America – Flavors of Diaspora

The Joy of Bold Fork Books

I have not yet reviewed a bookstore on this blog, despite a decade of writing. Today, that will change, because I want to tell you about one of my favorite bookstores in Washington DC: Bold Fork Books.

Bold Fork Books is in the Mount Pleasant neighborhood in northern Washington DC. It is an unusual bookstore in that it pretty much only sells cookbooks and food writing.

Of course, I love it. The store is small and has a tall wall shelf of cookbooks, which is quite frankly an ideal number of cookbooks. You can find cookbooks from all six continents, and food writing and history on many topics – as well as plenty of food-themed books for children. I rarely go in and leave without buying anything. It is, shall we say, dangerous for my wallet.

Bold Fork Books - entrance to a store in a narrow row house with a row of books inside — Photo from Bold Fork Books

Bold Fork sells – and prioritizes – books that often do not get “airtime” at larger bookstores. The store features books about cuisines from many, many more countries than one would find in a typical cookbook selection: Sierra Leone, Georgia, Barbados, Myanmar, Kenya, and Romania among them (including Irina Georgescu’s excellent Tava). I especially appreciate the hefty and growing selection of indigenous cookbooks on offer – including one of my favorites, Sean Sherman’s Sioux Chef. And while you can find your more “traditional” cuisines on the shelves as well, many of the cookbooks and other books are those that are perhaps not as renowned – and, incidentally, often easier for a cook new to a culinary tradition to follow. I first encountered Vietnamese Vegetarian – Uyen Luu’s wonderful book that I reviewed earlier this year – at Bold Fork.

The store also features many cookbooks that straddle the boundaries of cuisines and audiences. Many bookshops jettison the cookbooks that straddle cuisines or that do not have the right “authentic” sheen. I can also often tell a bookstore’s political leaning by the cookbooks on the shelf: a left-leaning shops will often have a focus on whatever cuisines are most popular at the time, and right-leaning shops often focus their cookbook selections on entertaining and baking. Bold Fork eschews this segregation and offers it all.

Bold Fork is worth a visit, and a wonderful way to support a local business that is a beloved space for the community. And if you do visit, I should note that the bookstore often hosts wonderful food events. When I go, I often see a cheese tasting or another event happening in the back of the store. I was fortunate enough to attend one such event last year – a talk on the links between opera history and food by Rita Monastero, who can best be described as the doyenne of Italian food television. (The talk included the memorable line, “Nelly Melba was very fond of the ice cream.”) Do try to attend an event – it is very cozy and you often get a lovely treat. In my case, it was Monastero’s wonderful artichoke and Parmesan pinwheel pastry.

Let me know what you think of Bold Fork and I hope to see you there.

Bold Fork Books, 3064 Mount Pleasant Street NW, Washington DC

Is Authenticity Out of Fashion? Please Be So.

As you can probably guess, I read a lot of cookbooks. Not as many in the form of books that I own, as of late: instead, I have come to love e-cookbooks on my tablet and borrowing – and xeroxing – copies of cookbooks from libraries. There are many wonderful books that I have found – the electronic version of Uyen Luu’s book on vegetarian Vietnamese cooking is a particular favorite, as is Hetty McKinnon’s Tenderheart.

Most of this reading is “comfort” reading or “research”: I get many ideas for recipes on and off the blog from these books, and it is helpful to be familiar with different recipes. Besides, I have somehow become a bit of a “go-to” person among my friends for cooking questions – and so it is helpful to know about lots of different recipes, even if I stick to my comfortable rotation. (Which includes several recipes on this blog.)

Cookbooks, largely vegetarian, on a shelf — Photo Emdot via CC/Flickr

Authenticity used to be all the rage, and longtime readers will know that I am not a fan. Even five or six years ago, cookbook publishers were fawning over to prove their volumes as the most authentic, most unadulterated, or most “true” to a certain form of the cuisine. Note that I say publishers and not authors – because, in most cases, this was a marketing ploy for the consumer. Yet none of this fawning made authenticity any more real. And many of the most interesting things about culinary traditions – the use of new ingredients, or how social norms and practices have changed over time, or even some of the tastiest recipes – fell by the wayside.

