Jewish Food Quotes

“Once I've coated the parsnips in a honey-saffron glaze, Rachel helps me plate them alongside the brisket, stuffed cabbage, and sweet potato tzimmes, and we carry the plates out to the dining room together.
"Let me explain a little about tonight's dinner," I say, addressing the softly lit faces around the table, which is covered with flickering votives and tapered candles. I launch into a description of the Jewish New Year and the symbolism behind all of the food: how the honey represents the hope of a sweet new year, how the challah is round instead of braided to represent the circle of life, how my grandmother used to make stuffed cabbage on every possible occasion because it reminded her of her Hungarian mother. I tell them lots things- about food, about my bubbe, about me- and to my surprise, they actually pay attention. They hang on my every word and ask intelligent questions and make thought-provoking points of their own. And I realize, hey, these are people who get it, people who love to eat and talk about food and culture as much as I do. Most of them aren't Jewish, but that doesn't matter. Every family has its traditions. Every family has a story to share. That's the point of this dinner- to swap stories and histories and see how food can bring people together.”
― Dana Bate, The Girls' Guide to Love and Supper Clubs

“According to legend , the Israelites were doomed to starvation but were saved by food called 'manna' in the form of coriander seed that came from the heavens. The manna fell during the night on dew, which encased and protected the seeds until morning when they could be gathered and ground into flour, which was used to bake a sweet bread. A double portion fell on Friday so that there was enough to bake bread for that day as well as for Saturday, the Sabbath, when no manna fell.”
― Martin K. Gay, Encyclopedia of North American Eating & Drinking Traditions, Customs, and Rituals

“Her reputation as a cook spread without her knowledge- for the soups she brought to the bakery in a lidded tin for her midday meal, for her stews, for the scraps of dough that she turned into what the Russians called pelmeni and the Jews kreplach, dumplings stuffed with chopped meat and onions. She prepared hot borscht with beef in winter, shchi or cold borscht in summer, chicken cooked with prunes or a tsimmes with sweet potatoes, carrots and prunes.”
― Eleanor Widmer, Up from Orchard Street

“I loved the counter filled with lox, whitefish, sturgeon. Saperstein looked like a sturgeon, long, white, sharp-toothed. I marveled at the way he wielded his razor-sharp knife. Cutting a bit of translucent smoked sturgeon, you expected it to shred if you breathed on it.
Manya achieved status as his sturgeon expert. She had grown up with sturgeon, a staple along the Black Sea, and she pronounced a sample too salty, too mealy from being packed in ice, too strong in flavor, or absolutely perfect. Saperstein, a purist, inevitably felt sad that his customers did not truly appreciate his top-of-the-line products. He communed with Bubby over a slice of sturgeon or belly lox as if having a religious moment.
Even when bad weather kept customers away from our restaurant and we were low in cash, Bubby invested in a few slices of smoked sturgeon, not for her customers, but for our family. She could ignore lox, smoked whitefish, pickles or fresh herring, but she couldn't do without a weekly treat of sturgeon. To prove that he was a sporting man who approved of her taste, Saperstein created a cone from white paper and dropped in some caviar, which he kept in a tin secreted in a hole under the counter- God forbid during a robbery, the thieves would never discover his hiding place.”
― Eleanor Widmer, Up from Orchard Street

“My bubbe's holiday dinners were legendary, the tables overflowing with platters of brisket and tzimmes, stuffed cabbage and potato knishes, blintzes and kugel and fat loaves of challah. Ever since she died eight years ago, our holiday celebrations have splintered into quiet, nuclear affairs, and this year, with my parents in London, we aren't even getting together. But I miss her cooking, the way her tender brisket melted on the tongue, the way her stuffed cabbage hugged the fragrant beef filling tightly and always tasted both a little sweet and a little sour.”
― Dana Bate, The Girls' Guide to Love and Supper Clubs

“Red and white wine/Manischewitz cocktails
Apple cider challah/homemade date honey
Potato and apple tart with horseradish cream
Old-Fashioned braised brisket with tomatoes and paprika
Tzimmes duo: Honeyed parsnips with currants and saffron,
sweet potatoes with dried pears and prunes
Stuffed cabbage
Mini Jewish apple cakes with honeycomb ice cream

"What's the difference between 'Jewish apple cake' and regular apple cake?" Rachel asks.
I shrug. "Not sure. Maybe the fact that it's made with oil instead of butter? I think it's a regional thing.”
― Dana Bate, The Girls' Guide to Love and Supper Clubs

“Hanukkah, Oh Hanukkah, let's light the menorah, let's wipe out all divide, even if some call it utopia. Come one, come all, no matter the culture, let's stuff some latkes while we dreidel together.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Giants in Jeans: 100 Sonnets of United Earth

