Post by just John on Dec 9, 2009 12:28:53 GMT -5
;D ;D 
While reading the NY Times online, they provided recipes from Jewish mamas that are terrific.
Here are the ones I got.
Recipe: Potato Pancakes
2 large eggs
3 cups grated drained all-purpose potatoes
¼ cup grated onion
1 teaspoon salt, more to taste
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 to 4 tablespoons matzo meal, or as needed
Canola oil, for frying
Applesauce and sour cream for serving (optional).
1. In a large mixing bowl, beat eggs lightly. Add potatoes, onion, salt and pepper, and mix well. Stir in 2 tablespoons matzo meal, and let it sit about 30 seconds to absorb moisture in batter. If necessary add more to make a thick, wet batter that is neither watery nor dry.
2. Place a large skillet over medium heat, and add 2 tablespoons oil. When oil is hot drop in heaping 1/8 cups (about 2 tablespoons) of batter, flattening them gently to make thick pancakes. When bottoms have browned, after 2 to 3 minutes, flip and brown on other side. Add oil as needed. Drain on paper towels, and sprinkle with additional salt to taste. If necessary, work in batches, keeping cooked pancakes warm. Serve hot with applesauce and sour cream, if desired.
Yield: 4 servings (about 24 small pancakes).
A Year-Round Craving for the Latkes of Yore
By ALEX WITCHEL
TIME to make the latkes, and not because it’s almost Hanukkah. These last few years I’ve made latkes in all four seasons for a friend who loves them. Arthur is 82. We first got into a latkes conversation (he pronounces it lot-kees, as he must have as a child) three years ago. He asked if I’d ever had them. Puh-leeze! Both my grandmothers were latke experts, even though in those pre-Cuisinart days the pancakes were often as pink and gray — from the oxidizing hand-grated potatoes that had sat too long in the bowl — as they were completely delicious.
When my mother made them, still pre-Cuisinart, she figured out a way to save time, by grating the potatoes in the blender — without liquefying them, incredibly. She also sprinkled cream of tartar in the batter to keep it from changing color. That came in especially handy for her Hanukkah parties, when she often turned out 100 pancakes.
Arthur was curious about the way I made mine. “Do you fry them in butter or schmaltz?” he asked, meaning rendered chicken fat.
I howled with laughter. “Are you kidding?” I asked. “I fry them in canola oil so I’ll live to see the morning.” In that case, he said, he’d like to try them.
Then I got nervous. I hadn’t made latkes in years, and every time I did the measurements seemed off: the amount of matzo meal needed depended on the water content of the potatoes, and somehow there was never enough salt. The Cuisinart was a godsend, though if I left the grated potatoes draining too long in the sink, I could imagine my grandmothers sitting in the kitchen, rolling their eyes as they watched me cook, the way I used to watch them. That expensive machine, and still pink. Kids!
On the appointed night, I roasted some chickens and bought a fancy dessert as a consolation prize in case the latkes bombed. I fried them while Arthur and our spouses had drinks, and tasted the first one out of the pan. Wow. Not bad. I put the next one on a tiny plate and took it to him as an hors d’oeuvre, special, the way you do with children. I used to just hang around the frying pan like a beggar, dependent on the kindness of the chef, whichever chef, who would hand me one in a paper towel, warning, “Don’t burn yourself.”
I served the dinner. I’ve known Arthur 18 years, and he and his wife, Barbara, recently celebrated 60 years of marriage, but that was the night we fell in love. “Just like my mother’s,” he said jubilantly. “How did you get them so light in the middle? So crispy around the edges?”
I actually wasn’t sure. My grandmothers may have been in the kitchen after all.
I kept on making latkes, even in summer, when we ate them with smoked fish, which was a great combination. Arthur couldn’t have cared less about that. “Just make the latkes,” he’d say. “That’s all that matters.”
Why is that, I asked him. What’s with the latke obsession?
“They were a staple of my mother’s kitchen table,” he said. “She knew I loved them, so she made them all the time. That aroma never got out of my mind. I think I got tall because I ate latkes.”
