Miriam Kresh

It seems to me that the basis for table manners is consideration for others. For instance, I was taught that after serving myself, I should offer the dish to the people sitting around me. I do get annoyed to see a person unconcernedly sitting in front of a pileup of all the hot dishes because he or she just took what they wanted without passing it around. It doesn't seem exaggerated to allow people space by keeping elbows off, when several are seated together. But when relaxing with a friend over coffee or wine, no big sin to casually place an elbow on your own side of the table. One should be flexible, I think. Using a toothpick in the presence of other diners, for another example. In some places I've lived in Latin America, it doesn't bother anybody; in others, and I must say in my home, one takes care of such things privately. I'm reading through this thread over several days, and one thing struck me as particularly interesting was the specific rules or rituals we were expected to observe. The Chinese custom of eating a little rice before anything else; another family's custom of saying what each was grateful for at Thanksgiving...these things add a different sort of substance to the family meal. Would it be out of place to discuss that here? Miriam

What was your family food culture when you were growing up? My mother was born and brought up in Nicaragua, of a Jewish family that was almost assimilated. My father was born in the US of Ashkenazi parentage but no great religious background at home either. All the family cooked from scratch, took pride in their food, and enjoyed eating. Discussing food and recipes was part of the pleasure. We loved it when friends from different countries would come and fix dinner in their own way for us. We'd get all the recipes and try some out ourselves, later. (Over the years, the family took on more religous observance and today I keep an entirely kosher kitchen.) My mother has been an excellent cook in her time, reproducing the Latin fare of her childhood with discrimination: rice cooked so that each grain is tender and seperate; black bean soup, plantains, perfectly roasted chicken, plenty of fresh vegetables and fruit, a salad at least once a day. We knew and appreciated dishes cooked with saffron, cumin, and coriander leaf. Back in the 60s in the Midwest, cashiers in the supermarket would ask my mother "what that purple thing is" - eggplant. Later Mom's curiosity, encouraged by Dad's love of dining well, led her to master many more kinds of dishes. I especially remember her duck l'orange. Yet when she first met and married my father, she knew nothing about cooking, for she had grown up privileged, in a house full of servants. As a war bride, Mom lived with my dad's parents. My grandmother, who later took courses at the Cordon Bleu, taught her the mysteries of lamb stew, flaky crust apple pie, and of course, the dish that cures all ills, chicken soup. Grandma's own mother, like all women coming from the shtetl 140 years ago, fermented her own sourkraut and beet borsht in barrels and brewed mead for Passover. She is said to have been an excellent cook too. I wonder which remote ancestress began the line of good cooks in my family. At any rate, by the time Dad came back from overseas and bought her the Fanny Farmer Cookbook, Mom was well on her life-long pursuit of fine home cooking. Mom still has that edition of Fanny Farmer; the pages are yellowed, stained, and pierced by the meanderings of the bookworm. I guess I'll receive it from her some day. My father had his signature dishes: carrot candy and matzah brie for Passover, honey cake for Rosh HaShannah (which always include a shot of slivovitz in the batter), and the Shabbat cholent was his big speciality. But stay-at-home Mom, who raised five kids while Dad traveled the world on business, was the main cook. One of the things that impressed me deeply in connection with cooking was Mom's satisfaction as she sat at the table receiving compliments from the people that mattered most. She would smile with contentment as we plied fork and knife. We would praise her talent, and she would beam. Was meal time important? Yes, we usually ate dinner together. Our varying schedules made family lunches less frequent. However, on Shabbat, that is, Friday night dinner and Saturday lunch, we were all expected to be at the table on time. Was cooking important? I think that was explained in my first answer. What were the penalties for putting elbows on the table? We were reprimanded. The atmosphere was easy, but basic table manners were expected. With one exception: the youngest, a girl, was indulgently allowed a certain leeway which we older ones never knew. In fact, I remember an occasion when my parents, this sister, and one of our brothers were dining together on roast chicken at home. My sis picked up a drumstick and proceeded to eat it nonchalantly with her hands, while our brother Daniel fixed a baleful eye on her. "Why," he demanded resentfully, "does Dina get away with eating with her hands? We were never allowed to do that." My father looked at Daniel over his glasses and delivered the ultimatum: "It's because Dina is the baby of the family, and Mama's favorite." We "kids" were all well into our thirties at the time. Who cooked in the family? As above, my mother, and on occasion Dad. As we grew older, one or another of the teenagers would sometimes take over a simple meal. Were restaurant meals common, or for special occasions? We ate at home on special occasions, but would eat at a restaurant once in a while, when Mom was tired of cooking or we just all felt like it. Did children have a "kiddy table" when guests were over? No, the children sat at the common table, unless it was some really big gathering, when peers spontaneously gathered into groups and sat together. When did you get that first sip of wine? Earlier than I can remember, on some Sabbath night. My parents didn't keep much table wine in the house till we moved to Israel. Here, with the abundance of good kosher wine available, it's natural to drink more, so we do. But Dad always had a bottle of slivovitz or grappa around, and on summer evenings the folks would make daiquiris. Was there a pre-meal prayer? We would say a blessing over the food before eating. My father would say the Grace after Meals. Was there a rotating menu (e.g., meatloaf every Thursday)? Nah. As my mother's work was in the house, she bought whatever was in season, and cooked accordingly. Except for when we were snowbound, which happened at least once every winter in Michigan. Then she of course had to cook out of cans and packages from the emergency stores in the cellar pantry. How much of your family culture is being replicated in your present-day family life? Most of it. The way I cook is more Mediterranean now, but many of the familiar, well-loved dishes, both Latin and North American, appear on my table regularly. My husband and children and I eat together as often as possible. My Dad is no longer with us, but Mom comes over almost every day for lunch. The siblings are scattered all over the States, but our international get-togethers are always centered around great cookings and carryings-on in the kitchen. Shabbat meals in my home are eaten the same way: with family and guests. My own grown children cook well, and all are thoughtful, critical eaters, even the nine-year-old. It must be in our genes.