Yet in recent years, I have seen newer cookbooks embrace authenticity less. Some flat out never use the word. Others, and especially those by people from the country whose cuisine is documented, often acknowledge – and celebrate – the “inauthentic” things they are doing. One example is Uyen Luu’s aforementioned cookbook. She uses capers to replace other, non-vegetarian ingredients common in Vietnamese cuisine, and encourages her readers to use the ingredients they actually have, with her recipes as a guide. Similarly, Naz Deravian’s fantastic Bottom of the Pot, which contains many delicious and fantastically photographed Iranian recipes, includes her own creations from common ingredients in North America, as well as recipes that push boundaries – like her sour cherry crostini. (Which I highly recommend.)

Rainbow bagels in plastic bag — Rainbow bagels (Photo Louise McLaren via Flickr/CC)

I think this is a good thing. Since I wrote my authenticity piece back in 2017, I have noticed something curious: authenticity, rather than guaranteeing the trueness of a cuisine, is often a prison. Food, and cooking, become something that has to be performed when you seek authenticity – often at great energy, expense, or waste. Seeking the “authentic” also often traps people in a time capsule – even as the purported owners of the cuisine are trying new things. For a particularly poignant example: while some may decry rainbow and cinnamon raisin bagels, many New York bagel shops now include quinoa in bagels for a healthier variety of the “everything” bagel. (I am mildly allergic to quinoa, so if someone could review these for me, that would be appreciated.) I would rather have a living Jewish cuisine, not a time capsule version thereof.

Every cuisine deserves room to grow and change – and people are creative! And so I hope instead of the strange and confining bounds of authenticity and nostalgia, we see cookbooks not only acknowledge the wonders of mixing, but also inspire new traditions. What will be Jewish cuisine in 50 years? I cannot wait to find out.

Tomato Soup

I want to kick off 2025 with this simple tomato soup. I have made a variety of freehand tomato soups now and again over the years – this one is perhaps a bit more elaborate than usual. It goes well with sandwiches, latkes, or anything particularly “carby.”

Many fist-sized tomatoes of various shades of red in a box — Fresh heirloom tomatoes, before cooking or canning, at a farmer’s market in Charleston, SC. (Photo mine/September 2017)

While we do not necessarily think of tomato soup as an explicitly Jewish dish, many Jewish cookbooks have included it over the years. Fania Lewando included more than one tomato soup in her vegetarian Yiddish-language cookbook nearly a century ago in Lithuania, as did many cookbooks for immigrant Jews in the early 20^th century in the United States. Many South African Jewish community cookbooks have tomato soup recipes as well – and I do wonder if my freehand soups are subconsciously inspired by those of my South African grandparents (may they rest in peace). These soups are all enabled by canned tomatoes – a miracle of modernist food that allows us to enjoy the summer wonder of tomatoes in the dead of winter, or far from anything green. (Incidentally, the best tomato soup I ever had was at a restaurant inside a tomato greenhouse in Iceland.)

Tomato soup mine, not Reese’s. (Photo mine/January 2025)

I add the luxuries of some fresh tomatoes and basil to my soup, but these can easily be swapped for dried basil and more canned tomatoes. This is a soup that does well as leftovers, and feel free to make in large quantities and freeze for later.

Tomato Soup

Makes 4 big or 8 small servings

3 tablespoons butter or vegetable oil

1 small Vidalia onion, roughly chopped

1 large carrot, roughly chopped

4 stalks celery, roughly chopped

5 cloves garlic, smashed

2 15 oz/425g cans diced tomatoes, unsalted

A handful of fresh basil, roughly chopped, or 2 teaspoons dried basil

1 tablespoon bouillon base or two bouillon cubes, crushed

4 cups water

3 small Roma tomatoes, roughly chopped (see note above)

1 teaspoon table salt

¾ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

In a medium-sized Dutch oven on medium-high heat, melt the butter or heat the oil.
Add the onion, carrot, celery, and garlic, and sweat for a few minutes, stirring regularly, until the onion is noticeably softer and smaller.
Add the diced tomatoes and mix in.
When the tomatoes start bubbling, add the basil and bouillon and mix in thoroughly.
Add the water and bring to a boil.
When boiling, add the tomatoes, salt, and pepper.
Simmer for 15-20 minutes, or until the peel is coming off the tomato pieces. Stir often.
Turn off the heat.
Blend the soup with a stick blender or in batches in a food processor.
Serve hot. The soup keeps for up to six days in the refrigerator or four months in the freezer.