Maybe so. It never worked for me. What I remember, from my grandmothers’ kitchens and my mother’s, was not the aroma but the crowds. Latkes are at their best right out of the pan, so everyone would hover, then pounce. It was usually a holiday, and people were happy and expansive — the kind of occasion where you heard the phrase “eating like there’s no tomorrow.”
“Good cooks enliven your palate, and my mother was a great cook,” Arthur told me. “I notice when you’re working on the latkes, you’re really concentrating.” He’s right. I’m trying not to burn them.
I guess I also take my unexpected mission more seriously than I intended. I always assumed that until I became a grandmother myself, no one would consider my dishes iconic. The idea that one could be so magical for a person so much older than me had never crossed my mind. I must say I find it thrilling. I always wanted to time-travel, and with Arthur I’ve improbably landed in a Bronx kitchen, sometime in the 1930s. A far cry from Paris in the ’20s, sure. But a loving place where every so often I’m a mom, of sorts, to a most appreciative son.
The last time I made Arthur latkes, he was overcome. “You know,” he said. “I don’t say this lightly. But I think these latkes are even better than my mother’s.”
I beamed. That’s my boy.
Recipe Brandade Potato Latkes
Adapted from Daniel Rose
Time: 1 hour plus 15 minutes’ resting and 30 minutes’ refrigeration
2 pounds fresh skinless boneless cod
Sea salt
1/2 cup olive oil
1 cup milk
5 thyme sprigs
8 cloves garlic, crushed
2 1/2 pounds russet potatoes, peeled and halved
1 large egg, lightly beaten
Freshly ground black pepper
Vegetable oil for frying
2 cups matzo meal or fine dry bread crumbs.
1. Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Liberally coat cod with about 3 tablespoons salt on each side, and allow to rest for 15 minutes. Rinse with cold water and pat dry with paper towels.
2. Place cod in an 8 by 12 baking dish or jelly roll pan. Pour olive oil and milk over cod, and lay thyme sprigs and garlic on top. Cover with foil and bake until fish is just cooked and begins to flake, about 20 minutes. When fish has cooked, remove cod and reserve thyme and cooking liquid; discard garlic.
3. While fish cooks, place potatoes in a large pot and add cold water to cover and 2 tablespoons salt. Bring to a boil and cook until tender, about 20 minutes. Drain well and return to pot. Place over very low heat for about 4 minutes to get rid of excess moisture. Remove from heat; mash in pot until smooth.
4. In a large bowl, whisk egg. Stir mashed potatoes, little by little, into egg. Add leaves (not stems) from reserved thyme. Using a fork, flake cod and fold it into mashed potatoes until well blended. If batter is too stiff, mix an extra 1/4 cup to 1/2 cup cod cooking liquid into the remaining batter. If it does not hold together, add up to 1/4 cup matzo meal. Season to taste with pepper. Cover and refrigerate for 30 minutes.
5. Fill a large skillet with about 1/4 inch vegetable oil, and place over medium-high heat. Using a 1/2 cup or 1/4 cup measuring cup, measure a portion of cod-potato mixture and shape into a 1/2 inch thick disk. Coat disks in matzo meal or bread crumbs. Fry until golden, turning once, about 2 minutes a side. Repeat with remaining batter and drain on paper towels. To serve, reheat if necessary on a baking sheet in a 350-degree oven.
Yield: 8 main course servings (16 large latkes) or 32 hors d’oeuvre latkes.
Recipe Babette Friedman’s Apple Cake
Adapted from Daniel Rose
Time: 1 hour 15 minutes
8 ounces (2 sticks) unsalted butter, more for greasing pan
1 1/3 cups plus 1 tablespoon sugar
1/8 teaspoon salt
2 large eggs
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
4 Gala or other flavorful apples, peeled, cored and each cut into 8 slices
1/2 teaspoon Calvados or apple brandy
1 teaspoon freshly grated ginger
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 9-inch springform pan, and set aside.
2. In bowl of an electric mixer fitted with a whisk attachment, combine remaining 8 ounces butter, 1 1/3 cups sugar and the salt. Mix until blended. Add eggs and whisk until smooth. Using a rubber spatula, gently fold in the flour and baking powder until thoroughly mixed. Fold in a few of the apples, and spread batter evenly in pan.
