Throughout the Maghreb, couscous was traditionally prepared by groups of women, family and friends, who helped each other pass the long hours it took to make. First, they spread semolina wheat, bought by the men and freshly ground, onto a large round platter, sprinkling it with salted water and sometimes flour.
By the time Prohibition began, Jews did make up a significant portion of the alcohol industry—most often in the whiskey business, working as distillers or distributors. But a smaller cohort of Jews also made their mark as cocktail bartenders.
In Rome, the future of the Jewish community’s signature dish—the carciofo alla giudia (Jewish-style artichoke)—was threatened by a decree from the Israeli rabbinate’s head of imports.
With Israeli Independence Day coming up on May 14, we spoke with food writer and chef Vered Guttman about how to prepare for the holiday, the best foods to celebrate with—and which Israeli dishes she misses the most.
For many Jews, Passover is about what you can’t eat. Those who observe the holiday’s dietary rules must avoid chametz: wheat, rye, spelt, barley or oats. But because these ingredients—with the exception, sometimes, of oats—also happen to be the primary sources of gluten in our food, the Passover diet and the gluten-free diet actually look a lot alike.
The epigram, “They tried to kill us. We survived. Let’s eat!” sometimes serves as a tongue-in-cheek synopsis of Jewish holidays: Passover, for example, recounts the original Jewish survival story in an extended banquet punctuated by four cups of wine.
Chef Michael Twitty—a writer, culinary historian, cook and Hebrew school teacher—is an African American Jew (he converted at age 22) who uses his culinary prowess to explore the threads of his identity. In 2013, he became a well-known presence in culinary circles when he wrote an open letter to celebrity chef Paula Deen, which quickly went viral
We asked four of our favorite chefs to share their recipes for some fabulous holiday fare—plus an accompanying wine.
Sitting in a tiled restaurant in Dupont Circle with a glass bowl of pickles and rhubarb, it’s daunting to imagine the future of the Jewish deli.
Blond and rather slender for its type, a pickle barrel stands by the takeout counter of the famous Washington, DC delicatessen Wagshal’s. Lined with plastic, it may satisfy a certain nostalgia but amounts to no more than a storage unit on the bulk-bin grocery aisle—a pale iteration of the big-bellied, oak casks I remember from my childhood.
One of the less-celebrated benefits of globalization is that you can walk into a bakery in almost any city in the world on Friday and buy a challah. But not in Shanghai. At least not until this past March.
