Pan- Fried Trout

photo-2The family vacations we took with my parents were typically to parks in California.  Sequoia, Yosemite, Mammoth, Big Sur, Lake Tahoe.  They were simple vacations, all within driving distance.  There were eight of us, and we usually stayed in cabins inside the parks, ate in the park concessions, and spent our days hiking or going on ranger walks.

We just returned from a family trip to Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks, and though my parents are no longer alive, I thought of them often during this particular trip.  I knew how much my father would have enjoyed the wildlife, and I was sure that my excitement at seeing bison and bears would have paled in comparison to what his reaction might have been.  I thought of my mother and knew how much she would have loved being with us, to have had the opportunity to see her grandchildren all grown up,  and get to know her granddaughter-in-law.  I knew that they would have “kvelled” when their youngest grandson broke the family record of never having caught a fish, by catching a beautiful trout in Lake Yellowstone.  I was grateful for the memories I had of watching my mother prepare fish, so when I found myself suddenly faced with the task, I was able to stun, kill, gut, and scale the trout as my husband and kids looked on.  An hour later the trout was  presented to us on platters, graciously prepared by the chef at Lake Lodge.

We’ve been home for a week, but I am still thinking of our trip, and especially Yellowstone.  Instead of our typical Shabbat dinner, tonight we are having fish.  Trout, of course.

As one of the guides said to me, “Americans are always going somewhere else, but there is plenty of beauty in our own backyard.”  Amen and Happy 4th of July.  Shabbat Shalom.

Pan-Fried Trout 

The chef at Lake Lodge told me  she soaked the trout in milk for a few minutes, then lightly dredged it in flour, and seasoned to taste.  The only thing I changed is that I added some cornmeal to the flour mixture for extra crunch, and pan-fried the trout in my cast iron pan.

1  3-4 pound trout, boned and cut into fillets

1/2 cup milk

1/4 cup flour and equal amount of cornmeal

1/2 tsp salt and pepper to taste

1 tsp paprika

3 Tb butter

1 Tb olive oil

Soak trout in milk to cover for about 15 minutes. Drain and pat dry.  Combine flour and cornmeal and add seasonings.  Lightly dredge trout, then shake off excess coating.  Put butter in a cast iron pan along with olive oil.  Melt butter and place fillets in hot pan, skin side up, for about 5 minutes, depending on size.  Turn over and cook an extra five minutes, adding more butter if necessary.  Serve with lemon wedges, fresh corn and a cold beer.

Enjoy,

Irene

 

Sara’s Muesli

photo-2Last week my mother-in-law Lillian Saiger passed away and the family sat Shiva in Toronto.  This time I was not the mourner, but the supporter, and watching from that perspective allowed me to see the beauty and choreography of Shiva.  As I sat with my husband, sisters-in-law, and Uncle Dave, I observed the sadness, loss, and the intensity of their mourning, but there were other aspects to this rich tradition.  Friends and family arrived to share stories of my mother-in-law, some even walked in carrying photos, others talked about her recipes.  People showed  their respect by coming by to wish their condolences, but their kindness was also demonstrated as they quietly dropped off a plate of their favorite dishes for the family to share, small gifts meant to console and sweeten the bitterness that the family was experiencing.   Plates of home-made poppy-seed cookies, a loaf of banana bread, a noodle-cheese kugel, Quiche, home-made cupcakes and red velvet cookies.  People provided meals, even from a distance, a salve to help heal the wounds.

I listened to stories of my mother-in-law from people who knew her from various stages of life, and learned all kinds of things that I didn’t know.   She wore bikinis, as a young woman she smoked, she invited my father-in-law on a date soon after they first met.  A South African friend shared that my mother-in-law was her mentor, and told me that when she first moved to Toronto, my mother-in-law took her under her wing and encouraged her to play bridge so that she would meet new people.  I met someone who told me that just after her husband passed away, Lil insisted that she join her for Shabbat dinner.  I watched my children, nieces and nephews come together as part of this choreography, with such grace and beauty, each one finding their unique way to help and support each other and their parents.