3. In large bowl, toss remaining apples with Calvados, ginger and cinnamon. Arrange apple slices in closely fitting concentric circles on top of dough; all the slices may not be needed. Sprinkle remaining 1 tablespoon sugar over apples.
4. Bake until a toothpick inserted into center of cake dough comes out clean and apples are golden and tender, about 50 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature.
Yield: 8 to 10 servings.
Recipe: Hungarian Stuffed-Under-the-Skin Chicken Adapted From Mindel Appel
Time: 1 hour 45 minutes
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
4 medium onions, 2 finely chopped and 2 quartered
1 cup thinly sliced button or wild mushrooms
2 cloves garlic, minced
6 thick slices challah or other bread
1 large egg, lightly beaten
2 tablespoons chopped parsley
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
½ teaspoon Hungarian sweet paprika, more as needed
1 3-to 4-pound chicken, quartered
½ pound trimmed green beans
4 carrots, peeled, trimmed and cut into large chunks.
1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. In a skillet over medium heat, heat 2 tablespoons oil and add chopped onions, mushrooms and garlic. Sauté until lightly browned, about 5 minutes.
2. Tear bread into large pieces and place in a bowl. Sprinkle with enough water to thoroughly dampen it on all sides. Allow to sit for 1 minute, then squeeze out as much water as possible. In a mixing bowl, combine bread, egg, parsley and onion-mushroom mixture. Season generously with salt, pepper and paprika to taste.
3. Divide stuffing into four equal portions. Gently pull enough skin from each chicken piece to be able to push stuffing mixture under skin. In a small bowl, combine remaining tablespoon oil with ½ teaspoon paprika and salt to taste. Mix well and brush over chicken pieces, saving a bit for basting.
4. In a 9-by-13-inch roasting pan, scatter quartered onions, green beans and carrots. Place chicken pieces skin-side up on vegetables. Roast uncovered for 60 minutes, basting halfway through. (If chicken begins to look too brown, cover lightly with foil.) Lower oven temperature to 275 degrees and continue to cook until meat is opaque and white all the way through, about 30 minutes more. To serve, place an equal amount of roasted vegetables on each of four plates, topped by a portion of chicken.
Yield: 4 servings.
From Hungary, for Hanukkah, From Long Ago
By JOAN NATHAN
KIRYAS JOEL, N.Y.
AS Mindel Appel showed me the contents of her freezer, my pulse began to race.
Out came her homemade kokosh cake, similar to babka. Next were shlishkes, little potato dumplings that can be tossed in sugar, breadcrumbs and butter, or stuffed with lekvar, a kind of prune preserve. Finally, she brought out a Hanukkah delicacy, the cheese Danish called delkelekh.
As a writer concentrating on Jewish food, I always get letters and e-mail asking for old recipes from Hungary. Most of what I know about these foods I have read in books. Some are still made in Hungary, and I’ve come across Americans who make noodles and cabbage with poppy seeds or who remember shlishkes. But with assimilation, shortcuts, the passage of time and the passing of old cooks, many of these recipes may soon be lost.
So I was thrilled to find these famous dishes in this village about 45 miles north of the George Washington Bridge. The women of the Satmar Hasidic community here have preserved delkelekh and shlishkes, and many other staples of the Hungarian Jewish kitchen.
One of the world’s largest groups of Hasidic Jews, the Satmar originated in Szatmarnemeti, Hungary (now Satu Mare, Romania). There are communities in Williamsburg and Borough Park, Brooklyn; Monsey in Rockland County; and here in Orange County.
The founder of the Satmar Hasidim, Rabbi Joel Teitelbaum, was saved when more than 12,000 Jews from Szatmarnemeti were deported to Auschwitz. With the remnants of his sect, he settled in Williamsburg in 1946.
Concerned about assimilation, Rabbi Teitelbaum wanted a modern shtetl in America. In 1977 he bought a tract here and settled 14 families. Now there are 3,000 families, most of Hungarian descent, in Kiryas Joel.
