Tag Archives: matzo

Asparagus, Ramp & Feta Matzo Brei

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Full confession, last night’s dinner was (very not-Kosher-for Passover) beer with a Marcona almond chaser. I had stopped by my local beer bar with hopes of getting some school reading done. Alas, I quickly struck up a conversation with a charming neighbor seated on the adjacent stool. We spent the next few hours discussing beer, jazz and the upsides of midlife crises.

Beer for Dinner

While I do not regret my choices, they did leave me with a fair amount of reading to plow through before tomorrow evening’s class. I needed a quick dinner that would assuage my Jewish guilt and make use of the glorious spring vegetables I managed to score at Saturday’s farmers’ market.

Ramps

Asparagus, Ramp & Feta Matzo Brei

  • 1 tablespoon butter
  • 1 (or more) glasses Sancerre
  • 10 ramps
  • 10 stalks asparagus
  • 2 eggs
  • 2 sheets matzah
  • 1 ounce feta cheese
  • salt and pepper
  1. Bring a small nonstick skillet up to medium-low heat with 1/2 tablespoon butter. Pour yourself a nice glass of Sancerre while the butter melts.
  2. Rinse the ramps and trim off the tips. Chop into 1/2″ pieces, keeping the stems and leaves separate and splitting any large stems longways. Rinse the asparagus and remove the twiggy ends by breaking with your hands. Chop into 3/4″ pieces.
  3. Add the ramp stems to your butter and sauté, stirring frequently, until they start to get limp. Add the asparagus, starting with the thickest ends and working up to the tips. Cook until the asparagus is al denté (3-5 minutes). Add the ramp leaves and continue to cook until fully wilted. Add a little salt and pepper.
  4. Break the matzah into small pieces in a small bowl and top with water. Crack the eggs into a cup and whisk with a little more salt and pepper. Drain the water out of the matzah, using your hand to hold it in place. Add the eggs as well as the ramps and asparagus, crumble the feta over the top, and stir gently until combined.
  5. Place the pan back on the heat and add 1/4 tablespoon of butter. Pour the matzah mixture into the pan and let sit undisturbed for 7 minutes or so until the bottom is browned and the whole thing has started to set. Flip onto a small plate. Add the remaining butter to the pan, slide your matzo brei back into the pan and let cook undisturbed for another 3-5 minutes until nicely browned.

Asparagus Ramp Feta Matzo Brei

This may not look like much, but it is mad tasty, particularly with a second glass of Sancerre. Now about that reading…

Asparagus Ramp Feta Matzo Brei Closeup

EAT THIS: Matzo Balls, Ramps, Shrooms & Eggs

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Matzo Balls Ramps Mushrooms Poached Egg

Insomnia so bad that you arrive at the market while the farmers are still setting up? Console yourself in the knowledge that the early bird gets Wilklow Orchards‘s foraged ramps. Take them home and sauté them in butter along with a handful of mixed mushrooms from John D. Madura Farms. Fry up a few of your leftover matzo balls in a little more butter. Add a poached egg (thanks to Evolutionary Organics). Ponder a nap.

Miso-Spinach Matzo Balls

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On Sunday I hosted a potluck dinner for some of the amazing women I met/got to know a whole lot better during last summer’s two-week Paris study trip.

As expected, the menu was eclectic, seasonal and delicious. We had deviled eggs, cucumber salad, carrots and radicchio roasted with raisins and balsamic vinegar, a soba noodle salad, roasted fennel, and an array of not-kosher-for-Passover bread products. Camille, who came straight from her job at Threes Brewing, contributed to the chametz situation with a nice growler of IPA.

I’m still working my way through the potatoes from my winter CSA share, so I whipped up a batch of caramelized leek and cheddar potato skins. And, despite my indulgence in all manners of leavened grains, I felt compelled to make up for not having attended a seder this year by making matzo ball soup–albeit a vegetarian and Asian-inspired version.

