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September 15, 2014 / 20 Elul, 5774
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Posts Tagged ‘matzah’

On Matzah & Mohels

Friday, May 11th, 2012

Pesach means bite-sized sweet kidney mangos and the return of the longon. Shavuot brings back the pomelo. Chanukah means miniature Mandarin oranges. And its always star-fruit for Rosh Hashanah. While our palates might have changed, along with our knowledge of Southeast Asian fruit, when it comes to Pesach it’s really all Osem and Yehuda Matzot for us.

I have worked hard to develop a neatly refined talent at being able to rid our apartment of chametz pre-Pesach. Nothing is left and little is wasted. I calculate and know just when to stop buying, what to purchase in smaller quantities and what we can do without for a day or so. Where my shortcoming lies is in my ability to predict how much matzah we will need. I am always grossly short. The kids always seem to eat ten times the amount they did the year before.

It is day three, a few years ago, and my supply is already running critically low. I work out, based on our current rate of consumption, what our needs will be.

It is still early. I am confident there will be an ample supply in the Koshermart, our small but well-stocked market in the Jewish Community Center. The market opens at 10. I am there at 10:15. The parking lot is crowded. This can’t bode well. “Matzah!” I simply exclaim to the clerk. “No more. Maybe you choose something else. Some gefilte fishes? Potato chip?” she responds.

“No matzah?” I confirm.

I let out a frustrated and exasperated long sigh.

Then Grace the cashier approaches. She leans close to me and whispers “meet me in the parking garage at 7pm tonight.”

I nod my head twice. Once in agreement. The second time to add effect.

It was very cloak and dagger. We met in the parking garage at the aforementioned time and she approached my car with four boxes in hand. Constantly looking over her shoulder.

“I thought the Koshermart was sold out,” I offer hesitantly.

“Yes, all sold out but restaurant upstairs have enough for whole Chinese army. I charged your account.”

And so I was to bring my matzah home with a clear conscious.

And while the excitement of this episode might perhaps have been slightly enhanced, it is not altogether overstated. We are not in New York, Los Angeles or Jerusalem. Our supplies are limited. Living somewhat off the radar clearly requires more careful planning.

As the story above shows, by day three of Pesach, the store is stripped of its supply save for perhaps a random sampling of Egg Matzah, Gluten Free Matzah, Onion Matzah and the new High Fiber Matzah. And since I continue to grossly under-buy, the same family has had to bail us out nearly every year for the past few years, passing their extra boxes of matzah to us. This has now become almost part of our Pesach tradition.

By day five, our Synagogue will typically email an announcement asking all those who will have extra boxes to please drop them off at the JCC and they are redistributed accordingly to the families that are running low. It is a comfort to know I am not the only one who can’t seem to get it right and that the demand for matzah is never unmet with a bit of communal cooperation.

When I think matzah, I of course also naturally think mohel. This association, for me, was forged because my eldest son’s brit milah was on the first day of Pesach 11 years ago. This was hardly an accident though. Having worked in the legal medicine field, I was perhaps a bit controlling when it came to things medical.

When I realized I could, if left to natural processes, potentially give birth on Pesach and miss my sedarim, I explained to my doctor in New York that as 38 weeks is full term, I could induce early and we both could have stress free chagim. Dr Goldman, also intent on making it to a family bar mitzvah around the same time, was quite amenable to the plan. And when it came to finding a mohel who would be able to walk to us, it was again not an issue.

When it came to the birth of my second son in Hong Kong, five years later, I learned that while matzah is sometimes heard to come by, a mohel always is. Though as a community we have a fairly high birth rate and our demographics are disproportionately young, we are small. And though we are rich in many Jewish institutions, we are without a mohel.

We must import our mohalim from the UK, Australia, Israel or the US. And like with our matzah, this is a communal effort and we share when we are able. Many “shidduchim” are made between expecting mothers. It is always welcome news to hear that another family is expecting a boy within days of yours. Flights, hotels and the other mohalim-associated costs can than be split. Some also require money to replace their salaries while they are away, some insist on business class seats, while others simply request a donation to a charity.

From Hollywood to the Holy Land

Thursday, May 3rd, 2012

I didn’t intend to make this blog a history of how I came to Israel, but since it started off in that direction, it’s a good time to explain how a totally assimilated Jew living in Hollywood got turned on to Torah and ended up trashing fame and fortune in America for a simple life in the Holy Land.