Were there any great surprises, not really.  I found out that there was an explanation for why my mother-in-law’s fricassee recipe looked darker and richer than my version. I was missing an ingredient.  During Shiva Lil’s niece Carol told me that when Lil gave her the recipe, she said to add a little grape jelly, grape juice, or even some Manishewitz.  I was so taken aback, how was it that I never knew this, but Carol reassured me that it wasn’t that Lil had intentionally left out an ingredient, but rather that the recipe changed over the years, a work in progress.

On the last morning the Cappe girls provided breakfast, the last meal before the mourners “got up” for the customary walk.  It was the final dance, and after the davening we sat down to a meal that Lil would have approved of, and enjoyed.

Sara’s Muesli

4 cups rolled oats
1 cup unsweetened coconut
1 cup toasted almonds (chopped or I used almond slivers)
1 cup of seeds (I used sunflower or pumpkin)
1/4 cup chia seeds (optional)
1.5 cups dried fruit (I used raisins and craisins)
1 cup light coconut milk
3 cups milk (I used almond milk)
1 tsp vanilla
4 tbsp maple syrup
Cinnamon (to taste)
1 package frozen blueberries

Toast the oats and coconut on unlined baking sheets at 325 for 5-7 min (take out before the coconut burns)
Toast the almonds on the stove until browned.
Combine all the ingredients in a large bowl and stir. Leave overnight and it’s ready to eat the next morning. Serve with yogurt, berries, more nuts or dried fruits. Sometimes in the morning I add in a bit more milk if it’s mostly absorbed.  NOTE: Enough for a crowd and as is customary to say in Toronto, auf simchas.

Enjoy!

Irene

Cottage Cheese Chremslach (Passover)

IMG_0377We use to have really good home-cooked breakfasts when our children were little.  Norm would spend every Sunday morning in the kitchen, trying to please everyone by preparing pancakes, eggs, hash browns, and French Toast.  Despite the complaints, especially if the yolk of the fried egg broke, we knew how much the children enjoyed not only the variety, but the feeling of being in the kitchen, eating as much as they could possibly want, and not having to hurry off to school.

It’s not just the food that I miss, it’s the ritual of waking up in the morning to the smell of something cooking.  Breakfast foods have their own special smells, eggs frying in butter, potatoes and onions simmering in oil, bread that has been perfectly toasted, and of course,  freshly brewed coffee.  It all tastes better when the amount of time you can devote to enjoying the meal equals the amount of time spent on its preparation.  These days, even our Sunday mornings have become so busy, there no longer seems to be enough time to sit around and enjoy a leisurely breakfast.  But Pesach is different.

Since I only make certain dishes during Passover, and try to make those that have been passed down from family members, it seems that the recipes themselves have taken on a life of their own.  Each one is a little reminder of a story, a person, a time or a place.  What would breakfast during Passover be without making Matzoh Brie, a bubbelah, or the cottage cheese pancakes that my mother-in-law Lil used to make.  Whenever I make them, I think of Passover on Chiltern Hill Road in Toronto, and breakfast in Lil’s kitchen.  Norm said his Mom took pride in the fact that she made ” a sponge cake a day” something I have never been able to duplicate.  I don’t remember the sponge cakes, but I do remember the delicious cottage cheese pancakes.  Serve them with fresh berries or a little jam, some coffee, and a side order of time.

Cottage Cheese Chremslach

1 cup cottage cheese (try to get a brand that isn’t too runny)

3 eggs

1 Tb sugar

½ tsp cinnamon

3/4 cup matzoh meal

dash of salt

Butter/oil for frying

Mix all the ingredients and let stand for about 5 minutes.  Batter should hold together and depending on size of eggs, add a little more matzoh meal.  Then pour a couple of tablespoons of oil into a frying pan along with an equal amount of butter.   Using a large spoon, drop the batter into the pan to make small pancakes.  Fry till golden and then flip over.  Makes about 12.

Enjoy,

Irene

Dried (and fresh) Mushroom Soup

mushroomLetters would arrive from France, Poland, and Israel, my father carefully removing the stamps before tossing the envelopes.  Once in a while, no more than once or twice a year, a package would arrive as well.  It was always the same, a cardboard box wrapped in brown paper tied with a rope.  It was clear from the handwriting that it was addressed by someone whose native language was not English.  A pungent, earthy smell seeped through the box, revealing the contents before we managed to cut the string.