“But my own style, I'd say, is more homestyle, with Jewish influences? Not kosher cooking; that's a different thing. I'm inspired by traditional Jewish cuisine."
Paper rustled on the other end. "Right, the matzah ball ramen you cooked in your video looked fantastic. We were all drooling in the room!"
I perked up. Forgot that I was naked. Forgot that lately I was a walking disaster. "That's one of my go-tos and will definitely be on my future menu. I've been experimenting lately with putting a spin on kugels..."
As I chattered on, I could practically see my grandma shaking her head at me. Grandma Ruth had cooked up a storm for every Passover, Yom Kippur, and Chanukah, piling her table till it groaned with challah rolls, beef brisket in a ketchup-based sauce, and tomato and cucumber salad so fresh and herby and acidic it could make you feel like summer in the middle of winter.”
― Amanda Elliot, Sadie on a Plate

“She'd make all the ingredients individually for her kimchi-jjigae," he went on. "Anchovy stock. Her own kimchi, which made the cellar smell like garlic and red pepper all the time. The pork shoulder simmering away. And when she'd mix it all together..." He trailed off, tipping his head back against the seat. It was the first movement he'd made over the course of his speaking; his hands rested still by his sides. "It was everything. Salty, sour, briny, rich, and just a tiny bit sweet from the sesame oil. I've been trying to make it for years, and mine has never turned out like hers."
My anxiety manifestation popped up out of nowhere, hovering invisibly over one off Luke's shoulders. The boy doesn't know that the secret ingredient in every grandma's dish is love. He needs some more love in his life, said Grandma Ruth, eyeing me beadily. Maybe yours. Is he Jewish?
I shook my head, banishing her back to the ether. "I get the feeling," I said. "I can make a mean matzah ball soup, with truffles and homemade broth boiled for hours from the most expensive free-range chickens, and somehow it never tastes as good as the soup my grandma would whip up out of canned broth and frozen vegetables."
Damn straight, Grandma Ruth said smugly.
Didn't I just banish you? I thought, but it was no use.
"So is that the best thing you've ever eaten?" Luke asked. "Your grandma's matzah ball soup?"
I shook my head. I opened my mouth, about to tell him about Julie Chee's grilled cheese with kimchi and bacon and how it hadn't just tasted of tart, sour kimchi and crunchy, smoky bacon and rich, melted cheese but also belonging and bedazzlement and all these feelings that didn't have names, like the dizzy, accomplished feeling you'd get after a Saturday night dinner rush when you were a little drunk but not a lot drunk because you had to wake up in time for Sunday brunch service, but then everything that happened with Derek and the Green Onion kind of changed how I felt about it. Painted over it with colors just a tiny bit off.
So instead I told him about a meal I'd had in Lima, Peru, after backpacking up and down Machu Picchu. "Olive tofu with octopus, which you wouldn't think to put together, or at least I wouldn't have," I said. The olive tofu had been soft and almost impossibly creamy, tasting cleanly of olives, and the octopus had been meaty and crispy charred on the outside, soft on the inside.”
― Amanda Elliot, Sadie on a Plate

“And I've never been all that passionate about brunch food in general."
My mouth dropped open. "Then clearly you've never had good brunch food."
He raised an eyebrow, obviously amused. That tiny gesture made something hot tweak below my stomach. Down, girl. "I've eaten brunch at some of the best restaurants in the world."
"But not from my kitchen," I countered. Now it wasn't so much about caring about how he felt: it was about proving I was right. "Come on. We're going to make a full Ashkenazi breakfast spread. I'm talking blintzes. I'm talking challah French toast. I'm talking bagels and lox and shakshuka. I'm talking matzah brei."
"I've never heard of that last one."
"See? You have never had a good brunch.”
― Amanda Elliot, Sadie on a Plate

“As much as I really wanted to give the judges my take on gefilte fish (which was and is SO much better than that slimy, mealy garbage you get in the jar), obviously, that wasn't going to work for a vegetarian challenge. So what did I have up my----latkes! Of course. I hadn't made latkes yet. And I could easily gussy them up. I made an excellent version with parsnips to go with the normal potatoes and onions. I could make a fancy cream to complement it, and homemade cranberry applesauce, and make sure the edges were perfectly lacy and crisp...”
― Amanda Elliot, Sadie on a Plate