When I was growing up, my family belonged to a Reform Jewish synagogue in New England. We went to temple on Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur, lit Hanukah candles, had a Christmas tree to be like the neighbors, ate matzah on Seder night and candy eggs on Easter. I remember the reform rabbi telling us in Hebrew School that the splitting of the Red Sea occurred, not through any miracle by G-d, but because a severe drought had dried up the sea, and a freak, sudden rainstorm brought a massive flood that drowned the Egyptians immediately after the Jews had managed to cross on dry land. His explanation sounded so ludicrous to me, I didn’t want to bother having a bar-mitzvah. But my parents insisted. Since, the congregation had outgrown our old temple, and the new one was still under construction, my bar-mitzvah ceremony was held in a Unitarian church. To me, that’s a perfect symbol for being a Jew in America, where you are totally immersed in a foreign, gentile culture. Growing up Jewish in America is like growing up in a great big church. Even if you live in a strictly-kosher ghetto, the World Series, Michael Jackson, Christmas decorations, the Oscars, and the NY Daily News are waiting for you the minute you cross the street.

For high school, I went to a very prestigious and snobby private school in Massachusetts. Out of the 800 students, there were only a handful of Jews. We had to pray on Sundays in the basement of the campus church. Upstairs in this gigantic, impressive cathedral, the rest of the students and the faculty were gathered in prayer, and we were stuck out of sight in the basement, as if we belonged to some third-class religion. That’s how I related to Judaism as well. I didn’t want to have anything to do with it. But it was impossible to escape the reality that I was Jewish. After afternoon sports, everyone had to shower in the same locker room. In those days, the gentiles didn’t have their foreskins removed at birth in the hospital, so once again we Jews were the odd men out. It was a vivid sign for all to see that we were different from the goyim. But I wasn’t proud of it then. I wanted to be like everyone else.

Most of my graduating class was accepted into universities like Harvard, Yale, Stanford, and Princeton. I decided to go to NYU Film School where I spent four years in the dark, watching hundreds of movies. The year after I graduated, I wrote a screenplay that became a Hollywood movie, called “Law and Disorder,” starring Caroll O’Conner and Ernest Borgnine. I also sold a novel to a top New York publisher. I was sure that I was on my way to attain my dream of becoming “The Great American Novelist.” Watch out Norman Mailer and Philip Roth! Here comes Fishman!

I tried to play the part by looking as American as Paul Newman. But weird things kept happening, as if God were trying to remind me who I really was. For instance, the summer before my novel hit the bookstores, I decided to make a literary pilgrimage to Europe, in the footsteps of the famous American writers, Henry Miller, Thomas Wolfe, and Ernest Hemingway before me. I crossed the Atlantic by ocean liner and disembarked at the French port of Cherbourg. Remember, in those days I was clean shaven, without a big kippah and giant beard. As I was walking along the dock, a Mercedes Benz drove by and the driver yelled out, “Heil Hitler!” They were the first words I heard in Europe. It was freaky.

When I got back to America, my novel had been published. So I went to the publisher’s publicity department and suggested they send my picture to TV talk shows. After all, I was a good-looking guy. They agreed to try a campaign in the State of Florida. Sure enough, five talk-show producers immediately phoned back to book me on their shows. But when I flew down to Florida, I couldn’t find my book in the bookstores. Furious, I appeared on the talk shows and revealed all the smut I knew about the publishing company. The talk-show hosts loved it, but back in New York, my editor was aghast. He phoned me frantically to apologize and beg me to stop, but I was angry about their screw up. What was the point of my appearing on TV if my novel wasn’t in any of the stores? At that time, success was the most important thing to me in the world. When I got back to New York, the vice-president of the publishing company invited me to a meeting in his plush, skyscraper office.

Achim Academy Students Perform In Pesach Drama

Thursday, April 26th, 2012

The Achim Academy Center for Education in North Miami Beach uses many unique approaches to teach its special students, and for Pesach a dramatic production in six scenes planted the important messages of the Torah in young minds.

Achim Academy students hold model Seder.

The students learned the Torah lessons during the days leading up to Pesach, and then learned and rehearsed the six scenes of the production created by their teacher, Rabbi Avrohom Bukspan. Tall stuffed animals became ferocious beasts with students “roaring,” chemistry lessons turned water into red “blood,” and matzah was broken with well-learned karate moves.