The box contained dried mushrooms, grzyby.  They were sent to us by a Polish man who had helped my father during the war, a man who in return for his kindness and heroism, received a small check from my father, every month, for as long as I can remember.  They never saw each other again, but the relationship was maintained by this exchange that went back and forth across the ocean, via mail.

In an age where letters are a rare form of communication, and packages often come from Amazon, I miss that feeling of anticipation and excitement that went hand in hand with the approach of a mailman.   We say our hectic lives are to blame, but I think about this Polish farmer, whose life I am sure was challenging in many unimaginable ways, going out to the woods to pick mushrooms after a rainfall,  then drying them, boxing them, and taking them to a post office to mail them to a man in the United States who he had not seen in years.

It has been rainy and cold (for L.A.) and Purim is around the corner.  That means Mishloah Manot will soon be mailed.  I have no doubt that there will be various comments about the contents, but I hope that the packages will stir the same feelings that I think my father experienced when those boxes arrived.  Knowing that someone is thinking of you, year after year, and from miles away.

In the meantime, it is a perfect time of year to make a pot of mushroom soup.

Dried Mushroom Soup

2 oz. dried Polish mushrooms

1 cup hot water

1 lb small brown or white mushrooms

2 Tb olive oil

1 large brown onion

1 small leek, white part only

1 large russet potato

2 Tb butter

3 cups pareve chicken stock plus reserved water that mushrooms were soaked in.

1 1/2 tsp salt

1 tsp pepper

1/2 cup whole milk

Soak dried mushrooms in a small bowl of hot water for a few minutes to release any dirt.  Then strain and place mushrooms in about 1 cup of hot water for about 20 minutes till mushrooms soften.  Peel and dice onion, clean and thinly slice leek,  and add both to a large soup pot along with the 2 Tb  of olive oil.   Saute onions and leeks for about 5 minutes over a low flame but do not allow to brown.  Thinly slice fresh mushrooms and add to pot along with dried mushrooms, reserved liquid, and chicken broth.  Add potato that you have peeled and diced and salt and pepper.  Bring  soup to a boil, lower heat and simmer covered, for about one hour.  Allow to cool and then purée using an immersion blender.  Add butter and milk and adjust seasoning to taste.  If you want to reheat, do it over a low flame.  Serves 6 – 8

Enjoy,

Irene

Rolled Biscuits

biscuit 2Having grown up in New York, I couldn’t imagine a childhood free of snow, so each year, around  Christmas time, we piled our kids into the car and drove them to the mountains surrounding Los Angeles.  There were day trips to Angeles Crest, the trunk of the Volvo Wagon holding plastic saucers and black garbage bags, perfect for sliding down the snow-covered hills.  Some winter vacations were spent visiting Bubbie and Zaidie in Toronto, there we would walk our children to Cedarvale Park so they could sled in the very same spot where Norm and his sisters had gone sledding as children.  There were occasional December trips to NYC, making sure that we took the time to show the kids the Christmas windows,  an annual ritual from my childhood, made all the better if the day involved gently falling snowflakes while strolling down 5th Avenue.

When they were slightly older, we discovered Mammoth, an easy five-hour drive from home.  We put pillows and blankets in the car and on the way we listened to Burl Ives,  and sang civil war songs from our collection of worn and tattered song books.  Arriving in the town of Bishop always meant a stop at Schat’s Bakkery to buy delicious Sheepherder’s bread for sandwiches, and cinnamon bread for breakfast toast.

There were ski lessons and snow boarding lessons.  While Norm and the kids were on the slopes, I spent the days seated by the large glass window in the ski lodge, with my magazines and books piled on my table, and a mug of cocoa as my only companion.  I passed the time quietly, my only other activity was my frequent  glances through the window, hoping that I would see them coming down the mountain,  still in one piece.  We would always have lunch together, and then they would head back out.  One year, my friend Fredda and I made Cholent for lunch, and actually transported it to the ski area, ladling out hot steaming portions to our grateful skiers, who may have been embarrassed by their mothers, but still ate with relish.