Thanks to David Ouziel, Thomas Hamed, Dan Reed, Maryam Sabbaghi, and Douglas Graebner for participating in User Acceptance Testing for this recipe.

Ice Pops Are a Delight of Modernist Cooking

Shana tova! Here is one last post for 5784.

I have lately been very into ice pops – and for reference, my most recent birthday was my 33^rd, not my 5^th. You may know these as popsicles – which comes from the brand name Popsicle. I am especially fond of the mango Greek yogurt popsicles sold at Whole Foods. And while I have mostly been invested in making and eating ice pops, I do think that they are a really good example of why modern food is good, actually.

Green popsicle held by someone — Matcha yogurt popsicle (photo mine, October 2024)

Ice pops are a perfect example of modernist cooking – functionally, they were not even feasible until the late 19^th century. Why? Well, refrigeration and freezing as we know it only became widely available around then – and icehouses before that were pretty much the domain of the wealthy. (Some ancient practices like the Iranian yakhchal were available more widely in their regions.) Freezers were more common in commercial settings – like stores – well into the 20^th century; the majority of American homes did not have a refrigerator or freezer until the late 1930’s. Most people in much of the Global South still do not.

The history of ice pops closely tracks this history: frozen mass-market treats beyond ice cream became common in the late 19^th century, and popsicles were invented early in the 20^th century. In developing countries, popsicles often become popular first as commercial refrigeration becomes more common, then as more consumers have freezers at home.

Popsicles also reflect the availability of clean water and dairy. Often, the ingredients are not heated – and as a result, harmful bacteria get frozen in situ, still ready to wreak havoc on a digestive system. One reason we can have ice pops at all – and why they are still dangerous in many places – is because of access to water sanitation and pasteurization, beyond refrigeration.

Multicolored popsicles — Paletas (photo Arnold Gatilao/Wikimedia CC)

Every country seems to have a favorite ice pop. In Israel, watermelon popsicles are popular. Mexico has a whole family of paletas with flavors ranging from prickly pear to horchata. In Panama, my partner and I were able to try duros, stickless popsicles with the flavors of various tropical fruits like soursop and guava. (The passionfruit duros are spectacular.) Popsicles are big money in many countries too: Japanese consumers buy billions of yen worth of garigari-kun– soda-flavored ice pops – every year.

Popsicles are fun to make. They are also quick – I am always amazed at the speed at which a few ingredients transform into popsicles going in to freeze. A lot of ice pop recipes are out there, and many of them are quite good! I have sketched out, below, a method for making popsicles that I like, sweetened with honey and with the tang and weight of Greek yogurt. I hope you enjoy.

Make Your Own Ice Pops!

Here is a rough sketch of a popsicle recipe, with two varieties:

Set up

I have six ice pop molds, each of which has a 1/3 cup capacity. So, each of these recipes makes about two cups of filling. If you have bigger molds or more capacity, feel free to do math to increase the filling.

Always leave a little room in the mold for the popsicle to grow as it freezes.

I list Greek yogurt for both recipes, but feel free to use a dairy-free substitute for a pareve ice pop.

Matcha Yogurt Popsicles (based on this recipe)

1 ¾ cups Greek yogurt, 2 tsp culinary grade matcha, 3 tbsp honey, 1 tsp vanilla, pinch of salt. Whisk the ingredients together, pour into your molds, add the sticks, and freeze.

Cucumber Orange Popsicles

Puree one large cucumber and the flesh of one orange, then strain to get the juice. (Discard or compost the solids). This will give you about one cup juice. Whisk the juice together with ¾ cup Greek yogurt, 4 tablespoons of honey, and 1 teaspoon lemon juice. Pour into your molds, add the sticks, and freeze.

Great Books: The Moosewood Cookbook

A few months before he passed, the late Jon Henner wrote a tweet that immediately made sense to me:

Working theory. The Moosewood Cookbook by @MollieKatzen is one of the most important mid to late 20th century Ashkenazi diaspora cookbooks. My grandma cooked Moosewood and not really cholents and stuff.
@JMHenner – February 2, 2023

This book, the first of Mollie Katzen’s twelve works, indeed had a big influence on Jewish communities. It is a very Jewish cookbook – and a great one, too.

