp each: mustard powder, black pepper, curry powder.
1 can (14 1/2 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
1 can (13 1/2 oz) coconut milk (do not use 'lite' unless it's an emergency)
1/3 cup water
2 cans, (15 oz each) chickpeas, rinsed and drained.
1-2 heaping tsp kosher salt (to taste)
Mix the first 7 ingredients (including the fresh tarragon's branch, if using fresh tarragon). Spread in one layer on a large baking sheet and roast at 425F for about 45 minutes, stirring occasionally, until veggies are soft and just starting to brown a bit. Remove tarragon branch and discard. Also discard any veggies that are too well roasted (i.e. black.)
Over medium high heat, cook onions in vegetable oil for 10-15 minutes until onions are soft and yellow (you might have to cover the pot during some of the time if the mixture starts to dry.)
Add garlic and reserved 1 tsp tarragon leaves (or the sage.) Cook, stirring, 2 minutes.
Add the spices you crushed by hand , stir and cook 1 minute.
Add the other spices, (ground coriander through curry powder.) Stir and cook 30 seconds.
Lower heat to medium-low, add tomatoes (with liquids), stir and cook for about 5 minutes, until the tomatoes soften and start to fall apart slightly.
Add coconut milk and water, bring to a gentle boil.
Add chickpeas, cover and cook over low-medium heat for 10 minutes.
Add roasted root vegetables (including the herbs and oil in the baking sheet. Scrape the sheet if necessary, to get all the yummy pieces from the bottom.)
Stir and cook, uncovered, for 5 minutes while watching the pot so it doesn't burn or dry out or be kidnapped by aliens.
Add salt to taste (You will need more salt than you think. Make sure to taste it before you declare it ready.)
Serve over rice. Makes 6-8 servings (I think. In my family it's hard to gauge these things correctly.)
Yes, sometimes things sound or look too complicated to be sensible. You read it and think "Oh, for crying out loud, is this absolutely necessary?"
Yes. Apparently it is. Unless you'd rather go back to Egypt?
Even today, if one will try to get from Egypt to Israel, one will be wise to risk the scorpions, thirst and heat exhaustion of the desert, rather than face the (modern-day) Philistines.
But, ask the students, did not the Israelites enjoy the protection of G-d? And were they not armed (Exodus, 13:18)? And, in any case, it's not as if the desert, in addition to all the other dangers and inconveniences it presented, was free of attacking marauders. See: "Amalek."
So why make things unnecessarily complicated?
Let's take this one by one. Yes, the Israelites were armed. How much good will that do to a bunch of former slaves who, in all probability were holding a sword for the first time in 400 years? They needed some practice first. Yes, the Amalekites were waiting in the desert. But, as mean as the Amalekites were, they were nothing but high way bandits with a hot temper and cowardly behavior, unlike the Philistines who would be fighting to protect their land and thus less likely to give up easily enough to not overwhelm the escaped slaves. And yes, they had G-d's protection, but they have not yet learned to trust in it. All of which will add up to them losing heart at the first hurdle and wishing to go back to Egypt, where everything was, if not good, at least familiar. And, if they take the sea highway, it would be very easy to go back, as it is a much more comfortable road.
And guess what? that's exactly what happened. At the very first sign of trouble, they immediately said "Let's go back to Egypt where we were safe." So what looks like an unnecessary complication, now makes perfect sense.
It's the same with the following recipe. It seems totally unnecessary to use whole spices only to grind them by hand. Why not use ground ones? Well, try it both ways and find out for yourself. Meanwhile, this is awesome. There's the pillar of fire (hot peppers) and the pillar of dust (that rises up from your mortar and pestle), and the long list of ingredients (like the large number of Israelites which made it even more complicated to travel anywhere) and the exotic spices to remember the route they took was probably part of the ancient spice road, not to mention the singing that will burst forth when you taste this.....
This is an original recipe from my kitchen. It has about a million ingredients and some are more confusing than others. You don't have to actually make it. You can just read it in awe.
Roasted root vegetables and chickpeas stew
4 cups turnips, cubed (1 inch)
1 1/2 cups parsnips, cubed (1/2 inch)
2 cups carrots, cubed (1/2 inch)
3 large garlic cloves, peeled and halved
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 tsp kosher salt
1 branch (1 foot long) of fresh tarragon, leaves stripped off (branch and leaves will be used), measure 1 tsp of leaves and set aside for later. (Or substitute the whole thing with 1-2 tsp dried rubbed sage)
6 Tbs vegetable oil
2 cups diced onions
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 tsp saved tarragon leaves (see above) or substitute 1/4 tsp dried rubbed sage
1 tsp whole coriander seeds + 1/2 tsp whole cumin seeds + 1/2 tsp red pepper flakes; these are to be crushed in a mortar and pestle to a coarse powder (about the size of kosher salt). Or just run them through a coffee grinder, and how come you don't have a mortar and pestle?
