Le 6 décembre en Alsace on mange des Mannele ces petits pains au lait en forme de bonhomme qui évoquent la St Nicolas. Le 6 décembre pour moi c’est la date de naissance de Léon mon grand-père maternel,...
Jews across the world are sitting down to a big meal before Friday's Yom Kippur fast. And many of them are eating kreplach. Some say these strange-sounding-yet-good-tasting dumplings are a holiday meditation on our inner and outer selves.
Un gâteau aux betteraves avec un glaçage au cream chees et pas de colorant
Tu connais le carrot cake ? Là c’est une version à base de betteraves rouges bien sucrées. Une version sans colorant ajouté pour ne pas abîmer ton petit corps. Après si tu veux qu’il soit rouge tu peux l’appeler Red Velvet
Michael Ruhlman admits that it takes a certain amount of chutzpah for a non-Jew to tackle a topic like schmaltz—the onion-scented rendered chicken fat that powers traditional Ashkenazi Jewish cuisine. But that is exactly what the food writer did in The Book of Schmaltz: A Love Song to a Forgotten Fat, a digital cookbook he published for the iPad last month with his wife, photographer Donna Turner Ruhlman
I can’t remember the day I became aware of herring. It would be like remembering the moment I knew there were such things as trees or hands. Nor can I pinpoint the first time I took note of my father’s Saturday morning herring routine. But I do know that by the age of consciousness, I could expect Saturday mornings to unfold this way: My father would get dressed, go downstairs, open the refrigerator door, take out a shallow plastic container, and carefully open the lid to remove three or four pieces of pink, shimmering, oily herring, which would slide and wriggle onto his plate as if they’d just been plucked from chilly waters off Scandinavia. And just as consistent as my father’s routine was the way my mother, my siblings, and I would react: with a combination of horror, disgust, and mimed gestures of gagging.
Comme quoi il n'est jamais trop tard pour découvrir que le hareng te rend meilleur.
Le décompte des sept semaines ente Pessah et Chavouot se termine, il est temps de vous parler des traditions culinaires de cette fête riche de sens et de saveurs.
Au pays de Candy En Ashkénazie de l’Ouest (Alsace) les traditions culinaires tournent bien entendu autour des produits laitiers puisqu’il est d’usage d’en consommer pour cette fête en référence » à la terre ou coule le lait et le miel », des pains et pâtisseries en référence à Ruth la Moabite qui glanait les moissons, dont la Meguillah est lue pour Chavouot et d’autres mets blancs symbolisant la pureté.
The Oma & Bella Cookbook is a collection of recipes from Eastern- Europe, as told to Alexa Karolinski by her grandmother Regina (Oma) and her best friend Bella. Oma and Bella's recipes, classics of Jewish cuisine, come from decades of them recreating --from memory -- the tastes of their childhoods the war. To bring this vivid and personal cookbook into being, Alexa cooked with Oma and Bella in their kitchen, translating "handfuls" into half cups, "pinches" into teaspoons, and "platefuls" into servings. Color illustrations by the artist Joana Avillezare interspersed throughout the cookbook. The book also includes color photographs of the two ladies by Bella Lieberberg. Each book includes both German and English texts.
The word cholent likely comes from the French chaud-lent, meaning “warm slowly.” Joan Nathan said the original dish probably started in ancient Israel as chamim, where it was cooked with lamb and chickpeas, and then migrated to France and the rest of Europe. “When the Jews left Spain [during the Inquisition] and went to Eastern Europe,” she told me, “this dish was changed from lamb and goat to beef and barley, and eventually potato replaced the chickpeas, and cholent as we know it was born.” Because my ancestors are from Eastern Europe, our family’s cholent, like many Ashkenazis’, consists of beans, barley, meat, and potatoes flavored with salt and pepper.