“How about lamb? I hadn't done anything with lamb yet, which was surprising, because it was one of my favorite meats. Lamb it is, then.
Being in a restaurant kitchen and having to get dish after dish out, I probably didn't want to spend a lot of time pan-searing lamb to order. Too easy to get stuck in the weeds. So what if I braised it? In red wine, the way Grandma Ruth used to, and with spices like cinnamon and coriander and ginger, the way... well, not the way my grandma used to, but the way Sephardic Jews---whose ancestors had lived in Spain and North Africa during the Diaspora---did? Sephardic Jews also liked to pair meat with fruits. Dried fruits like apricots and prunes would be meltingly delicious cooked in the wine with the lamb; my mouth was watering just thinking about it. It would need some spiced couscous to soak up all those delicious juices, and maybe something salty. I had sweet, sour, umami, and bitter, so maybe something salty. Something pickled? Pickled cherries could make the whole dish pop.”
― Amanda Elliot, Sadie on a Plate

“I really want my roots to come through in this meal," I said, very conscious of the cameras filming everything I was saying. "I want to make sure viewers and diners"----and investors, please, especially investors----"see everything that the food of my ancestors can be. That Jewish food isn't just matzah ball soup and pastrami sandwiches."
So it was with that attitude I went about planning my menu. "I'm thinking my first dish is going to be a tribute to my grandmother," I said. "She was very into chopped liver. I hated it as a kid, for good reason: her chopped liver was bland and gritty." Grandma Ruth hissed in my ear, but I ignored her. "I want to make good chopped liver on good bread with something vinegary and acidic to cut through it. Maybe some kind of pickled fruit, because the judges really loved my pickled cherries in the last round."
"How about kumquats?" suggested Kaitlyn. "Or gooseberries?"
"I like gooseberries," said Kel.
I made a note. "We'll see what they have at the store, since we'll be on a budget. With the second course, Ashkenazi cooking has so many preserved and sometimes weird fish dishes. Think gefilte fish and pickled herring. I've wanted to do my special gefilte fish this whole competition and never got a chance, so I think now's the time."
"If not now, when?" Kel said reasonably.
"Indeed. And I think coupling it with pickled herring and maybe some other kind of fish to make a trio will create something amazing. Maybe something fried, since the other two parts of the dish won't have any crunch. Or I could just do, like, a potato chip? I do love potatoes." I made another note. "And for the third dish, I'm thinking duck. I want to do cracklings with the duck skin and then a play on borscht, which is what the dish is really about. Beets on the plate, pickled onions, an oniony sauce, et cetera."
"Ducks and beets play well together," Kel said, approval warm on their round face.”
― Amanda Elliot, Sadie on a Plate

“Kaitlyn's bread was still hot coming out of the oven; it emitted the most heavenly steam as she sliced into the golden crust. "The liver!" she called. Kel and I swarmed her, schmearing slices of toasted bread with the chopped chicken liver made with schmaltz---chicken fat---spicy and smoky with paprika and za'atar, and sweet with blackened, almost burned caramelized onions. I topped it with fried leeks and some microgreens.”
― Amanda Elliot, Sadie on a Plate

“I stopped in front of my new building, a thrill of pride running through me at the sight. The sight was bright and clear and elegant: Wander. Because my people had wandered all around the world for thousands of years of the Diaspora, picking up local culinary traditions and incorporating them into our own. Even if my menu had taken the incorporation in a more daring direction----some of the dishes I was most excited about were the brisket ramen and the kimchi chopped liver, a play on my finale appetizer but with Korean influences. Luke had helped me with that. It was the one dish that sat on both of our menus.”
― Amanda Elliot, Sadie on a Plate

“The light of the festival doesn't come from candles,
The sweetness in the air doesn't come from treats.
The light and sweetness of these joyful festivities,
Rise from the loving streams of our heartbeats.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Giants in Jeans: 100 Sonnets of United Earth

“You know why most menorahs nowadays have nine branches even though Hanukkah lasts eight days! It is to hold the ninth candle that sacrifices itself to light up the lives of those lamenting in darkness.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Yarasistan: My Wounds, My Crown