AACE school students had a special show at the school for parents, siblings and friends. The model Seder instilled confidence and a sense of accomplishment in youngsters along with the lessons learned.

Achim Academy Center for Education is an ESE school for children with emotional and learning disabilities and for children who are gifted or may have dual exceptionalities. Established in 1999 and has four divisions: the day school, a gifted cohort, an out-of-school program and a summer camp.

Applications are now being accepted for the summer camp, which begins July 2, and for the day school and gifted cohort for the 2012-2013 school year, which begins August 4. There are a limited number of scholarships available for either on a first come-first serve basis. The deadline for Florida McKay Scholarship applications and registration is Monday, July 2.

Application forms and additional information are available on the school’s website, www.aaceschool.org, or by calling 305-945-7443.

The Passover Peacock

Wednesday, April 25th, 2012

It was a few days before Passover when I first heard the horrific cackling. “What,” I asked family members, is that? It sounded just like the longtime leftist agitator Shulamit Aloni. But it wasn’t.

Soon thereafter my wife came running into the house.

“There is a peacock downstairs in the yard,” she proclaimed.

Hmmm, just in time for Passover, I said to myself.

Down I went to investigate. And there standing in our yard was a giant turkey, like something out of a Thanksgiving poster in a Walmart store.

We live not far from the Haifa zoo, and various critters, especially those in possession of wings, tend to escape the place in search of friendlier, quieter surroundings.

The zoo, you see, is rather noisy. Late at night throughout our neighborhood one can hear the elephants in the zoo making loud noises. And – how shall I put this delicately – the noises they are making are not from their mouths.

Zoology is not my wife’s strong point, so you will have to forgive her classification error in ornithology. But she had good reason for mistaking the turkey for a peacock. Years back we actually had a male peacock refugee – long blue peacock feathers and all – take refuge in our yard.

The kids were young back then and nicknamed the peacock “Notsi,” from the Hebrew word for feather, notz. The yard guest lost a feather, which we saved and still use to this day in the late-night search for any crumbs of chametz the night before the Passover Seder.

The kids discovered that peacocks really like Bamba, a peanut butter-tasting Israeli puffy snack. Bamba, by the way, is kosher for Sephardim during Passover, and it seems peacocks must be Sephardic because they love gobbling up Bamba even during Passover. We know, we fed it.

The newest “Notsi” was, however, an obnoxious and aggressive male turkey. The various cats on the street found themselves intimidated and chased down the block by the monster whenever they came to investigate and got too close.

No one quite knew what to do with the turkey. Being the only American around, I of course proposed fattening it up and trying to keep it around until the last week of November, when all Americans know just what the proper use for such yard guests should be.

The neighbors, however, cringed at the thought of the noisy gobbling lasting that long.

Meanwhile, the children all along the street were carrying plastic bags full of chametz out to the garbage containers. I invited them over to feed the scraps to our Passover turkey instead of dumping or burning them. I am sure it was the highlight of Passover for many of them, and for years they will remember feeding the beast far better than they will recall reading about Pharaoh in the Haggadah.

The Passover turkey did have some problems during the actual days of Passover, though. It was not crazy about matzah – not even egg matzah or French toast-style matzah.

Anyway, the parking situation near the zoo was horrendous during Passover, with some cars stopping as far away as the front of our building just to get to the zoo. But the lazier families halted their climb up the hill when they got to our yard. They let the kids chase and photograph the Passover turkey.

Alas, the turkey did not last very far into the counting of the Omer. One morning it was just gone, and I suspect one of the other critters that lives in the Haifa wadis or gorges came out one night and had its own snack. There are wild boars and huge porcupines down there.

There went my plans for Thanksgiving!

But all is not lost. I went for a climb up the Carmel today to get some serious coffee, and a few buildings up the hill from my own I heard a new but different cackle. It wasn’t Shulamit Aloni this time either. (She has never quite recovered, by the way, from letting Hansel and Gretel escape her clutches.)

This time it really was a peacock, the newest refugee from the zoo, though a female this time, meaning she did not have any of those glorious blue feathers. If she hangs around until Shavuos, I’ll let you know if she eats cheesecake.

Steven Plaut, a frequent contributor to The Jewish Press, is a professor at Haifa University. His book “The Scout” is available at Amazon.com. He can be contacted at steveneplaut@yahoo.com.