My husband brought home some currants, prunes, and apricots, so I tucked the fruit under the marinated lamb, splashed more wine on, and baked that thang. Towards the end, I glazed the meat with wine and honey, and added steamed carrots to the general rich decadent sweet/pungent, fruit-thickened gravy at the bottom of the pan. It was good . For Shabbat I think I'll trim the leftover meat off the bones, dice it, add a modicum of mashed potatoes and gravy, and stuff potato starch blintzes with it. The American gefulte fish actually was pretty good in the end, having sat overnight so the flavors mellowed; the matzah balls were light and the Swiss-chard shepherd's pie a success. Did it all myself, darnit, although I spent the day wondering if I shouldn't have invited my 84-year-old Mom to participate in the preparation. Couldn't decide if she would have liked it, or would be happier not having to cook. Pan, what you said about how we do all this for family and friends sort of went past me when I first read it, and then last night when the remains of the Seder were finally cleared away and all made tidy again and I lay my head down on the pillow full of gratitude (and lamb)...it came back to me and put a warm feeling in my heart. Miriam

We checked the house for chametz and all I'm going to do before I quit for the day is marinate lamb in wine, garlic, rosemary blah blah blah...not very inspired, but the lady (pardon the rhyme) is tired. I would like to cook this lamb in my Passover tajine, with apricots; I guess the marinade won't hurt it any if I do decide to go that way. Today's work: Rendered the fat off two chickens and made shmaltz (aka Cholesterol Heaven). Well, for Pesach I have to make the matzah balls with shmaltz; the rest of the year I fake it with olive oil. Guilty goody: gribiness! Made the matzah ball batter; it will sit in the fridge overnight. Souped the soup with the two chickens. This has to be enough for Seder night and Shabbat too. Made potato starch noodles - does anyone else make them? I could do without them, but the kids like them better than matzah balls in soup. Fried small red fish (here they are called "barbunia") in olive oil and put them in a tomatoey sauce out of Claudia Roden's book. Thank Heavens for Keith Jarret; I listened to the Kohln Concert twice as I was frying them fish. Did the charoset; it came out a little too sweet. Fell back on the traditional recipe of ground walnuts, apples, cinnamon, honey and dates. The smell of the charoset brought back vivid memories of my late Dad, whose speciality it was, and I blended away with a few tears in my eyes. Well, I'm Jewish, after all...what's food cooked without love and memories and a little heartache? Makes everything taste better. Cooked gefulte fish - I cheated and bought an imported American whitefish loaf, and regret it. My own gefulte fish, made from fresh, ground carp, is better and not much work. Never mind, they'll eat it. Grated carrots and julienned cabbage for a light, mayo-free coleslaw: just olive oil, lemon juice, salt and a bissel sugar. Washed lettuce and parsley for the Seder plate. Tomorrow: fix the Seder plate. Cook the lamb. Pot roast a turkey roll for Yom Tov day. Do something with Swiss chard, spinach and potatoes (a kugel?). Hard-boil eggs...take a nap in the afternoon so I'll be relaxed and happy at the Seder table instead of tired and grouchy. In fact, the rule in the family is that everyone takes a nap right after lunch erev Pesach. Every year, the cleaning, shopping and cooking are anticipated well in advance: lists made and items checked off, phone calls made, last-minute errands done. By the time I sit down and open the Hagadah, I think I'm ready. And each year, the awareness that the supernatural event which occurred then is still happening. It is a quiet, dark, but live feeling, being poised on the spiral of history. We recite again the ancient words and retell the ancient story once more. I leave all thoughts of food and serving aside and focus on our/my deliverance from slavery and taking leave of Egypt to freedom...as if I myself had been there on that spring midnight, clutching my matzahs wrapped up in a clean cloth, heart full of awe and hope. May our troubles turn their true face, which is redemption, to us this year. Le Shana HaBa B'Yerushalayim HaBn'uyah. Miriam

