Joan Nathan

Aranygaluska—also called golden dumpling cake, butter puffs, and monkey bread—has been extolled by Jewish immigrants from Hungary for years.

Turned out onto a platter and featured as one of many foods at a holiday buffet, this dish is always a big success. Even those who swear they would never eat gefilte fish come back for seconds, provided you serve horseradish sauce with it.

An adaptation of the tasty sauce from the short-lived Kutsher’s Restaurant in New York, perfect for Passover Seder.

This comforting vegetarian chickpea and lentil soup features warming spices and a hit of lemon juice.

THIS SABBATH RICE DISH, typical of Provence, reveals the history both ofpilauorpilaf, as it is called in French, and of Persian Jews who settled in the area near the Camargue, the rice-growing area of southwestern Provence located on the triangle of land between the two major tributaries of the Rhône River. Jews, first by barge and later by boat, used the river to bring goods here from the Mediterranean. The word and the dishpilaucome from Persia, taking various forms as the dish traveled around the world. In India, it becamepulao; in modern-day Iran, it is calledpolo; and in Provence,pelauorpilaf. Rice, and therefore pilaf, traveled with the Jews to Provence, where many Persian Jewish merchants and scholars settled and lived until the end of the fourteenth century or even later. These Jews, who traded rice, cooked it for the Sabbath with fragrant spices like nutmeg, garlic, cumin, cinnamon, and saffron. Some scholars believe that Jews brought saffron to Europe from Asia Minor for their Sabbath rice. The late Karen Hess, author of The Carolina Rice Kitchen, repeatedly told me that Jews first brought rice to the Camargue. In theirInventory of the Culinary Patrimony of France, Philip and Mary Hyman relate that emigrants from the Piedmont paid adîmeof rice to noblemen in the year 1497. And althoughpilauandriz au safranare no longer particularly Jewish dishes in Provence, they are clearly rooted in the Sabbath tradition. This simple recipe is typically eaten on Rosh Hashanah, alongside a symbolic whole roasted fish with a Sephardic sweet-and-sour greengage-plum sauce.

MOROCCAN COOKS USUALLY MAKE this tasty salad with Swiss chard, but I have seen it also with beet leaves. Eaten all year round, it is prepared by Moroccans on Rosh Hashanah for their Sephardic Seder, when they say a series of blessings over squash, leeks, dates, pomegranates, black-eyed peas, apples, the head of a fish or a lamb, and Swiss chard and beet greens.

Brandy, cinnamon, and lemon zest combine to give this tart unbelievable aroma and wonderful flavor.

当我还是一个学生在法国,玫瑰Minkel是一个fixture at Friday night dinners at my friend Nanou’s home. Called Mémé, an endearing term for “Grandmother,” she brought with her the recipes from her family’s native Metz, a city in the province of Lorraine with a long Jewish presence. Though the Jews had been in Metz for many generations (some say the first Jews settled there in 221 C.E.), up until the eighteenth century they lived a very different life from non-Jews in the town. They paid extra taxes on meat, wines and liqueurs, and other provisions. It was easy to spot a Jew on the street, because the men wore yellow hats to distinguish them from the black-hat-wearing gentiles. But over time they did assimilate, and already at the beginning of the eighteenth century, the Jews of Metz began to speak French instead of Yiddish. One Rosh Hashanah recipe that I remember most fondly was this simple roast chicken with peeled apple quarters, cinnamon, sugar, and wine.

The following carrot cake perfectly illustrates the evolution of baking techniques over the last hundred years. Prior to 1850 in Europe, the leavening of baked goods depended on yeast or sour milk and baking soda. Cream of tartar was another possibility but was imported from Italy. With the invention of baking powder or monocalcium phosphate in the United States in 1869, immigrant Eastern European women quickly learned new ways to make cakes. Prior to the advent of baking powder, this particular cake was probably denser than it is today. The eggs may have been separated and the whites beaten stiff, with cream of tartar added, to make the cake rise a bit higher. The cream cheese frosting is certainly a twentieth-century addition.

约瑟夫·Wechsberg的mouthwateri鱼丸)ng description is unfortunately a dish of the past. Today, most people buy frozen or bottled brands. Good cooks, however, insist on preparing the homemade variety for Friday night and the holidays. My late mother-in-law, Peshka Gerson, made it twice a year, at Passover and Rosh Hashanah. She used her mother's recipe, handed down orally, from Zamosc, Poland. Her only concession to modernity was making individual patties rather than stuffing the filling back into the skin as described by Wechsberg. In addition, her filling was less elaborate. Years ago, when I asked Peshka for her recipe, two of her sisters-in-law were present. They all agreed that the rule of thumb is one pound of fat fish to one pound of thin. They also preferred the Polish custom of adding a little sugar. (Lithuanians say sugar is added to freshen already unfresh fish. Needless to say, Lithuanians do not add sugar to their gefilte fish.) Peshka, Chuma, and Rushka disagreed, however, on the seasonings. Chuma insisted on more salt, and Rushka explained that a little almond extract would do the trick. They both took me aside, promising to show me the "real" way to make gefilte fish. I have used their two suggestions as variations on Peshka's basic recipe. Make your fish Lithuanian or Polish, with sugar or without, but just remember—it's the carrots and horseradish that really count! I have been making this recipe since the mid-1970s. The only difference is that I cook the fish for twenty minutes. My mother-in-law cooked it for two hours!