There were specific restaurants we went to each year.  One was Blondie’s Kitchen and Waffle Shop, a small breakfast place with checkered tablecloths, and a down home atmosphere, the kind of place I still love.  The breakfast was always good, and the portions generous.  Eggs came with a side of biscuits, my first introduction to what blossomed into my ongoing love affair with those small and simple quick breads.

We haven’t been to Mammoth in years.  One of my children still actively skis, and all the kids live on the East Coast where they have plenty of snow.  Norm and I are still  in warm and sunny Los Angeles, where today, I am remembering it all and making biscuits for breakfast.  Happy Holidays!!!

 

biscuit 1

Rolled Biscuits 

2 cups all-purpose flour 

1 tsp sugar

2 1/2 tsp baking powder

1 tsp salt

6 Tb cold butter, cut into pieces

3/4 cup milk

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.  In a large bowl combine flour, sugar, baking powder and salt.  Using a pastry knife or two forks, cut butter into mixture until it begins to look like cornmeal.  Make a well in flour mixture and  add milk.  Place mixture on lightly floured board and  knead  for a minute or two, just enough for dough to hold together.   Gently pat dough  down and out, using your finger tips, till you have a 1/2 ” thick rectangle.  Cut rounds out with a medium-sized glass by pressing down, not twisting.  Bake biscuits on an ungreased cookie sheet for about 10-12 minutes.   Makes about 10 biscuits.

Enjoy,

Irene

 

Jenny’s Eggplant Parmesan

photo-15As a child I was frightened of revolving doors, worried that they wouldn’t slow down long enough for me to get out.  Eventually I overcame my fear, (I must admit I still don’t like them) but in truth revolving doors are unavoidable, and have become somewhat of a metaphor.  People seem to come in and out of my life, particularly at work where young adults are often experiencing their first job in the non-profit world, moving on after several years.  I tend to “adopt” these 25-30 year olds that I call my ” work kids.”  

Jenny was one of those “kids,” arriving in L.A. from Michigan, eager to get started, a whirlwind of a girl, full of energy and spunk, and fun to have around.  After several years of searching for the right guy, Jenny was fortunate enough to meet Sean and joined him in Ohio.

What do you do when you miss someone?  Some people look at photos, others are good at reaching out, I cook something that reminds me of the person.  Eggplant Parmesan was Jenny’s signature dish.  By the way, the good thing about revolving doors is that they have no beginning and no end.

 

photo-14

Jenny’s Eggplant Parmesan
2 Globe Eggplants
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 cups of Italian bread crumbs
3 eggs, or more as needed
salt and pepper
3/4 cup shredded Parmesan
3 cups shredded mozzarella 
2 – 26 oz. jars of Marinara sauce or whatever sauce you prefer. Jenny likes 3 Cheese Tomato Sauce
Preheat oven to 375 degrees.  Slice eggplants about 1/2 inch thick.  Line two cookie sheets with parchment paper.  Make an assembly line with three pie plates, one with flour, one with beaten eggs, and the last with bread crumbs seasoned with salt and pepper.  Lightly dredge each slice of eggplant in flour, dip in egg, and then in seasoned bread crumbs.  Lay coated slices of eggplant on cookie sheets and  bake for about 20 minutes.  Eggplant slices should be tender and golden when done.  Grease a baking dish with olive oil.  Spoon enough sauce to just cover the bottom of the pan and layer with eggplant, sauce,  sprinkling of Parmesan and then mozzarella.  Keep layering till you finish with mozzarella cheese on top.  Add more cheese as needed.  Bake for another 20 minutes or so until cheese is golden brown and bubbling.  Serves 6
Enjoy,
Irene

Strawberry Rhubarb Crisp

photo-7The trip was special in that it began with my daughter-in-law’s graduation from medical school and ended with a wedding of close family friends.  In between it went something like this.