The Moosewood Cookbook stems from the namesake restaurant which Katzen co-founded in Ithaca, NY – which still operates today. (If you are in the Finger Lakes, I recommend a visit.) Moosewood was very much a product of its time – a vegetarian, plants- and ethics-forward restaurant with a very global focus – perfect for the “People’s Republic of Ithaca.” The cookbook – and several of the following books – are hand-lettered and -illustrated by Katzen herself, and compile many of the “hit recipes” from the restaurant’s early years.

Pasta with vegetables and cheese — Farfalle primavera at Moosewood Restaurant itself! (Photo mine)

The recipes themselves are great – and very rich and hearty! Among other hits, I can highly recommend the soups and many of the casseroles in the book, as well as the pies. The Brazilian Black Bean soup is a particular favorite. Katzen writes accessibly and in a very intuitive way – the recipes are organized in a way that makes chronological sense for the recipe. Many of the portion sizes are generous.

The book is also deeply Jewish. Katzen herself credits her kosher upbringing with her interest in vegetarianism, and she included many Ashkenazi classics – such as noodle kugel, cabbage borscht and other soups like solyanka, blintzes, stuffed cabbage, and cholent-like casseroles in the book and on Moosewood’s menu. These vegetarian, well-flavored, rich renditions are exemplars of their recipes. And it is not hard to find Jewish influences elsewhere too – the pie made with a grated potato crust akin to yapchik, the zucchini pancakes akin to latkes, or the spices that pair with the many wonderful mushroom dishes.

Katzen was part of a trend, of course: many Jewish people were involved in the vegetarian, environmental, and “hippie” food movements of the 1970s and 1980s. Other non-Jewish chefs active in this time include Jewish recipes in their works too – for example, the women behind Bloodroot Restaurant in Bridgeport, CT, and Deborah Madison, the author of several authoritative cookbooks on vegetarian and plant-forward cooking. Other Moosewood co-founders – and members of the staff who took collective ownership in 1978 – were Jewish too, including Katzen’s brother.

Handlettered Sweet Potato Pancakes recipe — A handlettered recipe from the Moosewood Cookbook (copyright Mollie Katzen via Glamour magazine)

Yet Katzen’s influence went back to the Jewish community in a way unparalleled by these other books. By the time I grew up in the 1990’s, many of Katzen’s recipes were in my and others’ experience frequent guests on the tables of synagogue events and Shabbat dinners. Though my own family did not cook Moosewood, many others’ did. Others have written about this experience, too. As an experiment, I asked my heavily-Jewish friends circle what they like to cook from Moosewood. Many of the recipes I mentioned appeared – alongside the pasta al cavalfiore, no-boil lasagna, and the Ukrainian poppy seed cake. I was not surprised to hear so many entries – after all, many others have been in communities heavily influenced by the cookbook too.

Pasta with cheese and cauliflower — Pasta al cavalfiore from The Moosewood Cookbook (Photo Margaret Wessel Walker, February 2024)

I have many times made a recipe from The Moosewood Cookbook or Katzen’s subsequent The Enchanted Broccoli Forest to find that I had recreated something I had eaten before, at a Jewish community event – especially in the left-leaning communities I have frequented as an adult. I think this has happened for many reasons: Katzen’s own continued links to Jewish life, the strong Jewish presence at Cornell University and in Ithaca, and in particular, the way Moosewood reflects how American Jews actually eat. The recipes were not preserved jelly-like in nostalgia, but rather in a mix alongside Indonesian salads, Brazilian soups, and an array of pastas.

And so this is why Jon’s tweet resonated with me so much. It was not just his grandmother who cooked from Moosewood – many of the people I knew in my communities, across generations, vegetarian or carnivore, left-wing or conservative, did. I do too, now – and I am grateful to this book for very much enriching Jewish tables across the country.

This post is dedicated to Dr. Jonathan Henner, z”l, who passed away in August. I knew him through this blog and our shared Jewish networks – he suggested that someday I write a post on Moosewood. In the wider world, he was known as a proud Deaf advocate and an achieved linguist who studied American Sign Language and children’s education. His work and activism have had a profound effect on many people, especially Deaf children. You can read more about him here; he will be missed.

The Moosewood Cookbook, by Mollie Katzen, is available from many wonderful independent bookstores across the world.

Thank you to my friends for contributions and particularly Margaret Wessel Walker for the photo!

A Floral Note: Honey Rose Cookies with Cardamom

Here is a recipe for honey rose cookies with cardamom. I based the recipe for these floral, spiced cookies on my maple spice cookies, but the change to honey and the addition of roses adds a very different feeling. The cookies also have little specks from the ground roses that add color and pizzazz.