Miso-Spinach Matzo Balls 

  • 1 large bunch spinach
  • 6 tablespoons coconut oil
  • 2 tablespoons red miso paste
  • 6 large eggs
  • 1 1/2 cups matzo meal
  • 1/4 cup water
  • 1 leek, minced
  • 1 bunch flat leaf parsley, finely chopped
  • 2 teaspoons plus 2 tablespoons salt
  • pepper
  1. Bring a pot of water to a boil and quickly blanch the spinach. Strain into a sieve, pressing hard with a spoon to extract as much liquid as possible. (Squeezing the spinach into a tight ball with your fist is also an effective strategy.) Chop finely.
  2. Melt the coconut oil and miso in a small pan, stirring with a fork to combine.
  3. Whisk the eggs in a medium mixing bowl. Stir in the matzo meal, water, miso oil, leek, parsley, a couple of teaspoons of salt and some freshly ground pepper. Chill in the refrigerator for at least 45 minutes.
  4. Bring a large pot of water plus 2 tablespoons of salt to a boil. Wet your hands and form the matzo mixture into smooth balls about the size of a large gumball, dropping them into the water as you go. You’ll need to rinse your hands every so often when they get too gummy.This recipe should yield around 40 matzo balls. If you’re a patient person, you might do these in two batches. Alternately, you could just cram them in like I did. Maintain a vigorous simmer for 25 minutes or so, during which time the matzo balls will twirl and plump. Miso-Spinach Matzo Balls
  5. OK, that was shockingly easy. Now one last step, courtesy of my mom, who swears by this technique. Scoop the matzo balls into a container, cover with the salted water, and store overnight in the fridge.

I worried that the soak would lead to a container of starchy mush. But these matzo balls hold beautifully, requiring nothing but a quick simmer in the broth of your choosing the next day. I went with a hot and sour tom yum-style vegetable broth with lots of fresh ginger and lemongrass, garnished with shiitake mushrooms and cilantro. The resulting dish was complex in flavor yet familiar enough in texture to evoke memories of the Maxwell House Haggadah and Manischewitz. Fortunately, Sari brought better wine.

Spinach-Miso Matzo Balls

Matzo Brei Duxelles

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New York City is a seductive lover who is bound and determined to make sure you don’t get attached.

On Saturday, I left my house at 11:00am and got back twelve hours later. Temperatures soared into the 70s. Outdoor bunch turned into pedicures turned into a trip to the flea market (where, naturally, I found the perfect dress) turned into a bike ride turned into a delicious home cooked meal and a boatload of rosé with good friends.

Three days later, at the end of a long day of work followed by school, I headed home under a steady rain. The cranky passengers disembarking en masse at Astor Place almost obscured the wads of bloody napkins inexplicably strewn about the wet subway platform. But nothing could mask the sound of the man in yellow leggings and large headphones wailing as he took up an entire row of seats on my car. A strange smell (on which I’d prefer not to dwell) hung in the air. Fifteen minutes and two transfers later, without so much as an announcement, my train went express. Having overshot my stop, I trudged back clutching my heavy bags with fingers that longed for a pair of gloves. I made it upstairs and flicked the radio on just in time to hear the WNYC newscaster blithely announce that we’re under a freeze warning, with lows around 28 overnight. It is April 15th.

There are a raft of tasks that I could–in fact, should–be focusing on tonight. Instead, having failed to score a seder invitation for the second night in a row, I set my sights on converting the matzo left over from last night’s salmon into a fancified version of the ultimate Passover comfort food. In keeping with the woe is me theme of this post, the recipe I present is for one. Scale up as you see fit.