“Oftentimes what we think of as an old-world shtetl is in fact a community where Jews and non-Jews lived alongside,” said David N. Myers, a professor of Jewish history at U.C.L.A., who is co-writing a book about the Satmar Hasids here. “That is what is so interesting about Kiryas Joel. Ironically, in America, it turns out to be possible to create a shtetl that is exclusively Jewish.”
A typical marriage may produce 10 children or more, giving the village the fastest growth rate in the state. The large families, I was told, are to help “replace the 6 million” lost in the Holocaust. Partly because most households have so many children, 62 percent of the villagers live below the poverty level, according to the 2000 census. Because of its rapid expansion and insular way of life, Kiryas Joel has come into conflict with neighboring towns over schooling, sewage, water use, taxation and voting.
Like nearly all residents, Mrs. Appel and her husband, Chaim, a special education teacher, live in a development of attached wooden houses with three stories, one family per story. Their apartment has three bedrooms, with multiple beds and cribs in each. They have 11 children and 15 grandchildren, who often visit. The apartment has only one bathroom. A separate Passover kitchen is sealed off the rest of the year. Like neighbors I visited, the Appels have no television, radio or magazines.
“These things are not an option for us,” said Mrs. Appel, who was born in the United States, but, like almost everyone here, speaks Yiddish as her first language. “We want to spend time with our kids. Family time comes with good cooking.”
When I visited, Mrs. Appel was cooking for an engagement party for a family that could not afford a caterer — shlishkes, potato kugel, gefilte fish and tiny meatballs in tomato sauce. Later, for Shabbat, she made chicken soup with peppers and paprika in an 18-quart pot and eight pounds of “stuffed-under-the-skin” chicken quarters.
Mrs. Appel’s everyday cooking includes dishes like sautéed cabbage and noodles, chicken paprikash with nocklern, stuffed cabbage and cholent with lima beans. Peppers, tomatoes and onions sat out on her counter, waiting to be turned into letcho, the ubiquitous Hungarian sauce, and a salad for a simple supper. Every once in a while, if she has been cooking all day for Shabbat meals or for other people, Mrs. Appel will serve her family frozen pizza.
One of the few cookbooks I saw around town was the spiral-bound “The Haimishe Kitchen,” from the Ladies Auxiliary of Nitra, the yeshiva in Mount Kisco. Most women rely on a small box of recipes on 3-by-5 cards, handed down from their mothers or learned in cooking class at the Bais Rochel, the girls’ religious school, which most girls here attend. Although Mrs. Appel makes her mother’s recipes, some modern ingredients have crept into her cooking.
“My mother never used commercial spices like the paprika and garlic powder we use today,” Mrs. Appel said. “We’ve modernized by using canned sauce and juice and vegetable oil.”
One or two restaurants opened, and failed, in Kiryas Joel. Taking a dozen children out to dinner is a financial hardship and a logistical nightmare. Besides, the Satmar believe that events outside the home are not healthy for young people. Engagements, weddings, bar mitzvahs and similar celebrations are the only social events.
Weddings are mammoth events, with at least 300 guests. Men and women sit, eat and dance separately. Parents arrange all marriages (subject to approval by the couple), choosing mates from Satmar communities.
At home, the Satmar speak Yiddish, with Hebrew the language of prayer and English taught in school. Education generally stops after high school. But the Satmar do not shun technology. Homes are wired for electricity, men use computers at work, and everyone seems to carry cellphones.
Men drive but women do not; it is seen as immodest. To shop, women walk to the strip mall, children in tow, or get deliveries.
After I left Mrs. Appel’s apartment, I visited Lillian Brach’s home. In her basement, Mrs. Brach has a bakery, where women were preparing food for a wedding, twisting hundreds of six-braided challahs as if it were the easiest thing in the world.
“When I taste the challahs that these women give me, I can feel their hands in the dough,” said Dr. Steven Benardo, superintendent of the Kiryas Joel Union Free School District. “While we are racing forward, they are running backward, successfully retaining their traditions.”
