Candy cake
Kiss The Kosher Cook
By Malkie Hirsch
Ever get invited out to someone’s home for a Shabbos and marvel at how different their menu items are from your typical Shabbos fare? This is one of my favorite activities when visiting friends who are preparing their Shabbos menu or when out to lunch.
I sometimes (oftentimes) envy the variety of foods some ladies are able to make for their families. I’ve been to homes where the starter was tuna tartare—I could literally cry with joy. Don’t get me wrong. I’m so happy for them. They’re constantly challenged with their culinary abilities, while I’m standing over a stove frying schnitzel.
Speaking of my schnitzel-loving firstborn, he approached me last week and, in a most surprising way, declared:
“Mommy, my rebbe’s wife makes the most amazing kugel on Shabbos. It has apples and strawberries and it’s this crumble on top. It’s absolutely delicious!”
“You mean the strawberry-apple kugel I’ve been making off and on since you’ve been a baby, Dovid?”
“Oh, so you know about it? I tasted it and it’s delicious! It’s like a dessert, at the Shabbos meal!”
I’m gonna message my son’s rebbe and give him a list of foods I’d like for Dovid to try. Apparently, whatever his rebbe says is golden, and I plan on taking full advantage of it.
When I was a newlywed and didn’t know my way around the kitchen, I’d go visit my friend Riki, trying to absorb some of her vast cooking and baking knowledge. Riki grew up in Kfar Chabad, in a large family. I’m pretty sure they didn’t have Geffen Gourmet or Traditions in Kfar Chabad back when Riki was growing up, so making everything from scratch was par for the course. I’d sit at her table while Dovid played with one of Riki’s kids and just watch her make dip after dip after dip.
There was dip day, challah day, mains, sides, desserts. And we’re not talking just one dessert. More like a Viennese table at a wedding.
There were always several families at their table, plus the people who’d just show up. The table was a magic table. The more people that showed, the more room there would be. It was always comfortable, and Riki was always present at the table, eating, drinking, and enjoying with her company.
I decided I needed to be just like Riki.
Easier said than done.
Riki’s recipes are all written in Hebrew, which is an issue since my command of that language is mediocre at best. But really, a recipe is optional in Riki’s world. She’s one of those people who gives over a recipe like this:
“So, eh, you put the eggplant directly on the fire and char the skin until the eggplant is really wrinkly.”
“One second—you just put the eggplant directly on the fire? And you don’t burn the house down?”
“Mah pitom? How else are you going to make babaganoush?”
“Forget it. I’m calling Geffen.”
Or there was the time that I’d be in her house, working on a recipe and a dish would call for lemon juice.
“Riki, where’s the bottle of lemon juice? I don’t see any in the fridge.”
“Malkie, that’s because we get lemon juice from real lemons. We don’t use stuff from a bottle.”
Oh, snap.
I’ve picked up some amazing recipes from observing Riki cooking in her home. Sometimes, I’d drop in unannounced and she’d be caring for a baby upstairs, but I’d see all the burners on and there’d be food cooking. I’d run upstairs and tell her that things were sizzling and spitting and she’d say, “Eh, mix it. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
It was always more than fine. It was always amazing.
We were once invited to my friend Rivky’s house for a meal. She opened with a bunch of foods I’ve never eaten. While Dovid desperately searched the table for chicken nuggets, I was getting a tutorial on how to eat an artichoke. Possibly the most thrilling experience ever. But this was the norm over there. They ate artichokes all the time.
At Rina’s house, as I watched her start to serve her cholent, I noticed that there was a glass jar in the pot, filled with something. When I asked her about it, she said that it was something her family’s been doing for many years. She’d make a kugel batter and reserve some for this small glass jar.
Overnight kugel in the Crock-Pot. Pretty brilliant, especially when you want kugel and cholent, not one or the other.
There are things in every home that seem standard to the people living there and eating these things week after week.
My mother-in-law always makes cholent with canned potatoes. I didn’t do any cooking before I was married, so I took her lead and always have canned potatoes in my pantry for cholent. When people ask me for my cholent recipe, I always specify the canned potatoes. I think it’s a genius invention. Who wants to be peeling potatoes? Besides being absolutely adorable and uniformly shaped, I’ll take the ease of opening a can any day from breaking out my peeler.
In baking news, this past Shabbos was my 8-year-old Nison’s birthday. But he was invited to a playdate. When I mentioned that it was his birthday to the mom who invited him over, she embraced the opportunity to make him a little party with her boys and two other friends. It was above and beyond that she was doing this for Nison, and I wanted to bake him a cake that any 8-year-old boy would love and want to attack the moment he laid eyes on it. So, naturally, it was a candy cake. Licorice, gummy bears, sprinkles, lollipops . . . all of their favorite Shabbos treats atop a lemon pound cake with vanilla buttercream.
Happy Birthday, Nissy!
Malkie Hirsch loves to cook and shares her ideas freely on her Facebook group, Kiss The Kosher Cook. What’s sweeter than sugar and with fewer calories? Hearing from her readers. Feel free to write with questions, comments, and suggestions to koshercook@5tjt.com.