Thank you, Melissa, for helping with the images. I'll learn how to do it right... Miriam

Shavua Tov, Shabbos Foodies Friday night we had: za'atar for dipping handmade chumus chicken stewed with carrots, sweet potatoes and prunes home-made couscous (my daughter's Moroccan mother-in-law taught us how) dessert was simply sliced strawberries with a little sugar sprinkled over them. Shabbat morning was less interesting: guacamole chicken shnitzels potato kugel cold broccoli salad tossed green salad of lettuce and aragula in vinaigrette carmelized turnips and onions http://forums.egullet.org/index.php?act=mo...md=si&img=49117 I'm still a bit clumsy posting images, so I'm hoping this uploads well... Miriam

This thread is a machiah... my husband keeps asking why I keep breaking into chuckles here at the computer Miriam

The English of Americans living outside the States for a long time tends to incorporate words from the new language, especially if there are small kids in the family, and yet fragrantly preserve English as it was spoken at the time they immigrated. One of my favorite old ladies last lived in NY about 60 years ago; she says "chiefly" very naturally, all the time. Never heard anyone else say that. So I, who left the US over 30 years ago, was unaware of the infiltration of "shmear" into the American vocabulary. To me, "shmear" still means simply to spread some semi-solid or liquid substance on a firm surface. You certainly shmear cream cheese on a bagel; or sunscreen all over your skin. I suppose that in moments of hubris (or gay abandon), one might shmear cream cheese all over one's skin as well. Miriam

Mike, I guess you have to be a champion to drink all night and then load your stomach down in the early morning with...cow's stomach stew. I never could eat menudo, back in my long-ago pre-kosher days. The mere smell of it would make me flee. Pan de cassave, now, I've eaten many times, and enjoyed it. True, it's dry, but it does have a very delicate taste of manioc. We used to spread a little butter over pieces of it and have it with our cafe con leche. I don't miss pan de cassave, but I'd love to eat an arepa once more (only kosher). Miriam

Menudo, or as it's known in Venezuela, mondongo. Erg, the memory of the smell is enough to make me feel like this: "Menudo, Breakfast of Champions"...excuse me (exiting quickly). Miriam

Melissa, that looks excellent, I saved that recipe. Hm, that would make a main dish all by itself, or could be the focus of the Yom Tov meal. The salt cod recipe on the same page reminded me of a Portuguese recipe for cod in parsley sauce which my parents learned to make when we lived in Brazil. Oy was that good. But I haven't seen salt cod here in years. Not a really attractive-looking fish...a stiff, salted plank, none too clean and hard to handle...but once soaked and prepared right, creamy and white and rich. But that Italian chicken matzah ball recipe - thank you, I think you've solved my Yom Tov meal problem. Miriam

This thread has been resting since the holidays have wound down, but going over it, I started thinking of food-related gifts I've given. First, wine, my own garagiste (apartmentiste?) wine. Which variety of wine I give depends on the recipient; some folks know to appreciate mead, some think only grapes make wine, some will happily quaff the fruit wines. And as I make wine, it follows that I (inadvertently) have made vinegar. Bottles of these vinegars, especially from prickly pear wine, go over well. Last summer I made 10 gallons of hard lemonade, couldn't keep it at home once it was ready. Home-made limoncello and vizniak also have permanent customers. Looks like the home brews and liqueurs are the backbone of my gift supply. The drink always look presentable, for I create pretty labels on my handy PC and glue them onto recycled and sparkling clean wine bottles. Herb butters, home-made cream cheeses flavored with garlic and herbs. People like those too, but some have complained of the high fat content in them, so I don't give those away anymore. My friends and family in the States like dried Persian lemons and Middle Eastern spices such as za'atar, Yemenite hawaj for soup, and Bucharian baharat for meat balls and stew. I went through a long phase of making spice mixtures myself, and the truth is, home-made is always better than the grocery-store varieties... but I have become lazy. I go to the shouk and pick out the little packages at my favorite hole-in-the-wall spice store. The single most appreciated food I've ever given away or received were pots of chicken soup. They were given to people in poor health and in need of support - ladies after birth, people too sick to eat anything else; given to me in the same situations. Those pots of soup were not holiday gifts, but said "I care" loud and clear, and that is in style any time. Miriam