Three golden brown cookies with piles of dried roses (red-purple) on a white plate — (Photo mine, April 2023)

Roses have been used in Jewish cooking for many centuries, but primarily in the form of rose water, which tends to be quite concentrated. Rose flavors are often associated with Shabbat and Shavuot. Beyond a floral note, rose often complements and cuts the sweetness in many desserts. In this recipe, I used dried edible roses – which you can find easily online, especially because they are often used for tea. Be sure you are using food-grade dried roses.

Honey Rose Cookies with Cardamom

Makes 24-30 cookies

1 stick unsalted butter or butter substitute, softened

½ cup granulated sugar

2/3 cup honey

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 tablespoons whole milk (or plant-based milk)

2 cups white flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

2 tablespoons dried rose petals, crushed (I use a mortar and pestle)

1 teaspoon ground cardamom

¼ teaspoon table salt

Preheat your oven to 350F/175C. Line two large cookie sheets with parchment paper.
Cream the butter and sugar together until fluffy, using the method of your choice (electric mixer, hand mixer, or by hand).
Add the honey, vanilla extract, and milk and blend together until combined.
Sift the flour together with the baking powder, crushed rose petals, cardamom, and salt.
Mix the flour mixture into the honey butter mixture until combined. You should have a pliable dough.
With your hands or two spoons, roll balls of dough about 1 ½ inches/2 centimeters in diameter and place on the cookie sheet. Then use your finger to squash each ball into an oval-ish shape. You should get between 24 and 30 cookies.
Bake for 12-13 minutes. The cookies should become golden and expand.
Remove from oven and let sit on the cookie sheet for ten minutes.

Thanks to David Ouziel, Hannah Cook, and Douglas Graebner for conducting User Acceptance Testing on this recipe.

Chocolate Babka

A braided ovoid chocolate-laced bread on a cutting board — A free-form chocolate babka. Yes, I am aware of what it looks like. (Photo mine, September 2021)

Note: recipe updated July 2024.

This is my chocolate babka recipe – which I have posted elsewhere, but not as a blog post. I nailed down this recipe during the initial stages of the pandemic, based on my cinnamon babka recipe and Tori Avey’s chocolate filling. It has been one of my dessert standards since then. (To the point that last year, I brought one on a plane to Florida to spend Thanksgiving with my partner’s family. I am nothing if not absolutely ridiculous.)

I talked about the history of babka in a 2019 post. What I have come to appreciate about chocolate babka since then is how it reflects a very Jewish experience: of new foods evolving with encounters with new products in new places. Chocolate babka came about in 20^th-century New York, enabled by cheaper chocolate and an enormous amount of creativity in New York’s Jewish bakeries at the time. Now, it is one of those treats that generally pleases a very wide audience. I’ve also come to appreciate the delicious babkas created by other communities – I’m a big fan of the log-like Ukrainian ones.

Slice of chocolate-swirled bread on a white plate — Cross-section of a (free-form) babka. (Photo mine, May 2020)

I make my babka a little less sweet than many are, and I like to add chopped walnuts to add weight, depth, and nuttiness. You can omit the walnuts if you have an allergy. I also make the babka with butter – though dairy is only partly traditional, it is delicious. The butter also adds to the delicious density of a babka – something that certain people on certain British baking shows do not appreciate, I am told.

You can braid in a loaf, which is what I direct here, but I’ve come to enjoy free-form babkas braided like a challah. I added directions in a note at the bottom. You can also add an egg wash if you are feeling fancy, but I am invariably too lazy.

Chocolate swirled loaf in a loaf pan — A baked babka. (Photo mine, May 2020)

Chocolate Babka (with Optional Walnuts)

Makes two medium loaves

1 cup/250mL whole milk

1 package active dry yeast

2/3 cup granulated sugar, divided in half

5 tablespoons salted butter, melted

2 eggs

3 ¾ cups sifted white flour (about 450g)

8 tablespoons unsalted butter

4 oz/120g dark chocolate chips

1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder

1 cup walnuts, finely ground (optional)