Besides the supermarket, with its huge selection of kosher goods, several businesses feed the village. Kiryas Joel Poultry, owned by the United Talmudic Academy, the yeshiva most boys here attend, uses kosher slaughtering rules to process 17,000 chickens each day, with some residents working next to Mexican laborers on the assembly line.
Each afternoon from early November through Passover, volunteers from the girls’ school roll out the round handmade matzo for the holiday at a matzo bakery.
One of the girls, Dina Freund, 17, showed me how to make cheese latkes, a Hanukkah specialty, at her home. When she had finished, her father, Rabbi Jacob Freund, demonstrated his version of letcho. A burly man who is proud of his position as a village trustee, he sat down at the counter, carefully cutting peppers and tomatoes.
“Besides today, I have made letcho only 11 times in my life,” he said. “Each time after my wife had a baby.”
Recipe: Onion Flat Rolls (Pletzlach)
Adapted from Rebecca Peltz
Time: About 1 hour, plus 1 1/2 hours' rising
4 cups all-purpose flour
2 scant tablespoons yeast (2 packets)
4 tablespoons sugar
1 large egg
1/4 cup plus 2 teaspoons vegetable oil
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 medium onion, peeled and diced
2 teaspoons poppy seeds
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt.
1. Place flour in bowl of an electric mixer with dough paddle attached. Make a well in center and pour in 1 cup lukewarm water. Stir in yeast and 2 tablespoons sugar, and let sit for 30 minutes.
2. Add egg, 1/4 cup vegetable oil, remaining sugar and the salt. Mix well until dough is soft but not sticky, adding flour if necessary. Turn into a greased bowl, and let rise again, covered, for one hour. Knead lightly, and let rise again for 30 minutes.
3. Heat oven to 350 degrees. Place diced onion in a small bowl, and stir in poppy seeds and remaining 2 teaspoons vegetable oil. Set aside.
4. Divide dough into 20 balls. On a floured board, roll each ball into a circle about 2 or 3 inches in diameter and about 1 inch thick. Sprinkle a tablespoon or so of onion-poppy seed mixture on each circle. Roll circles again, to a thickness of about 1/8 of an inch. Prick each circle with a fork and sprinkle lightly with kosher salt. Transfer to 2 ungreased baking sheets. Bake for about 20-25 minutes or until golden brown.
Yield: 20 onion rolls.
Recipe: Cheese Danish Pastries (Delkelekh) Adapted From Mindel Appel
Time: About an hour plus overnight refrigeration
FOR THE DOUGH:
1 tablespoon yeast
1/3 cup milk, at room temperature
2 large eggs, at room temperature
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
½ cup sour cream
1/3 cup sugar
½ teaspoon salt
3 cups all-purpose flour, sifted
For the filling:
12 ounces farmer’s cheese
1/3 cup sour cream
1/3 cup sugar
2 tablespoons flour
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 large egg yolk
Finely grated zest of 1 lemon
For assembly:
Flour, for dusting
1 large egg mixed with 1 tablespoon water
Confectioners’ sugar, optional.
1. For the dough: In bowl of an electric mixer, combine yeast and milk and allow to sit for a few minutes. Stir in eggs, butter, sour cream, sugar, salt and flour. Mix well until dough turns into a ball. Transfer to a covered container and allow to rest for 30 minutes, then refrigerate overnight.
2. For the filling: In bowl of an electric mixer, combine farmer’s cheese, sour cream, sugar, flour, vanilla, egg yolk and lemon zest. Mix well. Transfer to a covered container and refrigerate until needed, up to 24 hours.
3. For assembly: Preheat oven to 350 degrees, and line two baking sheets with parchment paper. Lightly dust a work surface with flour and roll out dough into a rectangle 1/8 inch thick. Cut into 4-by-4-inch squares. Spoon about 1 tablespoon filling into center of each square. Pick up corners of each square and press points together.
4. Arrange pastries on baking sheets about 1½ inches apart. Brush with egg mixture. Bake until golden, about 20 minutes. Allow to cool and serve as is or sprinkle with confectioners’ sugar.
Yield: About 24 pastries.
These are some great European type dishes !!!!!