“I loved these little teasers before a meal, things I didn't have to order but just came to me like gifts from heaven.
These amuse-bouches actually looked like little gifts; they were small pouches of dough that twisted at the top and came to a gleaming golden-brown ruffle. They actually looked kind of familiar. "These were on Chef Supreme!" I said. I took a quick picture. "I wonder if they've got a sauerkraut and potato filling, like the ones Chef Sadie made on the show." I bit into it. The wrapper crunched and then relaxed into a nice doughy chew, almost like a very thin pizza crust. Sure enough, the interior was plush and buttery with a smooth potato puree but also zingy with fermented cabbage, the sour shreds of leaf providing a perfect contrast to the richness of the potatoes and the crust. "Remember when I told you there was no such thing as too much potato?" A mustard seed popped between my teeth, spicy. I finished with the ruffle on top, brown and shatteringly crunchy. "It's still true.”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“The chopped liver was smooth but just a little grainy, rich but with just a slight iron tang. The kimchi was sour and tart and crunchy and a little fishy, clearly the real thing. Piled together on a toasted slice of baguette and with a little extra richness from homemade mayo, it was an excellent bite.
But not one that photographed all that well. Sure, the kimchi was bright red and pretty, splayed out like phoenix feathers, but the chopped liver was brown and mushy. I didn't think liver would get me all that many hits. Something that also tasted good but didn't photograph very well: the bite-size orbs of gefilte fish, the puree of who-knows-what soft and smooth, its pearly grayness flecked with orange bits of carrot. At least the vibrant beet and cardamom pickle on top, reminiscent of horseradish, looked nice.”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“I pulled over my half of the latke appetizer. It seemed pretty simple, a lacy-edged potato pancake fried until plush in the middle and golden-brown around the crispy edges. Like nachos, the toppings were what really made it. The chef had played off the traditional latke toppings of applesauce and sour cream (#teamapplesauceforever), pairing her potato latkes with a spicy apple chutney, with chunks of both meltingly sweet cooked apples and crunchy tart raw apples, and a thick cucumber raita that reminded me of sour cream.”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“But I also watched him closely, waiting to see that love of food. The surprised delight on his face when he took his first slurp of the brisket ramen, enjoying the tender shreds of savory meat, the chew of the crinkly noodles, the light but complex broth that hid the reveal of a plush matzah ball with a thick corn flavor. The concentration as he tried to place the flavor of the rub on the bowl of shredded carnitas that we portioned out ourselves and wrapped in marbled rye tortillas with tiny sour pickles and thinly sliced red onions and shreds of Havarti cheese. ("It's a pastrami sandwich," he murmured as he took the first bite.) The sheer pleasure as he closed his eyes while chewing the duck, rosy and meaty in the middle and crispy-skinned on the outside, in one perfect bite with pickled and fresh beets.
I didn't have to look hard. It radiated out of his very soul.”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“You really can't go wrong with the food at any Jewish holiday. Well, with the exception of Passover, because matzah is terrible and eight days of no carbs but matzah and potatoes can have you crying for pizza by the end. But think bagels and lox to break the Yom Kippur fast. All sorts of exotic fruits on Tu B'Shevat. Brisket and tzimmes and noodle kugel for pretty much any occasion. And that's only the Ashkenazi food; I'd been treated to Sephardic and Mizrahi food occasionally at friends' houses growing up, and I remembered fish cooked in spicy tomato sauce, tangines with chickpeas and saffron, Yemenite braided bread with whole eggs hidden in the twists.
But Hanukkah food? Because Hanukkah celebrates the miracle of the oil, it's basically a mitzvah to eat fried foods for the holiday. And doing a good deed by eating French fries or doughnuts is the absolute best way to do a good deed.”
― Amanda Elliot, Love You a Latke

“We set up shop on a nearby bench, me starting with the savory order--- trout roe; sour cream; pickled radish--- and him with the sweet one--- spicy apple chutney; honey; whipped cream. The second savory order, with smoked salmon and dill and cucumber, we balanced between us, because I couldn't limit us to only two options after all. And really, when it came to fried potatoes, the more the merrier.
Especially these, because they were excellent: lacy and crisp, with crunchy edges and soft, pillowy centers.”
― Amanda Elliot, Love You a Latke

“The menu was full of foods that felt like home to me, but that also had a flair of originality. Brisket and matzo balls in a hearty bowl of ramen. Lox bowls with nori and crispy rice. Savory potato kugel and boureka pastries with hummus and fried artichokes with kibbeh. Knishes with kimchi and potato filling and a gochujang aioli. "This menu is so... Jewish."
"So Jewish," Seth agreed. "And make sure you're saving room for dessert. The rugelach is unreal, and the rainbow cookies are---" he looked around, then lowered his voice--- "better than my mom's."
One of the things I actually missed about living in New York was seeing all the fun twists people put on Jewish and Israeli food at restaurants and in delis. Nobody was doing that in Vermont.
Maybe you could do that in Vermont, something whispered in my head. I was used to just pushing that voice away, but, for once, I let myself pause and consider it. Would it be that crazy to sell babka at my café? I bet people would love a thick, tender slice of the sweet bread braided with chocolate or cinnamon sugar or even something savory with their coffee. I could experiment with fun fillings, have a daily special. Or I could rotate shakshuka or sabich sandwiches on the brunch specials menu, since they both involved eggs. My regulars might see eggs poached in spicy tomato sauce and pitas stuffed with fried eggplant, eggs, and all the salad fixings as breaths of fresh air.”
― Amanda Elliot, Love You a Latke