1 tsp ground coriander (yes, this recipe uses both whole and ground)
1 tsp turmeric
1/2 tsp powdered ginger
1/4 tsp each: mustard powder, black pepper, curry powder.
1 can (14 1/2 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
1 can (13 1/2 oz) coconut milk (do not use 'lite' unless it's an emergency)
1/3 cup water
2 cans, (15 oz each) chickpeas, rinsed and drained.
1-2 heaping tsp kosher salt (to taste)
Mix the first 7 ingredients (including the fresh tarragon's branch, if using fresh tarragon). Spread in one layer on a large baking sheet and roast at 425F for about 45 minutes, stirring occasionally, until veggies are soft and just starting to brown a bit. Remove tarragon branch and discard. Also discard any veggies that are too well roasted (i.e. black.)
Over medium high heat, cook onions in vegetable oil for 10-15 minutes until onions are soft and yellow (you might have to cover the pot during some of the time if the mixture starts to dry.)
Add garlic and reserved 1 tsp tarragon leaves (or the sage.) Cook, stirring, 2 minutes.
Add the spices you crushed by hand , stir and cook 1 minute.
Add the other spices, (ground coriander through curry powder.) Stir and cook 30 seconds.
Lower heat to medium-low, add tomatoes (with liquids), stir and cook for about 5 minutes, until the tomatoes soften and start to fall apart slightly.
Add coconut milk and water, bring to a gentle boil.
Add chickpeas, cover and cook over low-medium heat for 10 minutes.
Add roasted root vegetables (including the herbs and oil in the baking sheet. Scrape the sheet if necessary, to get all the yummy pieces from the bottom.)
Stir and cook, uncovered, for 5 minutes while watching the pot so it doesn't burn or dry out or be kidnapped by aliens.
Add salt to taste (You will need more salt than you think. Make sure to taste it before you declare it ready.)
Serve over rice. Makes 6-8 servings (I think. In my family it's hard to gauge these things correctly.)
Yes, sometimes things sound or look too complicated to be sensible. You read it and think "Oh, for crying out loud, is this absolutely necessary?"
Yes. Apparently it is. Unless you'd rather go back to Egypt?
Thursday, January 2, 2014
Personalized education
I love Pesach. And I love reading the Hagddah. And I like the idea of the four sons. Being a teacher, I find it very appealing that Judaism acknowledges the need to teach according to the student and not have a 'one size fits all' education. So what does the Hagaddah say? When your wicked son scoffs "What is this work for you?" you're supposed to answer "Thus did G-d do for me when I left Egypt" so as to emphasize that if he separates himself from everyone else, he will not be counted among the saved. Interesting approach.
Yet, this week, when you read the parasha, you will find out that the famous "Mah ha'avoda ha'zot lachem" is a question G-d anticipates will be asked and the answer He tells you to use is totally different than the one the Hagaddah suggests (Exodus 12:26-27.) And the question of the simple son ("What's that?") is presented as being asked about something that is not a part of the holiday itself. (Exodus 13:11-15.)
Now, I have no problem with either the Torah text or the Hagaddah text. I would just like to point out that apparently the sages who designed the Hagaddah used a bit of creative re-arrangement of the Torah text and we might want to remember that in a few months when we read the Hagaddah. It will expand and enhance our Seder, I'm sure. When you get to the four sons, open the chumash and read the original text. Debate that text directly from the source and then compare it to the Talmudic discussion in the Hagaddah and see where it leads. After all, the more we discuss the exodus, the better, no?
For a Jewish cook, it is second nature to re-arrange ingredients to better suit the kashrut laws. When you read a recipe, you immediately think about how you can make it kosher, or parve, or Pesach-compatible. Sometimes, though, you get lucky and the recipe does it for you. As you know, my other favorite holiday is Thanksgiving. When I first set out to celebrate it at home, I did extended research at the library (which shows you how long ago that was, since I did not use the internet.) I've put together a menu that, with small changes, I still use today. One of the dishes that appeared in practically every book, article or newspaper I read for the project was 'pearl onions in cream sauce'. Seeing that not only I couldn't use cream sauce with the turkey, I did not even know what pearl onions were, I was sure I had to give it up. That was very sad because it seemed to be a very common dish for the holiday.
A few (very few) years after my first Thanksgiving (no, kids, it was not the first Thanksgiving,) I read yet another article which offered a recipe for pearl onions that had no dairy in it at all. It was not a Jewish magazine or even a recipe for those keeping kosher. It wasn't even about 'lactose-intolerance'. It was simply offered as a "lighter" version of the original. I pounced on it. And I've been serving it on Thanksgiving every year since (and that's a lot of pearl onions.)
