Once a year, Jews all over the world come together to celebrate freedom. We commemorate our ancestors’ emancipation from Egypt by conducting what is traditionally known as a Seder (translation, “order”). Depending on your religious commitment, you could dine at at between one and four Seders. The holiday is eight days long and poses some serious dietary restrictions.
To honor our ancestors who escaped from Egypt thousands of years ago, we adhere (or attempt to adhere) to the diet that they followed in the desert as they made their way to safer land.
Perhaps the most ubiquitously known Passover food is matzo. These completely flat, typically square shaped, cracker-esque sheets are essentially unleavened bread. The story goes as follows. In preparation for the escape from Egypt, the Jews attempted to make bread for the long journey ahead.
They were forced to escape earlier than expected and the bread did not have time to rise. Thus we eat unleavened bread for eight days to honor those who had to.
The restrictions do not stop there. One cannot consume anything that rises, so to speak, in following with this “unleavened” tradition. These prohibited items include, but are not limited to, wheat, flour, peanuts, corn and soy.
Only Sephardic Jews are allowed to eat rice (hence for eight days a year my mother and I trade in our Ashkenazi heritage for the former). Skimming through these ingredients might belittle the restrictiveness of the holiday. Literally almost everything one eats on a daily basis contains at least one of the above ingredients. For one, almost everything I eat on a daily basis contains some form of corn syrup or soy lecithin. Such a shame.
Let’s talk Seder. There is a scene from Woody Allen’s Annie Hall that sums up my family’s Seder perfectly. In the film, Alvy Singer (Woody Allen) dines at his quintessentially “Waspy” girlfriend’s home. Annie Hall (Diane Keaton) and her family sit calmly, and rather quietly, around the dinner table.
In the middle of dinner Alvy breaks the fourth wall (stares into the camera) and describes his opposing family to the viewer.
Indeed, the scene is split into two (split-screen). On the left sits the Hall family, cool and collected. The Singer family is depicted on the right.
They are entirely antithetical to the Halls. The table is cluttered with seemingly homemade food. The Singers are notably louder than the Halls. They have thick New York accents. Their meal, to put it simply, seems chaotic.
This undoubtedly portrays the stereotype of the “neurotic Jewish New Yorker,” and some might take offense to it. I would rather embrace it.
My upwards of 50-person family (I’m serious) gathers in my cousins’ home on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, much like Alvy’s. In preparation for this meal, my grandmother, identical twin great aunts and cousins cook for days.
Cousins and other family members fly in from everywhere from San Francisco to Palm Beach. We pray, drink and eat together. Although many of us dread giving up our carbohydrate addictions, this holiday is an excuse to come together from all over the country. Moreover, it is an excuse to partake in some delectable food-oriented traditions.
Ah, the matzo ball. A delightfully plump, soft ball of deliciousness, a matzo ball is made from, well, matzo meal.
My grandmother’s recipe undoubtedly contains more intricate flavors. Yet, her recipe is a secret, so you’ll have to take my word for it. The matzo balls are served in homemade chicken soup. The soup is simple — chicken stock, vegetables and pulled chicken meat. We add dill for an extra kick of flavor.
For dinner this year we had filet mignon. It was rubbed with salt, herbes de provence and a tablespoon of olive oil.
The meat was served medium rare, more towards rare than medium. It was as tender as could be. For sides we served a plethora of vegetables and potato cakes. The mini cakes are shredded potato with some form of kosher-for-Passover oil. We add salt and pepper and bake them until they are golden brown.
They are crunchy on the outside, softer on the inside and are a true Passover treat.
Dessert is the pinnacle of the meal. This might seem counterintuitive, as things that rise are dessert staples. Yet if you get creative, dessert can really be enjoyable. We have the same homemade desserts every year. First, a sponge cake.
This is not my personal favorite, but it seems to disappear quickly every year. The consistency is exactly how it sounds: sponge-like. There is lemon in it to give it a boost taste-wise.
We make chocolate French macaroons too. Not the coconut macaroons, but rather, the inherently egg-white ones.
They are thin, airy, chocolate cookies made of egg whites, milk chocolate, sugar and chopped walnuts. They are at once sweet from the sugar and chocolate and darker in flavor due to the walnuts.
Candied matzo, which is matzo dipped on one side in milk chocolate and on the other in some brown sugar concoction is top-notch. We finish off the Seder with fresh fruit, and are full for days.