Matzo Brei Duxelle

  • 1 tablespoon butter
  • 1 shallot, finely minced
  • 1 garlic clove, finely minced
  • 6 large baby bella mushrooms, diced into very small cubes
  • small pinch red pepper flakes (not traditional, but you’ll thank me)
  • 1/4 teaspoon fresh thyme (also not traditional, but it was in the crisper)
  • 3 tablespoons finely minced parsley (Italian flatleaf would be traditional but, this being Passover, who doesn’t have the curly variety on hand?)
  • 2 sheets matzo
  • 2 large eggs
  • salt and pepper
  1. Melt 1/2 tablespoon of butter in a small nonstick skillet over medium heat. Add the shallot and garlic and sauté for 4 minutes or so until soft. Add the mushrooms, thyme and red pepper flakes along with a pinch of salt. Continue cooking for about ten minutes, during which time the butter will be absorbed by the mushrooms, the mushrooms will release liquid, and the liquid will simmer off. Remove from the heat and stir in the parsley plus a healthy dose of black pepper. Congratulations, you made mushroom duxelles! Now spoon this into a small bowl.
  2. Return the pan to the stove, add 1/4 tablespoon of butter, and reduce the heat to medium-low. Crack the eggs into a small bowl, add some salt and pepper, and blend vigorously with a fork. Break the matzo into pieces approximately 1″ square. Place these in a shallow bowl and run hot water over the top. Stir for 30 seconds or so, scoop them out, and add them to your eggs.
  3. Pour half of your egg and matzo mixture into the pan. Spread your duxelles in a thin even layer and then top with the remaining egg and matzo. Cook until set and browned on the bottom (7 minutes or so). Flip the matzo brei onto a small plate, add your last 1/4 tablespoon of butter to the pan, and then slide the brei back into the pan. Let cook until that side is also golden brown and turn onto a large plate.

Matzo Brei Duxelle

I ate this with a simple salad of arugula dressed with olive oil and lemon juice and topped with a little shaved parmesan. I paired it with a beer, which is decidedly not kosher for Passover, but made me feel better about the sad state of affairs.

Passover Meal for One (or More)

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Tonight is the first night of Passover. I had a busy day of work, school, more work, and more school. I wasn’t raised with any religious education and wouldn’t claim to be observant. A dear friend converted to Judaism several years ago. Early in the process, she would call me with questions. I wasn’t much help. I did gift her a copy of Joan Nathan’s The Jewish Holiday Kitchen, which is an excellent resource. The inscription read, “I’ll always eat pork with you.” I get to be a (red-headed, blue-eyed, freckled) Jew (with a Danish last name) because my mom is Jewish.

I told myself that not having a seder to attend was fine. But I have come to realize that I mark the passage of time primarily through food rituals. Somewhere between Bleecker Street in the West Village and Nevins Street in Downtown Brooklyn, I realized that I needed to do something to observe the holiday. As I transferred from the 4 train to the 2 train, I began to catalog the ingredients at the seder table and sort out how I could make them into a quick meal for one. I figured I’d knocked out the lamb last weekend. And my diet includes plenty of eggs. But I did manage to incorporate charoset, matzo, bitter herbs, karpas and wine into my Passover dinner for one.

The resulting dish can be scaled up to feed a crowd but comes together quickly enough that you can justify making it when you still have a few hours of theoretical approaches to cooking shows to read before bed.

Horseradish, Parsley and Matzo-Crusted Salmon

  • 1 six-ounce wild salmon filet
  • 1 sheet matzo, crushed into a mixture of powder and small pieces
  • 2 tablespoons plain yogurt
  • 1 tablespoon prepared horseradish
  • 1 tablespoon dijon mustard
  • 3 tablespoons finely minced curly parsley
  • 1/2 teaspoon lemon zest
  • salt and pepper
  1. Preheat the oven to 400. Combine all ingredients in a small bowl.
  2. Rinse and pat the fish dry. Pour a bit of oil into a glass baking dish, place the salmon skin side down and sprinkle liberally with salt and pepper. Using a spoon, mound the matzo mixture on top of your fish.
  3. Cook the salmon approximately 9 minutes until opaque on the outside but still a little jiggly. 

While the oven was preheating, I made a quick version of a Sephardic-style charoset by poaching raisins, dried and quartered figs, and diced red onion in some leftover red wine, honey and lemon juice with a bit of cinnamon, cardamom, ginger, clove and black pepper. I ate this spooned into endive, which made for a great bitter herb, and topped with batons of Adelegger, a very funky raw cow’s milk Alpine cheese (good cheese being my chosen religion).

Horseradish, Parsley and Matzo-Crusted Salmon