Matzo

Parve or Milchig Passover, with its flour ban, creates difficulties for even the most adept of bakers, and many people crave inspiration. Here are a series of traditional cakes, along with some new, more tempting ideas.

Parve Todd: To me, gefilte fish out of a jar is an abomination, but my version, basically an interpretation of the French quenelles be brochet, is cheftastic. Choosing between the two is a no-brainer, in my opinion (see Gefilte Fish: Jarred or Fresh? below). I prefer to use rockfish, otherwise known as sea bass, for gefilte fish because it is indigenous to the Chesapeake region. I blend it with pike and flounder, but you could use any combination of the three. Any white, non-oily fish will do for that matter. I've even made them with salmon; the light pink color makes a nice change of pace. It's best to poach the fish balls a day ahead of time so they can rest in their cooking liquid for several hours. They can be eaten cold, but Ellen and I like to serve them warm—they make a great, non-meat brunch entrée.

Smoked and fresh fish join forces in this much-appreciated update to the often-maligned gefilte fish. To get the job done faster, use two skillets.

Beef brisket is the centerpiece of many Jewish holiday meals, particularly at Passover, and every family has their favorite way of preparing it. There are countless recipes out there, but how many do you need besides your grandmother's? At least one more: This one!
Why? Because the meat is slowly braised in Pinot Noir, and the cherry notes in the wine pair brilliantly with dried tart cherries, which plump up with winey beef juices to become little mini-pouches of flavor on their own. Add to that a bit of star anise, which perfumes the brisket and your home with an exotic and enticing hint of licorice. Season the mixture with the sweet-and-sour agrodolce dance of brown sugar and balsamic vinegar, and you have a brisket that is at once counterintuitively familiar and wonderfully different. Like all braised meats, brisket improves in flavor, and slices more easily, if made a day ahead and chilled (see Cooks' Notes). Editor's Note: This recipe is part of Gourmet's Modern Menu for Passover. Menu also includes Quinoa and Asparagus Salad with Mimosa Vinaigrette and Amaretto Olive Oil Cake.

Brisket is the centerpiece of many holiday tables, but pot roast, cooked to succulent tenderness in a full-bodied braising liquid brightened with the tang of wine and tomato and enriched with a heady trio of cinnamon, bay leaf, and thyme is just as special without sacrificing tradition.

Rich with chocolate and studded with bits of toasted almonds with a faint coconut flavor, this heavenly dessert is a special finish to a holiday meal. Because the leavening comes from aeration, it is essential that the ingredients be at room temperature before assembling the batter.

The key to a delicious matzo ball soup is in the broth: lots of vegetables and aromatics, including slices of ginger root for a bit of heat, make a perfect vehicle for these matzo balls. Matzo balls can be a very personal thing: some like them light and fluffy, while others fall into the "hard as golf balls" camp. Filled with lots of fresh parsley and dill, these dumplings fall somewhere in between: not feather light, not too hard, but with just enough bite and presence to stand up to its flavorful broth.

Matzo is an unleavened bread, made with flour and water and traditionally served during Passover; matzo farfel is made from dried noodles that are broken into small pieces. Both can be found in kosher sections of grocery stores. Vegetable oil is used in place of butter, to keep the cookies nondairy.

Traditionally made with freshwater fish—carp, whitefish, and pike—this is just as good with fish from the sea. You can even mix in some darker fish, like bluefish and salmon, although it is not traditional. Equally untraditional is the food processor, which makes this formerly formidable job a snap. Good, strong horseradish is the essential accompaniment. Make this a day before you want to serve it.

When I was growing up, my mother would make a special treat of fried matzoh, or matzoh brei, during Passover. My sister and I always looked forward to it; it was even better than French toast, its fluffier cousin. Try making this in spring, when matzoh is easy to find in stores.