Stories For Pesach

Monday, April 16th, 2012

Shares In The Embarrassment

         Among the famous practitioners of our forefather Abraham’s virtue, hospitality, was Rav Akiva Eger. Naturally, on Pesach, it was “Let all who are hungry come and eat…’’ Once, at the Seder, a guest accidentally overturned his cup. As the red wine stained the fine white tablecloth and the guest’s face was suffused with embarrassment, Rav Akiva tipped the table slightly so that his own cup was overturned.

The Blood Libel

         The “Blood Libel,” which would usually crop up before Pesach, was generally denounced by governments and Popes, disproved on numerous occasions, and still brought tragedy to the Jews for nearly 1,000 years. From the massacre at Cordova in 1013 to the infamous Beilis trial in 1911, the blood of innocent Jews was shed as freely as the Pesach lamb was shed in the time of the Beis Hamikdash. May these innocent sacrifices serve as an atonement for us today and may God in His infinite mercy hasten our redemption.

Let us take a look at how a King of Poland, Stanislas August Poniatowski, dealt with such a case nearly 200 years ago.

         In 1787, a peasant of Olkusz (near Cracow) found a Christian girl in the forest. She told him that a Jew wanted to kill her. Since it was before Pesach, a ritual murder charge was immediately announced. A poor tailor by the name of Mordecai was arrested and tortured until he confessed. But the local landlord, a certain Stanislas of Wodzicki, was not satisfied. He wanted to have the leaders of the Jewish community tortured.

         It was at this point that the Jews of Cracow appealed to the King for help.

         “It was after the dance at the cloth-galleries,’’ Wodzicki wrote in his memoirs, “And I sit in my room, writing letters. Suddenly my uncle, Elias of Wodzicki comes in and says: ‘Dress, Sir Stanislas, and come along with me to the King!’

         “I replied that I would gladly fulfill the uncle’s desire, but that I was already introduced to the King.

         “‘It is not a matter of introduction,’ he answered, ‘but the devilish affair with the Jews. The King takes an interest in this matter and wants to discuss it with you.’

         “‘I understand and guess something is afoot,’” I say.

         “The uncle asks, ‘What do you guess?’

         “‘That the Jews have gotten to the King,’” I reply. The uncle remained silent.

         “I dressed and we drove to the palace. We waited a short time and then the door of a small room opened and the King entered and addressed me in this way:

         “I did not expect that you, after having learned and studied in foreign countries, should still give credence to such medieval stupidities as that the Jews use Christian blood for Easter. We find such accusations in the history of all countries, it is true, and Jews were condemned to terrible punishments. But our enlightened age knows that these victims of superstitions and prejudice were innocent. I would ask you, Sir, not to push this matter in the courts!’”

         Frightened at the King’s attitude, the landlord dropped the charges and another tragedy was averted.

Hides The Matzoh

         A Yishuvnik, an unlearned farmer, who kept a teacher for his children in his home during the winter, told the teacher, “Rav, I am going to withhold the payment I owe you, because I want you to remain here for the Pesach holiday to show me how to conduct a Seder.”

         Unable to help himself, the teacher reluctantly agreed. As they were sitting at the Seder and they came to Yachatz, where the middle matzah is broken in half and one portion is put away for the Afikomen, the teacher did just that. He broke that matzoh in half and placed one piece under the pillow.

         When the farmer saw what the teacher did, he exclaimed, “Shame on you! What do you mean by hiding half a matzah under the pillow? Do I begrudge you a piece of matzah? Eat with the best of health all you like. But to hide a piece of matzah, shame on you” (Dr. Yitzchak Unterman, in his book Lekoved Yom Tov).

Peas For Pesach

         The Rav of Bialostok, Rav Samuel Mohliver, used to supply Jewish soldiers, who were stationed near Bialostok, with kosher meals so that they need not be forced to eat non-kosher food from the army’s general kitchen. This was his particular mitzvah. One day before Pesach, the head of the Jewish Congregation visited him and explained that because of high prices it would be difficult to supply the Jewish soldiers with kosher Pesach meals. “In that case,’’ Rav Samuel told him. “I will call together a meeting of the Dayanim (Jewish Judges) and we will allow the use of peas for this Pesach.’’

         “Excellent, Rav,’’ the head of the congregation replied, “The L-rd shall give you long life for this. I was very worried how to supply the Jewish soldiers with wholesome meals. Now you have come up with an excellent solution, we will feed them peas.’’