I took a class in Tai Chi while visiting a friend in New Jersey, and it was all about balance and the ability to shift your weight from one foot to the other while still in motion, and without effort.  For almost three weeks I traveled around the East Coast and each day brought a change in scenery and tempo.  Five states, four museums, historic sites and centers, cities and countryside.  I stayed in seven different places during my trip and enjoyed each one.  Some days were filled with activity and celebrations of one kind or another, other days were quiet and peaceful.  Some days were devoted to cooking with old friends and family members, others were spent eating wonderful meals in restaurants, pubs, and inns.  I even managed to stop for lunch at one of my all time favorite “food” places, Reading Terminal.  With too  many memorable meals to mention, here are just a few.  A post-graduation lunch at Bar Boulud  where I ate a dish of homemade pasta with cippolini onions, spring peas, and cheddar.  Mother’s Day  (the day my brother-in-law’s newest grandson was born) was celebrated at Minetta Tavern.  I had Brandade,  a dish of salt cod cooked with potatoes and milk, mashed into a creamy purée.  There was crisp duck with a balsamic glaze at a kosher restaurant in Teaneck, smoked fish from Acme in Brooklyn, halibut with mango and avocado salsa in West Orange followed by a delicious cheesecake,  filet of flounder sautéed in panko crumbs in Philly followed by ripe cheeses and many glasses of wine, blintzes in Greenwich, and fish cakes with rémoulade sauce in Marshfield.

My cousins in Marshfield have a beautiful garden filled with flowers and vegetables.  One morning Janine picked some rhubarb, enough to make a pie or two, with no cookbook in hand and no recipe card on the counter.  It reminded me of the way my mother baked but this time I made sure to take notes.  It had been twenty-seven years or so since I last visited Marshfield and I left hoping that my next visit would come sooner.  Ready to get back to the fast pace of NYC, I first made sure that I took some home-grown rhubarb with me.  On our last Shabbat in NYC we enjoyed a vegetarian feast prepared for us by Heidi and Rob, friends of our children.  The meal ended with a strawberry rhubarb crisp that I made with Janine’s recipe and her rhubarb.

Then there was the wedding.  It was magical, set in the Hudson River Valley, not far from where I spent summers during my childhood.  Everything felt familiar, the air, the trees, the food, and the music.  We returned to Brooklyn in the early evening on Memorial Day and we celebrated with a BBQ in the park.  Norm and I were going home early the next morning and as I prepared to shift once again, I found that it was not without effort.

Strawberry Rhubarb Crisp
4 large stalks rhubarb, thinly sliced

1 quart strawberries, cut in half or quartered, depending on size

1 1/2 cups sugar

1 Tb tapioca

1/2 cup sour cream

1 egg, beaten

1 tsp vanilla

Mix all ingredients and put in the bottom of either two greased 8″ round pie plates,  or one large greased 8 x 10 pan.

Topping

3/4 cup brown sugar

1 cup flour

1 tsp cinnamon

1/2 cup butter, room temperature

Mix ingredients together with your finger tips until you get small crumbs.  Sprinkle over fruit and bake at 375 till golden and bubbly, about 30 minutes.  Can serve 2 or 6, just depends.

Enjoy,

Irene

Shortbread Triangles

IMG_2192Shhhh,  here is what I baked and sent in lieu of Hamantaschen this year, and here is what I received in return.  Chag Purim Sameach.

Shortbread Triangles (a Martha Stewart Recipe)

1 stick unsalted butter room temperature

1 cup all-purpose flour

1/3 cup confectioners’ sugar

Preheat oven to 300 degrees. In a mixing bowl, cream butter and sugar till light and fluffy.  Add flour and mix just enough to combine. (You can chill dough for 10 minutes if it is too soft) Pat dough into a greased 8-inch round cake pan.  Using a small knife and a small ruler, score cookies so that you end up with 8 triangles. Crimp edges with a fork. Bake about 30 to 35 minutes or till just lightly golden. Cool completely, and then turn out of pan on to hard surface and immediately slice cookies along scored edges with a serrated  knife.  Set on parchment paper and dip one edge of each cookie into chocolate.

Chocolate glaze

3 oz. semi-sweet chocolate

1 tsp canola oil

Coarsely chop chocolate and melt in a double boiler, stirring with a wooden spoon.  Add safflower oil and stir.  Remove from heat, and let cool for just a few minutes.  Dip one edge of each cookie into chocolate glaze, and transfer to rack to cool.  Refrigerate for about 15 minutes. Cookies can the be stored, or shipped!