Warm the milk to about 100F/39C – I do it in 15 second spurts in the microwave. The milk should be warm enough to touch with your finger but not feel like it’s burning you.
Add the yeast to the milk, stir in, and let sit for five minutes.
Mix the yeast mixture in a large bowl or stand mixer bowl with the eggs, salted butter, and 1/3 cup of the sugar.
Add the flour, ½ cup at a time, and mix in thoroughly, either with your hands and a spoon or the dough hook on the electric mixer. Once it is in, knead for six to eight minutes on a floured surface, or use the dough hook on the electric mixer for about five minutes. The dough, when ready, should be roughly the texture of your earlobe and should be smooth and bounce back.
Oil a large bowl, put the dough in it, and cover. Let rise for about 1 ½ hours, or until a bit more than double in size.
Meanwhile, you can make the filling. Melt the unsalted butter and the chocolate chips together until smooth. (I use the microwave). Mix in the other 1/3 cup sugar, cocoa powder, and walnuts if using until combined. Set aside.
Grease two loaf pans. Grease – not flour – a large surface and a rolling pin.
Punch the dough down, then split into two parts. Take one part, roll it out to about half an inch/1 centimeter thickness. Spread half of the chocolate filling evenly on it, leaving a 1 inch/2.5 cm perimeter around the edges of the dough.
Pick up one edge and roll tightly into a tube. If you want, you can slice the tube in half before the next step.
Bring the two ends together, and twist into a figure eight-ish shape. Place in the pan.
Repeat with the other half and other pan.
Preheat your oven to 350F/175C.
If you want a lighter or fluffier babka, you can proof it again a second time for 30 minutes. Let it sit undisturbed on/in the pan at room temperature.
Bake for 30-40 minutes, or until brown on top and hollowish-sounding when you tap it. Let cool for five minutes in the pan, then until your desired temperature on a rack. Store in a sealed plastic bag for up to a week or so.

For a free-form babka: Bake instead on a large baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Shape the coils however you want – I recommend in this case slicing the tube in half and twisting the two halves together for a visual effect.

Many thanks to the friends, neighbors, and roommates who have helped me develop this recipe over the years: AJ Faust, Zachary Maher, Ying-Ying Chow, Rebecca Fedderwitz, Bo-Young Lee, Joseph Jeffers, Hannah Cook, Douglas Graebner, Melanie Marino, Margaret Curran, Maryam Sabbaghi, Sara Weissman, Gilah Barker, Zach and Hannah Kinger, and of course, my partner David Ouziel.

Fun at the Capital Jewish Food Festival

DC had its first Capital Jewish Food Festival the day before Sukkot this year. A new museum, the Capital Jewish Museum, is about to open Downtown, and this institution put together and hosted this festival. The goal: celebrate Jewish food loudly, publicly, and in a fun and delicious way in the nation’s capital.

A brick and glass building with steps and a terrace. Drawing — A rendering of the forthcoming museum. (Image Capital Jewish Museum)

I bought tickets as soon as I heard that this event was happening. After all, how often is there going to be a brand-new Jewish food festival near me – and five blocks from my office, no less? I had a lot of fun, and thought I would write up my experience to share with you. For those of you local to Greater Washington, the festival was held on F Street NW between 3^rd and 2^nd Streets, right by the Judiciary Square Metro. I got there a bit early – but the crowd really started packing in shortly after I arrived. There were throngs of people!

About fifteen to twenty vendors were present, offering samples for ticket holders and additional delicious things for purchase. Some of my favorites included a fantastic challah apple bread pudding from Bread Furst, Venezuelan flan (very Shavuot-appropriate!) from Immigrant Food, and a fantastic hummus with winter squash from Little Sesame. For those who did not want to limit themselves to samples, there was more to buy. If my pantry had not been already packed, I would have absolutely gotten some delicious baked goods from Baked by Yael (what fantastic challah!).

Hummus with pita and winter squash from Little Sesame (photo mine, October 2022)

What I loved about the vendors is that they were neither limited to explicitly Jewish vendors, nor to specific interpretations of Jewish tradition. One stall had a delicious Venezuelan-style flan – which some Jews probably eat at Shavuot, but it was not marketed as either Jewish or for Shavuot. It was a delicious flan that you could eat Jewishly! In addition, other community groups were there as well with their wares – including a Chinese-American heritage association with delicious mooncakes. The message seemed to be “these things are part of Jewish tables too.” This mixing also gave rise to some pairings most would not think of – that flan was an excellent counterweight to the bread pudding I just mentioned.