Since not having cream sauce with the turkey is not a unique experience in my house, I never had to explain why I make the "lighter" version. I won't bore you with the many (many, many) times I did have to explain why my kids must clean their rooms for Pesach even though "Dirt is not chametz, Imma." I finally aced that argument the year I found a fossilized half bagel in my older daughter's closet.
Pearl onions that are kosher, parve and fit for Pesach, too
1 bag of frozen pearl onions (16 oz), thawed in a colander, rinsed and drained well.
3 Tbs pine nuts, lightly toasted (you can substitute slivered almonds but it won't be as good)
2 Tbs margarine
3 Tbs dark brown sugar
3 Tbs red wine vinegar
1/2 tsp salt
Pinch of black pepper
1 Tbs finely chopped fresh parsley
Melt margarine in a wide saute pan over medium heat.
Add onions, increase heat to high. Cook, stirring frequently, until onions turn brown (5-7 minutes)
Lower heat to medium. Add sugar, vinegar, salt and pepper.Stir well.
Cook, stirring constantly for another 5 minutes or until the sauce thickens.
Remove from heat and stir in parsley.
Serve warm.
4-6 servings.
I am positive that, had our ancestors had these with their matzah and BBQ-ed lamb, they would have held off their complaints for a little while longer. Or maybe not. These people were born to complain and they took their destiny very seriously. Still do.
Yet, this week, when you read the parasha, you will find out that the famous "Mah ha'avoda ha'zot lachem" is a question G-d anticipates will be asked and the answer He tells you to use is totally different than the one the Hagaddah suggests (Exodus 12:26-27.) And the question of the simple son ("What's that?") is presented as being asked about something that is not a part of the holiday itself. (Exodus 13:11-15.)
Now, I have no problem with either the Torah text or the Hagaddah text. I would just like to point out that apparently the sages who designed the Hagaddah used a bit of creative re-arrangement of the Torah text and we might want to remember that in a few months when we read the Hagaddah. It will expand and enhance our Seder, I'm sure. When you get to the four sons, open the chumash and read the original text. Debate that text directly from the source and then compare it to the Talmudic discussion in the Hagaddah and see where it leads. After all, the more we discuss the exodus, the better, no?
For a Jewish cook, it is second nature to re-arrange ingredients to better suit the kashrut laws. When you read a recipe, you immediately think about how you can make it kosher, or parve, or Pesach-compatible. Sometimes, though, you get lucky and the recipe does it for you. As you know, my other favorite holiday is Thanksgiving. When I first set out to celebrate it at home, I did extended research at the library (which shows you how long ago that was, since I did not use the internet.) I've put together a menu that, with small changes, I still use today. One of the dishes that appeared in practically every book, article or newspaper I read for the project was 'pearl onions in cream sauce'. Seeing that not only I couldn't use cream sauce with the turkey, I did not even know what pearl onions were, I was sure I had to give it up. That was very sad because it seemed to be a very common dish for the holiday.
A few (very few) years after my first Thanksgiving (no, kids, it was not the first Thanksgiving,) I read yet another article which offered a recipe for pearl onions that had no dairy in it at all. It was not a Jewish magazine or even a recipe for those keeping kosher. It wasn't even about 'lactose-intolerance'. It was simply offered as a "lighter" version of the original. I pounced on it. And I've been serving it on Thanksgiving every year since (and that's a lot of pearl onions.)
Since not having cream sauce with the turkey is not a unique experience in my house, I never had to explain why I make the "lighter" version. I won't bore you with the many (many, many) times I did have to explain why my kids must clean their rooms for Pesach even though "Dirt is not chametz, Imma." I finally aced that argument the year I found a fossilized half bagel in my older daughter's closet.
Pearl onions that are kosher, parve and fit for Pesach, too
1 bag of frozen pearl onions (16 oz), thawed in a colander, rinsed and drained well.
3 Tbs pine nuts, lightly toasted (you can substitute slivered almonds but it won't be as good)
2 Tbs margarine
3 Tbs dark brown sugar
3 Tbs red wine vinegar
1/2 tsp salt
Pinch of black pepper
1 Tbs finely chopped fresh parsley
Melt margarine in a wide saute pan over medium heat.
Add onions, increase heat to high. Cook, stirring frequently, until onions turn brown (5-7 minutes)
Lower heat to medium. Add sugar, vinegar, salt and pepper.Stir well.
Cook, stirring constantly for another 5 minutes or until the sauce thickens.
Remove from heat and stir in parsley.
Serve warm.
4-6 servings.
I am positive that, had our ancestors had these with their matzah and BBQ-ed lamb, they would have held off their complaints for a little while longer. Or maybe not. These people were born to complain and they took their destiny very seriously. Still do.
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