Friday, February 22, 2013

By Rav David

Our Temple Sholom Purim festivities kick off tomorrow night with our hamentaschen bake off and pizza party, followed by the Megillah reading. However, the beginning of Purim festivities technically begins two weeks in advance of the holiday, when the Hebrew month of Adar begins. For me, the spirit of Purim begins when I receive an email from my mother asking about particulars for this year’sMishloach Manot, special Purim care packages full of hamantaschen and other delicious (and not necessarily nutritious) foodstuffs.

This year’s email was particularly entertaining. I quote, in full: “Sinful goodies will soon be on their way but IF anybody doesn’t want a basket because of lifestyle “issues” then please tell me now, not after, and I can redistribute all the goodies. Love, me.” In my family, “lifestyle ‘issues’” are things like a carbohydrate- or sugar-free diet, a bout of veganism, or the like. We all write back saying that of course we’ll love whatever our beloved mother sends-which is true-and with the anticipation of homemadeMishloach Manot the spirit of Purim is upon me.

But Purim is about more than hamantaschen, carnivals, and costumes. It’s about defeating Haman through spreading joy and practicing compassion: “The Kobriner Rabbi (late 19th century) was accustomed to command his followers to give Purim gifts to each other, and to pay for the messengers by a special donation to the poor of the Land of Israel. ‘This is the best way to strike at Haman,’ said the Rabbi.” Indeed! Mordecai himself instituted the ritual of spreading the joy and compassion on Purim, in Esther 9:22: “[The] days on which the Jews enjoyed relief from their foes…had been transformed for them from one of grief and mourning to one of festive joy. They were to observe them as days of feasting and merrymaking, and as an occasion for sending gifts to one another and presents to the poor.” In the Jewish tradition, there is no more powerful way to strike at Haman, to defeat enemies, than to celebrate life, to feast, to spread joy and compassion in the world.

Leo Tolstoy said of Jews: “The Jew – is the symbol of eternity. … He is the one who for so long had guarded the prophetic message and transmitted it to all mankind. A people such as this can never disappear. The Jew is eternal. He is the embodiment of eternity.” The Jew is not eternal because Haman and his predecessors and followers all failed to destroy the Jewish people. The Jew is eternal because with the failure of each and every anti-Jewish ruler, the Jews gather together, celebrate, and defeat hatred with love. We are a people that have suffered, yes; but we have nevertheless, paradoxically, affirmed a basic optimistic outlook and joyful approach to life. Purim is the holiday that best captures that joy, and the special foods, theMishloach Manot, are an embodiment of the indefatigable Jewish spirit.

Every holiday that celebrates triumph over enemies–Purim, Chanukah, Passover, etc–gives us two options. We can either complain about the evil that caused so much suffering for our people, or we can increase the joy, increase the compassion, and increase the justice in the world. Purim is the opportunity to increase that joy.

One of my favorite teachings on this topic comes from Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook, the Chief Rabbi of British Mandatory Palestine. A European Jew born in the mid-19th century, Rav Kook lived in Europe during World War I, and saw any number of latter day “Hamans”. Nevertheless, he challenges us to increase the good in the world rather than complaining about the evil: “…the pure righteous do not complain of the dark, but increase the light; they do not complain of evil, but increase justice; they do not complain of heresy, but increase faith; they do not complain of ignorance, but increase wisdom.”

Chag Purim Sameach – Happy Purim!