Have you ever visited the marketplace of Jerusalem and noticed small wooden imprinted molds with handles? To be sure, the merchant is hard put to explain their significance. They are ma'amoul molds. Ma'amoul means "filled" in Arabic, and these molds make filled cookies eaten by Jews and Arabs throughout the Middle East, especially in Syria, Lebanon, and Egypt. A piece of short-pastry dough the size of a walnut is pressed into the crevices of the ma'amoul mold. A tablespoon of date or nut filling is inserted, and you close the pastry with your fingers. Holding the handle of the wooden mold, you slam it on the table, letting the enclosed dough fall out. On the top of the cookie is a lovely design. After baking and rolling in confectioners' sugar, the design stands out even more. Of course, the ma'amoul mold is not necessary to the preparation of these sweets, though it certainly adds to their beauty. The tines of a fork, tweezers with a serrated edge, or a tool of your own devising will do quite well. The following ma'amoul recipe came from Aleppo to the Syrian Jewish community on Ocean Parkway, Brooklyn. These cookies are served at Purim. A similar cookie, called karabij here (nataife in Syria), topped with marshmallow fluff, is also served at Purim. Arasibajweh—rolled cookies from the same dough and stuffed with dates—are served at the New Year or Hanukkah.

In 1930, Simon Agranat, the chief justice of the Israeli Supreme Court, wrote to his aunt and uncle in Chicago: "I had my eighth successive egg meal during my three-day journey through the Emek (the valley)." Eggs have always been a main protein for the people in Israel. When I lived in Jerusalem, I would make for my breakfast—or even for dinner—scrambled eggs with sauteed spring onions, fresh herbs, and dollops of cream cheese melted into the eggs as they were cooking. Probably the most popular egg dish in Israel isshakshuka, one of those onomatopoeic Hebrew and North African words, meaning "all mixed up." The most famous rendition of this tomato dish, which is sometimes mixed with meat but more often made in Israel with scrambled or poached eggs, is served at the Tripolitana Doktor Shakshuka Restaurant in Old Jaffa. Doktor Shakshuka, owned by a large Libyan family, is located near the antique market in an old stone-arched building with colorful Arab-tiled floors. "When I was a young girl at the age of ten I liked to cook," said Sarah Gambsor, the main cook of the restaurant and wife of one of the owners. "My mother told me that I should marry someone who has a restaurant." And she did just that. Mrs. Gambsor, a large woman who clearly enjoys eating what she cooks, demonstrated that the dish starts with a heavy frying pan and tomato sauce. Then eggs are carefully broken in and left to set or, if the diner prefers, scrambled in as they cook. Theshakshukais then served in the frying pan at the table.

Editor's note:The recipe and introductory text below are excerpted from Joan Nathan's book 今天以色列的食物.Nathan also shared some helpful cooking tips exclusively with Epicurious, which we've added at the bottom of the page. To read more about Nathan and Israeli cuisine,click here.I remember with pleasure the Turkish Spinachburekaswe ate every Friday morning when I worked in the Jerusalem municipality. The ritual was as follows: Simontov, the guard at the front door downstairs, would appear carrying a bronze tray with Turkish coffee and the heavenly, flaky pastries filled with spinach or cheese, calledfilikasin Ladino. It is rare today to have such deliciousburekas,in Jerusalem or anywhere else in Israel. Most of the dough is commercially produced puff pastry, much thicker and less flaky than the homemade phyllo used to be. A few places, like Burekas Penzo in Tel Aviv (near Levinsky Street), which has been making the pastries by hand in the Turkish style for more than thirty years, produce a close second to those I remember from my days in Jerusalem. Various Ladino names likebulemasandboyosdifferentiate fillings and distinguish a Jewishburekafrom a Turkish one. If you can find the thick phyllo dough, that works well. Otherwise, try this. My fifteen-year-old makes and sells them for fifty cents a piece. They are great!

Every Israeli has an opinion about falafel, the ultimate Israeli street food, which is most often served stuffed into pita bread.