Two plastic cups with fried foods and sauces — Vegan nuggets and fries from PLNT Burger (photo mine, October 2022)

There were keynote speakers too – including the inimitable Joan Nathan and Michael Twitty. Both held book signings after their talks. I was not able to make Twitty’s because of a prior conflict with his speaking time – though I’ve had the fortune to meet him before, in 2016 – but I was able to meet Joan Nathan! As longtime readers know, I have relied quite a bit on her work over the years as I’ve developed my own Jewish culinary practice and knowledge. She, like Twitty, is incredibly sweet in person. If you have a chance to meet Twitty or Nathan, take it! Meeting your heroes is a fabulous opportunity.

The crowd was awesome – and though it got a bit overcrowded, it was wonderful to see people enjoying the joyfulness of Jewish tradition. A lot of Jewish tradition is indeed “Remember that we suffered,” but there is a streak of joy too, and that is what I like to share. Food is a huge part of that, and this festival amplifies that opportunity for joy. It was really awesome to see Jews and their friends just enjoying a very public day out, eating tasty Jewish things. I heard people introducing their friends to Jewish foods, or talking about what they learned or particularly enjoyed. It was also wonderful to hear folks say things like “I’m not Jewish but I love Jewish food.” The joy of Jewish food really should be for everyone, and I appreciate that the Museum consciously pushed back on the often insular and exclusionary approaches to Jewish cultural celebrations. After all, we are never just Jewish either.

A street with pedestrians and covered stalls on both sides. No cars are on the street. — The festival early on – about three times as many people were present just 45 minutes later! (Photo mine, October 2022)

I hope the festival continues next year. I am planning to write to the museum for two suggestions: one on space and one for accessibility. The festival was popular – which is good – but the street space was perhaps too small for the number of folks who wanted to attend. Next year, if possible, I would suggest that they spread out along more than one block to accommodate everyone. Related to that, the seating areas were a bit hidden, which made it hard for folks who cannot stand for a while or eat and walk. These areas should be more clearly marked.

I hope to see you at the festival next year!

The Lillian and Albert Small Capital Jewish Museum will open soon at 575 3^rd Street NW in Washington DC, by the Judiciary Square station on Metro’s Red Line.

Great Books: Perfection Salad, by Laura Shapiro

I am far from the first person to believe that the kitchen can change the world. In fact, such a belief motivated the domestic science movement of the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries, which was largely led by women. This push – though not feminist – sought to give honor and credit to women’s work in the kitchen, and to transform how women ate. Laura Shapiro’s 1986 book Perfection Salad narrates the history and impact of this movement – and how the legacy on the kitchen was “devastating” – and how it also, in many ways, strengthened patriarchy rather than lending respect to women.

About two dozen white women in aprons and caps looking at a camera in a library — A home economics class in early 20th-century Toronto. (Photo public domain via Toronto Public Library)

The book charts the fascinating history of “domestic science,” the ancestor to today’s “home economics.” The movement stemmed from a desire to standardize and give respect to women’s domestic work – and rather than changing gender norms or the distribution of labor, social reformers sought to do so by standardizing and making scientific this labor. Much of the change happened in cuisine – with ideas of foods being controlled, and determined for nutrition or morals alone rather also for nourishment and flavor. (Hence creations like the book’s titular salad.) The book also charts the way women interested in chemistry and economics were shunted off to the gendered world of home economics – and how this whole development tied in with the popularization of industrial foods. The book is fantastic, and I highly recommend it.

One surprise for me, while reading the book, has been the type of presence Christianity has in many of these reformer’s narratives. I am unsurprised by the presence – social reform has always had a strong Christian overtone – but rather the tenor of it. Many of the reformers presented “orderly” households as analogous to Heaven itself – and one even narrated Heaven as such an establishment! Even as scientific methods were incorporated into home economics, the base of the enterprise was still a very patriarchal one of the woman as keeper of the hearth and imparter of Christian morals (with all sorts of rather biased assumptions attached). Shapiro’s depiction of this phenomenon is unflinching but also deeply engaging – she draws the reader into the minds of the authors who she writes about from a century’s distance. As I read, I reflected on similar tendencies in many Jewish social reform cookbooks in the early 20^th century – like the famed Settlement Cook Book. Even with their secularizing and assimilationist tendencies, these books still relied also on older, very patriarchal ideas of what the kitchen was spiritually – and what women should be doing there.