This classic charlotte or schaleth aux cerises is adapted from Françoise Tenenbaum, a deputy mayor in Dijon who is responsible, among other things, for bringing meals on wheels to the elderly poor. At a luncheon in the garden of a fifteenth-century building where the film Cyrano de Bergerac, with Gérard Depardieu, was filmed, Françoise described this Alsatian version of an apple, pear, or cherry bread pudding that she makes for her family. Starting with stale bread soaked in brandy, rum, kirsch, or the Alsatian mirabelle liqueur, it is baked in an earthen schaleth mold or, as Escoffier calls it, a “greased iron saucepan, or a large mold for pommes Anna.” Earlier recipes were baked in the oven, for 4 to 5 hours. Françoise bakes hers in a heavy cast-iron skillet or pot for less than an hour, at Passover substitutes matzo for the bread, and, except during cherry season, makes hers with apples.

Old cookbooks of Jewish families from Provence and descendants of the Juifs du Pape contain a famous dish combining spinach and morue (salt cod; see page 290). Morue is also blended with mashed potatoes to make brandade, a typical dish of the south of France. The preserved fish is rehydrated in milk or water, and then grilled, fried, or baked. Fritters were particularly common, and are still prevalent throughout Spain and Portugal. This recipe, a modern interpretation of a traditional salt-cod-and-potato brandade, was created by Chef Daniel Rose (see page 68). He uses fresh cod, salting it briefly to remove the excess moisture, seasons it with thyme and garlic, and then cooks it in milk and olive oil. Mixed with mashed potatoes and fried, the result yields a sort of latke that can be served as an appetizer, a side dish, or a main course, with the fennel-and-citrus salad on page 110.

Agar Lippmann, age eighty-two, is a living encyclopedia of Alsatian Jewish food. Born Agar Lippmann in a little town near Colmar, and raised in Bollwiller, she married another Lippmann (no kin) and moved to Lyon during World War II. When her son Henri opened a kosher catering company there almost thirty years ago, she started out helping in the kitchen, and has been helping him ever since. Now, using local chefs—some Jewish and some not—the two cater kosher events all over Lyon and as far away as Besançon, bringing their kosher pots and pans and sometimes portable ovens. For Passover they take over a hotel in nearby Aix-les-Bains, where French Jews can have their Seder while enjoying the baths. Today most of the Lippmanns’ cooking is North African and modern French. Only for the holidays do they make traditional Alsatian and Ashkenazic food for their clients. “At holidays, people come back to their roots,” she told me in her catering office, just steps away from the Grande Synagogue. Recipes like this savory matzo kugel predate noodle kugels in general, and certainly the noodle kugels we eat in America today. Although the original recipe called for veal fat, I substitute melted butter or vegetable oil.

It is common knowledge that Jews should usher in the Sabbath with a little bit of fish. But in the village in Poland from which Danielle’s mother hailed, they often could not get carp in the winter, because the lake was frozen. The story goes that the Jews thought they could make an arrangement with God to create falshe fish (Yiddish for “fake fish”). So they made meat patties, shaped in ovals or balls, depending on the family tradition, and simmered them in a broth with salt, sugar, pepper, and a little carrot, so they would look and taste like sweet-and-sour gefilte fish. “Because the intentions were good, the benevolent God agreed with the Jews and said that he would make believe that it was fish,” said Danielle. (In this recipe, sugar is used as a seasoning, as it was in past centuries.)

The recipe for these Knepfle, also known as quenelles de matzo or the more prosaic matzo balls, came from Madame Maryse Weil of Besançon, the late mother-in-law of my friend Nanou, French matzo balls, often called boulettes in French and Knödeln in German, are made from stale bread or matzo sheets, soaked in water and dried. These dumplings are neither as big as American matzo balls—they are the size of walnuts rather than golf balls—nor as fluffy, since no baking powder is used. Like many middle-class women in her day, Madame Weil rarely cooked but instead guided those who cooked in her kitchen. Her original recipe read, “Take as many eggs as goose fat. Mix well; add salt, pepper, and ginger and enough matzo meal so you can roll them.” Many of the old recipes, including this one, often substitute marrow for the goose fat. I prefer to cook the matzo balls in boiling salted water and then immediately transfer them with a slotted spoon to homemade chicken broth. This way I can make them in advance, and the soup remains clear.