I like to grate a little ginger into the matzah ball dough for piquancy. Matzah balls, no matter how light and fluffy, are a bland sort of experience; at least, so I find. Reading about matzah balls swimming in butter reminded me of how my mother's friend Sophy would smother freshly made matzah balls in onions which had been sauteed in chicken shmaltz, pouring plenty of the hot shmaltz over the whole dish, then grill them slightly in the oven. Talk about "heart attack on a plate" - fettuccine Alfredo's got nothin' over that. But delicious...sigh. Pass the red wine, maybe that'll keep the cholesterol under control for a while. Miriam

A little behind on this thread, for I fell sick right after my first post and just now am able to sit in front of the computer for a while. Change of weather in Israel, propitious to all kinds of respiratory tsuris! Melissa, those Epicurious recipes are very intriguing. I'm going for the Candied Walnut Charoset; a little different, but not too daring a departure from the traditional walnut-apple recipe we've always used. Cakewalk, that little story raised a chuckle. Reminds me of when we lived in Safed. In that small community, most doors are open to guests on Shabbat and Yom Tov, even - better said, especially - unexpected guests. We've had our share, and enjoyed them every time. We lived in a house about 120 years old, maybe older, and many were the stories attached to the original owners. The grandmother, I've heard, would prepare an immense pot of cholent every Friday and come Shabbat morning, would stand on the porch dispensing bowls full of the hot, savory food to the needy. Then there was the Nadvorner Rebbe, ah"s, who, together with his wife, re-created a Romanian shteibel like the one they left behind during the Holocaust, right there in the dry, Mediterranean hills of Safed. His wife and daughters would also prepare an immense Kiddush every week, always the same, home-baked challa and a rich, old-fashioned cholent with everything in it. Anyone was welcome to enter and eat. You would see great rabbis in their brocade Shabbat clothes sitting down at the same table with an American tourist in his sunglasses, passing the plate to an elderly and indigent hippy, or in earnest conversation with a modest working man. You never knew who you might meet at the Nadvorner Rebbe's. That rebbe and his wife are gone now, but their son, the present rebbe, continues their tradition. And I guess these memories are timely in this thread, for one of the first things we say during the Seder is, "This is the bread of poverty that our ancestors ate in Egypt. All who are hungry, come and partake of our feast...." All holidays are good for entertaining guests, but on Passover, I think, hospitality is sweetest. Miriam

Thank you all for your welcome. I'm looking forward to participating in this forum! Miriam