Tomato Soup

IMG_2156My sister told me that despite her repeated requests for a colored television, my parents refused to buy one until I (the baby in the family) wanted one, and then one was bought right away.  That television changed our lives in many ways.  Ed Sullivan, The Micky Mouse Club, and Captain Kangaroo became weekly guests in our home.  We were just as attentive during the commercial breaks and the ads were so convincing, that even a child as young as I was then, I advocated for whatever they happened to be selling.  I am ashamed to admit that I begged my mother to buy Chef Boyardee products, T.V. Dinners, and Campbell Soups.  I couldn’t understand why she insisted on spending her time carefully dicing and chopping vegetables when I was sure that her homemade soups could not possibly compare to the gelatinous, cylindrical mass of soup that came out of a can.  My mother kept preparing her wonderful chicken soup, made with chicken feet that we loved to chew on, vegetable soups cooked with delicious marrow bones which could only be scooped out with the smallest of spoons, white bean soups that were hearty and peppery, and a “milchig” tomato soup, the one soup I wouldn’t eat.  I can’t tell you why.  Maybe it was because my mother told me that she never ate tomatoes when she was a child.  Maybe it was the tartness of the tomatoes, or the acidity of the soup.  I have no memory of what that particular soup tasted like, and sadly I have no idea how she prepared it.

What I do know is that my mother refused to listen to those ad campaigns and successfully ignored my nagging.  She continued  making homemade soups her entire life.  Without any lecturing, in her own gentle way, and by example, she taught me a valuable lesson about life and soup, that fast is not always better and that tomato soup is delicious after all.

Tomato Soup adapted from a recipe by Ina Garten

I-28 oz. can whole peeled tomatoes

2 large red onions, chopped

3 medium carrots, diced

4 cloves garlic

1 tsp sugar

2 Tb tomato paste

3 Tb olive oil

4 cups pareve chicken stock

salt and pepper to taste

1/2 cup whole milk

Heat the olive oil in a large pot.  Add chopped onions and carrots, and sauté for about 20 minutes.  Add garlic, can of tomatoes, tomato paste, sugar, chicken stock, salt and pepper. Bring the soup to a boil, stir, lower the heat, cover and simmer for about 45 minutes.  Puree, stir in milk, and adjust seasoning.  Garnish with diced avocado and tortilla chips.  Serves 4-6

Enjoy,

Irene

Curried Zucchini Soup

IMG_1692I often think of my mother, but as Chanukah approaches her memory burns bright.  She would stand at the kitchen counter with her box grater, and one by one grate the potatoes on the side with the finest holes.  Grated, not shredded.  No food processor in sight, just hard work that often resulted in raw knuckles.  The same pan was used to fry them each year, the one pan that produced a golden disc, not dark brown and not soft, but thin and crisp.  Since they were served as the main course, there were always plenty of Latkes to go around, and I would alternate between topping them with sour cream, apple sauce, or my personal favorite, just plain sugar.

For some reason my mother chose tuna salad as the side dish, and everyone was given hot tea which she served in drinking glasses.  The golden color of the Laktes was echoed in the color of the tea, my mother’s holiday china, and in the lights of the Menorah.  She loved the melodies of the Chanukah songs, and so each year we sing the Yiddish variation of Chanukah Oy Chanukah, a tradition we have carried on in tribute to this diminutive, brave, woman who made our home shine so bright.

 Chanukah, Oy Chanukah
A yontev a sheyner
A lustiger, a freylecher
Nito noch azayner

Alle nacht in dreydl
shpilen mir
zudik heyse latkes
Esen Mir
Geshvinder
tzindt kinder
Di Chanukah lichtelach ahn

Lomir alle singen
Und lomir ale Shpringen
Und lomir ale tantzen in kon

Lomir alle singen
Und lomir ale Shpringen
Und lomir ale tantzen in kon

 I think hot soup goes better with latkes, especially one that serves as another venue for sour cream.

Curried Zucchini Soup

2 Tb butter

1 Tb olive oil

1 medium onion, diced

1 small clove garlic, minced

1 small carrot, chopped

2 Tb butter

4 medium zucchini, coarsely chopped

4 cups pareve chicken broth

2 1/2 teaspoons curry powder, or to taste

salt and pepper to taste

In a large pot add butter and olive oil over low heat till butter is melted.  Add the diced onion and sauté till translucent but not brown.  Add garlic and carrots and cook for about 10 minutes.  Then add zucchini, chicken broth, and curry powder.  Season with salt and pepper.  Bring soup to a boil, and reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 20 minutes.
Carefully purée the soup in the blender in small batches.  Don’t forget to serve with a dollop of sour cream.  Happy Chanukah!Enjoy,

Irene