         “Peas for the Jewish soldiers did you say? This will never happen in Biyalostok. You, I, and the entire city will eat peas for Pesach, but the soldiers, they will eat the best food available!’’ exclaimed the Gaon.

How Much Marror Must One Eat?

Thursday, April 12th, 2012

In order to fulfill one’s obligation in the mitzvah of matzah, one must eat a k’zayis amount of matzah. This is because the Torah uses the wording of achilah (eating) when it commands the mitzvah of matzah. However, it is unclear how much marror must be eaten in order to fulfill one’s obligation in the mitzvah of marror. The Rush, in Arvei Pesachim, siman 25, says that the obligation is to eat a k’zayis of marror. The Rush says that the proof that we must eat this amount of marror is from the fact that the berachah that we make on the mitzvah of marror is “…al achilas marror,” and an achilah in halacha always constitutes eating a k’zayis amount.

The Shaagas Aryeh (siman 100) asks the following question on the Rush: There is a hekish that connects the mitzvah of matzah and marror. (It is this hekish that obligates women in the mitzvah of marror, for they would otherwise be exempt since it is a mitzvas assei she’hazman gramma). Based on that hekish we should learn that one must eat a k’zayis of marror, similar to the requirement of eating matzah. Why did the Rush prove that one must eat a k’zayis of marror only from the wording of the berachah? Why didn’t he prove it from this hekish?

Reb Chaim Soloveitchik (in his insights on Shas, known as his stencils) asks another question on the Rush. The Torah only considers something to have been eaten if it was a k’zayis amount. Even if the Torah does not use the word achilah, a k’zayis must still be eaten. We learn this from the prohibition to eat milk and meat together, whereby the Torah did not use the word achilah while writing the prohibition. Yet one will only transgress this prohibition when a k’zayis amount of the milk and meat mixture is eaten. So even if the Torah did not write the word achilah by the mitzvah of marror, we should still have to eat a k’zayis of marror since the mitzvah is to eat – and eating, by definition, is always at least a k’zayis amount. Why then did the Rush need to prove – from the wording of the berachah, and not from the fact that it is eaten – that one is required to eat a k’zayis of marror to fulfill his obligation?

Reb Chaim explains the source for the mitzvos of matzah and marror, and in doing so answers the abovementioned questions. He explains that there are two pesukim that discuss the mitzvah of matzah. One is “…al matzos u’merrorim yochluhu.” This pasuk refers to the mitzvah of eating the korban Pesach, and the Torah commands that the korban be eaten with matzah and marror. The second pasuk is “…ba’erev tochal matzos.” This pasuk is a separate commandment to eat matzah. The pasuk that refers to the mitzvah of eating the korban Pesach does not teach us that there is a separate mitzvah to eat matzah and marror; in fact the only obligation that is derived from that pasuk is to eat the korban Pesach. If not for the second pasuk (“ba’erev tochal matzos”) it would have sufficed to eat half a k’zayis of matzah, and half a k’zayis of marror together with the korban Pesach. The eating of the matzah and marror mentioned in this pasuk is only a precondition for fulfilling the mitzvah of korban Pesach. Since the eating of the matzah and marror are not separate mitzvos (as far as this pasuk is concerned) they do not require a k’zayis of each to be eaten.

Continuing his explanation, Reb Chaim says that we only find that there is a hekish between matzah and marror regarding the obligation to eat them with the korban Pesach. As mentioned above, that obligation is not a separate mitzvah and therefore does not require a k’zayis for each. The reason why the Rush could not have proven that one must eat a k’zayis of marror from the hekish between matzah and marror is because in the mitzvah of matzah to which marror is compared, there is no obligation to eat a k’zayis of matzah. The reason that one is required to eat a k’zayis of matzah is because of the other pasuk, “…ba’erev tochal matzos,” to which marror is not compared. Reb Chaim also explains that this too answers his question regarding basar v’chalav. For only when the actual mitzvah is to eat something or not to eat something does the Torah require a k’zayis. However, when the eating is not the actual mitzvah but rather a condition for another mitzvah (such as the obligation to eat marror together with the korban Pesach) we do not find that one must eat a k’zayis. Therefore the Rush was only able to bring a proof from the wording of the achilah berachah that we must eat a k’zayis of marror.

A Taste of The Middle East

Wednesday, April 11th, 2012

As an American of Sephardic heritage, I was raised on the mouth-watering delicious foods that define Middle Eastern fare. For as far back as I can remember the kitchen has been my comfort zone. Whipping up culinary creations to please the palates of an Ashkenazic husband, Sephardic kin, fussy kids, and guests who frequent our dinner table can be quite challenging, but at the same time tremendously satisfying.