Hello, I'm Miriam, new at eGullet. I live in Israel and am observant, with only a small family to cook for as my grown-up kids have married and moved away. Shabbat and Yom Tov are usually myself, Husband, our nine-year-old daughter and my mom. I wish I had a crowd to cook for, as there so often was in the past, but life's changes demand flexibility, so I just say I'm happy with the reduced work load. It was a little sad, if truth be told, to realize that the great Seder spreads of the past are no longer appropriate to our smaller family. My husband and Mom don't enjoy a large meal at night, and our daughter would be happy with chicken soup and plenty of matzah to crumble into it, and some of the roast turkey. I cook to satisfy my own sense of adventure. The family just goes along happily most of the time; on holidays, though, they want no great deviation from the traditional menus. A little epiphany occurred to me this year. Our rabbis here admonish us balabustas (housewives) every year that the focus of the Seder is the re-telling of the Exodus from Egypt, not the quality of the cooking; that a family needs a relaxed, happy mother at the table, not an exhausted woman harried to death with spring-cleaning and the preparation of a huge variety of dishes. It has finally come home to me. Let us linger over the Hagaddah, and explain it in language the little one understands; let us enjoy the meal, certainly, and let us sing the traditional lively songs that keep tired children awake and interested. Some of the old tunes bring back sharp memories of departed loved ones; some make us smile as we remember incidents of past Seders. How about the time my sister and I almost dropped the huge roast turkey, and got hysterical laughing in the kitchen while Prince Charming, my dad's special guest and hopeful candidate for the hand of...well, either one of us...sat aghast in the dining room? Or the year Dr. K., our psychiatrist friend, hypnotised a 7-year-old me into believing that she saw the level of the wine in Eliyahu's silver cup actually dip down as the invisible, flying prophet visited our table and drank? I wouldn't touch that cup for years afterwards, creepily convinced that something ghostly had happened because of it. I guess that as one grows older there will be a ghost or two at every family celebration. This year, I will lean towards the door as my husband opens it and asks that God's wrath be poured upon our enemies - hoping, that if I'm lucky, I'll hear Eliyahu HaNavi's robes rustle as he slips in and takes a little sip out of the cup we've poured for him and placed in the center of the table. I'll tip him a wink and lift my glass to sip a little along with him. So what will the Seder menu be? Here in Israel there is only one Seder, of course. Let's see, it'll probably be something like this, on the light side: The traditional bites from the Seder plate; Chicken soup with potato-starch noodles, which are more popular than the matzah balls we eat all year anyway; Gefulte fish (I make it without matzah meal; could never understand the presence of matzah meal in gefulte fish recipes as the mixture stays firm in the simmering stock very nicely without it. Must be a hangover from times when the fish had to be stretched). A turkey cooked in a tajine pot I keep for Passover. Actually I have two tajines, one for all year round and one kosher for Passover. This year I'm departing from the usual savory roast bird stuffed with potato kugel, and plan to use apricots, prunes, dried pears, onions, honey, and wine vinegar, with just enough sweet potatoes to become undone in the cooking and bind the mixture slightly; Steamed artichokes served with herb-infused olive oil for dipping (I am wondering if my favorites, basil, garlic, cilantro and aragula, will clash with the sweet turkey); A big tossed green salad; Strawberry sorbet. Everyone here appreciates a light, refreshing dessert after the large meal. I have to think up a menu for the Yom Tov meal next day, but I will be less merciful towards stomachs filling up, and present some decadent and irresistable dessert. Hm, have to search through this thread more devotedly, there must be something wonderful here. And it looks like my first-ever post is book length, so I'll wish everyone enjoyable cooking and a happy Passover. Miriam

Dandelion Beer I used to make this beer starting late winter, when the first dandelion rosettes would pop up in the soggy ground, all through spring. It will foam up when poured out, but the head dissipates quickly. Don't expect it to be a fine beer, just enjoy it for what it is: a rough but tasty springtime homebrew and a real connection with nature's free bounty. 1. Wash a 1-gallon glass carboy, plastic fermentation bucket, or a large, food-grade plastic jug. It's important that this fermentation vessel should not be of metal, and be very clean, with no residue of former food or drink clinging to it, inside or out. Sanitize it with a mild bleach solution (rinse very well till no bleach odor is left) or a Campden tablet if you will - although I use Campden to sanitize my wines, I never did with this beer. 2. Put the sugar and the cream of tartar into the vessel. 3. Wash the dandelion, using any mixture of roots and leaves. Make sure to pluck out any flower stems; they are bitter and inedible. There is no need to peel the roots, just scrub the dirt off them. Chop the roots and leaves coarsely. 4. Simmer the dandelion material with the grated ginger, in all the water (you'll need a large pot, or split this step into two batches). Simmer for 10 minutes. 5. Funnel the liquor into the carboy, using cheesecloth to strain it, or strain and pour it into a jug. 6. Stir well to dissolve the sugar completely. 7. When the liquor is lukewarm, dissolve the yeast in water and add to the vessel. 8. Fit the airlock if fermenting in a carboy or fermentation bucket; if using a jug, cover it with a clean towel. This was my first homebrew recipe, and I had no dedicated beer- or wine-making equipment, so it was a clean towel for me. 9. All the beer to ferment three days. No need to stir it orinterfere with it in any way; just let it sit there and do its thing. Soon enough it will start to fizz away. 10. After three days, sterilize your bottles. Siphon the beer into them and cap. More confessions: sometimes I would keep this beer, for short-term storage, in sanitized plastic water bottles. Wait a week before opening. Chill thoroughly before opening. Enjoy! It's easy to get addicted to this brew. * Although I've used white sugar, I came to prefer the nutty taste contributed by dark brown sugar. ** A friend says that a darker, sweeter beer may be made by roasting the dandelion roots first. In terms of proportion, I would use roughly 50/50 roots and leaves. *** Yes, baker's yeast. If you have access to beer yeast, by all means, use it. But I never did, because there isn't any to be had here that I know of. And to tell the truth, I liked the idea of using the homeliest, least complicated ingredients and methods to make this country beer. ( RG1934 )