Tiramisu translates to “pick me up.” And this popular Italian dessert sure lifts our mood! Here, we altered the classic by using matzah in place of traditional ladyfingers. The matzah soaks up the cream, chocolate, and rum with mouthwatering results.
When I think of knishes, like most people, I think of New York Jewish deli-style discs of creamy potato or savory meat, enveloped by a flaky crust. Potato knishes are my favorite, because they act as a vehicle for as much good, grainy mustard as I see fit.
photo from @average.jen on Instagram.
In true Purim fashion, hamantaschen this year are out of control. They’re masquerading as tacos, pizza, ice cream sandwiches, and rice crispy treats. Some are inspired by unicorns, while others dress up as candied apples.
For over 1,000 years, Jews have lived in the Middle East, cooking the kind of food that is catching on everywhere today — rice pilafs with fresh herbs and dried fruits, mostly vegetarian dishes accented with nuts and fruits, and slowly simmered soups and stews.
Three years ago, I set out after work every night of the week before Purim to find the best hamantaschen in New York City. I tasted my way through the Upper East and West Sides, all the way to the Lower East Side, Williamsburg, and Midwood, Brooklyn, and I never once got sick of these delicious, poppyseed-filled cookies (my favorite!). This year, there are some new contenders in town who bring innovative, new-school approaches to these three-sided treats.
I am a born- and-bred New Yorker who loves a good, classic bagel and schmear. It’s practically a requirement to live in the New York area. I have been working on my own recipe for some time (stay tuned!) and I am no stranger to the rainbow bagel and other crazy counterparts that have been trendy the past two years. In fact, I first spotted rainbow bagels nearly three years ago in Hoboken, NJ near my daughter’s former preschool. And since then, indeed, rainbow bagels have taken over.
I grew up going to Rein’s Deli outside of Hartford, Connecticut — almost exactly halfway between my home in Massachusetts and my grandmother’s house in New York. Stopping at Rein’s on a road trip was sometimes a treat but often a necessity for my parents (my sister, Jenny, and I were usually fighting loudly in the back seat). I remember liking the barrel of pickles, the endless menu, and the enormous, messy sandwiches at Rein’s. My dad always got the tongue sandwich with Swiss and I always got a kosher frank (no kraut). As I got older and my tastes evolved, I occasionally branched out to egg salad or a Reuben (or a Rachael, if I was feeling especially risqué).
Challah, soft and rich, brushed with egg wash, and woven into complex shapes or beautiful braids, is served in households around the world with Shabbat dinner. In many parts of the U.S. and Europe, challah appears more similar than different — golden, shiny, braided and perhaps dusted with poppy or sesame seeds. Sephardic loaves, on the other hand, take on different flavors, shapes and textures. How did Shabbat’s symbolic bread become the beloved rich and eggy braided loaf that’s baked and enjoyed by millions, worldwide?