Two all-around favorite appetizers – Laham Bajeen and Sambusak – are yummy Shabbat staples that can actually be enjoyed on Pesach as well, with some modification.

 

Laham Bajeen are flavorful mini pizza-like meat pies that are both tangy and sweet. They can be prepared beforehand as they freeze well in raw or cooked form. This recipe yields 24 pieces.

 

Ingredients:

Frozen mini pizza dough (substitute round mini tea matzos on Pesach)

1 lb. lean ground beef

1 med onion grated and squeezed

1 6-oz. can tomato paste

1 tsp lemon juice

1 c tamrahandi sauce (purchase in any middle eastern grocery store)

1 tsp allspice

1½ tsp salt

½ tsp pepper

1/8 c sugar

Combine ground beef, onion, tomato paste, lemon juice, tamrahandi sauce and spices. Mix well.

Preheat oven to 350°. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Place dough (or matzah) rounds on sheet and top each with a tablespoon of the meat mixture, pressed firmly onto dough.

Bake for 15 to 20 minutes.

 

Sambusak can actually be enjoyed as a dairy appetizer by filling with a luscious cheese mix in place of meat.

 

Dough ingredients (for Pesach):

2 c matzah meal

¼ c cake meal

3 tbsp potato starch

3 tbsp oil

1 tbsp salt

cold water

 

Mix by hand with wet fingers; add water to mixture as needed to form dough. If the mixture becomes too wet, set aside to dry out a bit. If dough consistency is too dry, add water accordingly.

 

Meat filling:

1 lb. ground beef

1 onion

1 tsp salt

1 tsp allspice

Sautee chopped onion in 2-3 tbsp oil. Add ground beef and cook until browned. Drain liquid, add salt and allspice and mix well.

 

Cheese filling (for dairy use):

Beat one egg with a dash of dried mint and 1 tsp each of salt and black pepper; add 1 lb. grated mozzarella cheese and mix well.

Form little-larger-than-walnut size portions of dough, flattening each one in a circular shape. Spoon meat (or cheese mixture) on to each circle of dough and fold over into a half-moon shape, pressing moistened edges together.

Deep fry in oil until golden brown. (Ideal oil temperature: 350°)

 

Dough ingredients (not for Pesach):

2c flour

1c semolina flour

2 sticks margarine (at room temp)

1 tsp salt

½ c water

Mix by hand. Follow instructions for filling above, but instead of deep-frying, place on cookie sheet, brush lightly with beaten egg and sprinkle with sesame seeds, if desired. Bake at 350° until golden brown (approximately 20 minutes). Yields 40 pieces.

Remember to fry them on Pesach and bake them for chametz. (The reverse for either one is not an option due to the nature of the dough.)

 

Eggplant Salad

This spicy eggplant salad – not of the garden-variety type – is another flavorful appetizer that can double as a dip or a side dish. Leave it on the table for the duration of dinner and don’t bank on any leftovers.

 

Ingredients

1 large eggplant, unpeeled and cubed

1 onion, diced

6 garlic cloves, thinly sliced

1 6 oz can tomato paste

1 tsp salt

1 tsp pepper

1 tsp red pepper flakes

Water

Sauté onions until translucent. Add garlic slices and cubed eggplant; cook for 7-10 minutes on medium heat. Add tomato paste, salt, pepper, pepper flakes, and about 1cup of water. Bring to a boil, then let simmer for about 30-40 minutes, stirring occasionally.

 

Another hot food item that’s an international palate pleaser and finds a place of prominence on our dinner table at festive occasions all year round: Dips. Seriously hot. No, no, not the over-the-counter variety. These are homemade and a big hit – with those who like it hot, that is.

If you plan to prepare one or more of them for the second days of Pesach, make sure to have enough matzah to go around to satisfy all the dippers at your table.

These are also great accompaniments to the various dishes on the Shabbat/Yom Tov table, fish, meat or vegetarian.

 

Matbucha

Ingredients

1 28 oz can crushed tomatoes

1 3 oz can tomato paste

3 jalapeno peppers, diced

6 garlic cloves, crushed

2 tbsp olive oil

Printed from: http://www.jewishpress.com/sections/food/recipes/a-taste-of-the-middle-east/2012/04/11/

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