Editor's note:The recipe and introductory text below are excerpted from Joan Nathan's book 今天以色列的食物. _Nathan also shared some helpful cooking tips exclusively with Epicurious, which we've added at the bottom of the page. Almost every restaurant in Israel features turkey schnitzel on the menu. Most homemakers buy it breaded and frozen and serve it preceded by hummus, tahina, and other salads for a quick main meal. As I went from table to table throughout Israel, I found the dish to be more or less the same, prepared with spice combinations that vary depending on the ethnic background of the cook. Yemenite Jews, for example, add garlic, cumin, turmeric, cardamom, andhawayij.Polish cooks often use matzoh meal. A classic schnitzel includes both butter and oil, which has been changed to just oil in Israel. Even in remote corners of Latin America, restaurants try to woo Israeli travelers by putting up signs in Hebrew saying WE HAVE SCHNITZEL._

Editor's note:The recipe and introductory text below are excerpted from Joan Nathan's book 今天以色列的食物.Nathan also shared some helpful cooking tips exclusively with Epicurious, which we've added at the bottom of the page. To read more about Nathan and Israeli cuisine,click here.According to the Ten Commandments, "On the seventh day thou shalt rest," which means that no cooking can be done on the Sabbath. This tradition is the reason Israel is truly the center of the world forcholent,an overnight stew. Almost all Jewish families have brought their own unique versions — with Hungarian smoked goose breast, Brazilian black beans, Moroccan rice, Bukharan turkey giblets and raisin-stuffed cucumbers, or Polish barley and meat. A dish that has experienced a rebirth even among secular Israelis in the last few years,cholentis often served as a centerpiece main course for parties, usually blending several traditions in one exciting creation. Eons ago, needing a dish that could be kept warm for the Sabbath, Jewish cooks came up with an overnight stew, the ingredients for which varied depending on where they lived. The stew was tightly sealed, often with a paste-like dough, and cooked before the Sabbath began, then left overnight in the embers to warm until the next day. During World War II, before Israelis had proper ovens, thecholentoften was simmered over the small flame of a kerosene stove, the lid covered with two heavy bricks. The word cholent comes from the Frenchchaud,meaning "warm," andlent,meaning "slow." In Israel, it is also calledhamim,Hebrew for "warm." Like outdoor grilling, preparingcholentseems to have become the Israeli man's domain. It is served on every Israeli army base on Saturday, even in small military units on their own at lookout posts throughout the country, since the army, which officially observes the dietary laws, must serve a traditional Sabbath meal. This Hebronitehamimrecipe was given to me by Amnon Lipkin Shachak, a former Israeli army chief of staff. He combines the Ashkenazic basic beans and barley with Sephardic sausages and the long-cooking eggs in their shells calledhuevos haminadavto make an innovative Sabbath dish from Hebron, the city from which part of his family hails. According to him, the recipe changes each time he makes it, depending on what he can find in the cupboard. This version requireskishke(a traditional delicacy made of flour and fat stuffed into sausage casing, today obtainable from Jewish specialty stores) and the robust and highly aromatic eastern Mediterranean spice combination ofbaharat(see Tips, below).

Editor's note:The recipe and introductory text below are excerpted from Joan Nathan's book 今天以色列的食物.Nathan also shared some helpful cooking tips exclusively with Epicurious, which we've added at the bottom of the page. To read more about Nathan and Israeli cuisine,click here.Sometimes called Turkish Salad, this typical Israeli salad, served at almost every meal, has many variations. But one thing remains the same: the tomatoes, onions, peppers, and cucumbers must be cut into tiny pieces, a practice of the Ottoman Empire. Two types of cucumber are common in Israel: one, like the Kirby cucumber, goes by the name ofmelafofonin Hebrew andkhiyarin Arabic; the other, calledfakusin Arabic, is thinner, longer, and fuzzy, and is eaten without peeling.

(Uborkasalata)With little or no refrigeration and often only impure water available until the twentieth century, ordinary people did not risk eating fresh vegetables that couldn't be peeled or shelled. Cucumber, beet, or cabbage salads were about the only ones used in Eastern Europe, and cooked salads featuring eggplant or broiled peppers were served in many Mediterranean countries. Lettuce, the base of most crisp salads we eat today, had to be cleaned in sterilized water and eaten immediately.

Thistsimmescreated by Chef Lenard Rubin of the Phoenician Club in Phoenix, Arizona, is so good that I sometimes serve it alone without stuffing it into the chilies.

Jews from Persia (present-day Iran) are especially proud of Queen Esther's role in the holiday of Purim. A favorite dish of Iranian children is halvah, which they eat after they break the fast of Esther, observed on Adar 13. At nursery school, Merissa learned this recipe for halvah from an Iranian teacher. In between tastes, the children played with Esther and Ahasuerus marionettes they had made with the help of their teacher.