Shapiro published this book in 1986, but many of the notes and observations carry over to much of domestic culture today. One is: the constant pushback that people – mostly women – get for following instinct and embodied knowledge rather than something “improved,” “rational,” or “new.” We saw it with domestic science, and now we see it with much of the “health food movement.” Instinct, of course, is not always right – but there is something about knowing what will work when, and the knowledge that comes from things that cannot always be measured or codified, and the action of doing. For this insight alone, Perfection Salad remains as relevant as ever.

Perfection Salad: Women and Cooking at the Turn of the Century, by Laura Shapiro

An Indigenous Lunch at Owamni

My partner and I recently spent a long weekend in the Twin Cities in Minnesota – a fantastic destination for anyone who enjoys eating lots of good food. One of the highlights of our trip was a lunch at Owamni by the Sioux Chef, which is a restaurant that serves indigenous North American cuisine, primarily from the Great Plains and Great Lakes region (the ancestral lands of the Dakhota, Anishinaabe, Ho-Chunk, and others). The head chef, Sean Sherman, is one of the leaders of a decolonial food movement that seeks to renew an indigenous ingredient-based food paradigm in North America. Owamni is named for St. Anthony Falls, which is called Owamni by the Dakhota people indigenous to the region.

Owamni is one of the few full-service indigenous restaurants in the United States. The menu centers indigenous ingredients like maize, wild rice (manoomin), sunchokes, and tubers. It also does not include wheat, dairy, soy, pork, or cane sugar – which were introduced through colonization. This exclusion is important for this movement – and though it contrasts with the approach of some other indigenous food activists, this focus in many ways liberates Sherman to explore some fantastic possibilities. The menu at Owamni showcases these wonders.

After lunch, I reflected on how little we discuss indigenous food in the American Jewish community. Most American Jews are White, and there is not much reflection on the way that we still buy into colonial ways of farming, eating, and cooking. I think this lack of investment partly reflects how White American Jews have, unconsciously, bought into the food system as it is.

When I have brought up indigenous cooking to some Jewish friends in the past, kashrut has been brought up as a concern. Yes, kashrut should be an option for those who choose to keep kosher. But I think here kashrut also covers the discomfort of discussing indigenous affairs – and the fact that most American Jews are not indigenous. Kashrut, as my friend Michael has written here before, is only a barrier if you let it be. I think we can cook more with indigenous food, support indigenous food systems – and eat some delicious things in the process. I certainly plan on looking more into Piscataway and Lenape food traditions back home in Maryland.

Now, for the lunch itself. David (my partner) and I chose to eat a mostly vegetarian meal, because those are the dishes that jumped out to us on the menu. We had several shared plates and one each of a small plate. Everything was delicious, and the beans and sweet potatoes ranked among the best things we have ever eaten. If you have the chance to go to Owamni, do so – and keep in mind that you will need to reserve in advance.

Golden drink in glass with ice — This is a maple switchel – a non-alcoholic drink with carbonated water and vinegar.

Blue crisps arranged around a white dip with fish on a plate with pools of purple sauce — Blue corn tostadas with a whitefish and white bean dip and *wojape,* a traditional Dakhota sauce made out of chokecherries

Red beans covered with green dust and leaves in a bowl — Tepary beans cooked with maple and cedar – one of the best things I have ever eaten

Brown wild rice in a bowl with leaves — Wild rice (*manoomin*) from Anishinaabe lands, gently flavored

Purple porridge with blueberries, raspberries, and hazelnuts in a bowl — Blue cornmeal mush with native berries and nuts

roasted sweet potato with indigenous chili crisp and scallion on a plate with red oil — Roasted white sweet potatoes with an “indigenous chili crisp” – David was obsessed

Blue tortilla with cooked mushrooms, raw greens and mustard seeds on plate — Taco with a blue corn tortilla, roasted mushrooms, mustard greens and native mustard seeds

Owamni by the Sioux Chef is at 20 1st St S, Minneapolis, MN. It is wheelchair accessible and close to several transit options. Reservations open 60 days in advance.

Sean Sherman, the head chef, also has a cookbook, The Sioux Chef’s Indigenous Cookbook. I greatly recommend it. The link takes you to Birchbark Books, which is the United States’ only indigenous-owned bookstore. Order from them if you can – and if life takes you to the Twin Cities, the bookstore itself is a real treat.