Tu B’Shvat, the New Year of the Trees, falls on Friday night, the 29th of this month – this coming Friday. It’s an agricultural holiday, marking the cutoff date by which to calculate the age of a tree. As Jews may not eat fruit of a tree less than four years old, we need to know its age. Another important issue with regard to a tree’s age is tithing the fruit: one may not bring tithes of fruit from the previous year as this year’s tithes. There are more, complicated halachic issues, but they are outside the scope of this blog. Follow the links below for more information.

There is a custom, dating from the 1600s,  to hold a seder to honor this minor holiday; a seder similar to Passover’s. Although Jews continued the custom of eating fruit from Israel on the day, observance of the seder lapsed. It was revived in Israel in the late 1800s and has since then taken hold in Jewish homes and congregations all over the world.

It’s a short, pleasant ceremony that involves eating fruit and drinking four cups of wine (or grape juice), always accompanied by the blessings and some meditations on the meanings of these symbolic acts. The seder is easily incorporated into the Shabbat meal. Kids love it, and so do grownups. For people living outside of Israel, it refreshes the connection with the land of Israel. Actually it does so for those of us living here too, especially those living in towns and who seldom think of our deep relationship to the land.

There are different takes on Tu B’Shvat. Many religious folks interpret the holiday according to the Kabbalistic tradition set down by Rabbi Yitzak Luria. Secular people might prefer to emphasize the relationship between man and ecology on this day. Some observe the seder through a feminist perspective. Vegetarians and those who hold by the macrobiotic way of life especially enjoy this holiday. But as loose as the guidelines may be, everyone needs a plan to follow, so here are links to Tu B’Shvat seder haggadot: booklets providing a framework for the event.

• A kabbalistic TuB’Shvat haggadah
• A family-oriented haggadah
• A haggadah concerned with man and ecology
• A feminist haggadah

Planting a tree is a popular Tu B’Shvat activity in Israel; this is usually done through organized trips managed by schools, community centers, or the Jewish National Fund.

The simplest way to present foods appropriate to the day is to set out plates of dried fruit and bread. Featured should be the seven species of fruit and grains native to Israel and which were offered in the Holy Temple of Jerusalem:

• Figs
• Dates
• Pomegranates (you can use pomegranate molasses to season a dish, or drink bottled juice if the fresh fruit isn’t available)
• olives
• grapes or raisins
• wheat – as bread
• barley – I suggest a soup with barley in it: mushroom/barley or chicken soup with barley in it, or pea/barley.

At least one kind of nut with shells, like walnuts or pistachios should be on the plates, as well as fruit with peels like oranges, fruit with edible seeds like strawberries, and  fruit with inedible seeds like plums. Each kind has symbolic meaning (discussed in the haggadot, links above).

If you can’t tolerate four cups of wine, it’s fine to drink grape juice. Whichever you use, you need dark red, light red, pink, and white wine or juice. I have white and red wine on hand and just mix at the table, but if you like you can certainly buy all four kinds.

Here are some recipes that feature fruit, bread, and olives:

• Roasted, Fruit-Stuffed Chicken for Tu B’Shvat
• Tajine of Turkey with Dried Fruit
• Chutney
• Sweet, Light Challah
• Honeyed Challah
• Turkish Salad

It’s not too late to plan a Tu B’Shvat seder at home, or even to join a tree-planting trip. Mark the day in the way that appeals to you most.

What are you planning to do for Tu B’Shvat?

We met at the Mazzarine café on tree-lined Montefiori Street. It’s a Parisian-style patisserie, decorated in a style that recalls the settings of novels by Colette.

The private room we  reserved had a gorgeous crystal chandelier, big, comfortable, cushioned chairs and an ample wooden table. The food (kosher dairy) is fresh and appetizing. The usual quiches, salads, and pasta were on the menu, the difference being that they were obviously hand-made, with care,  each with its little innovative twist.  The pastries looked rich and amazingly decadent. A good setting for six foodies getting to know each other.

The participants were:

Yaelian, of the Finnish Oranges and Honey blog

Irene Sharon Hodes

Liz Steinberg of Café Liz

Sarah Melamed of Foodbridge

Michelle Kemp-Nordell of Baroness Tapuzina

…and myself.

Several other bloggers who had hoped to come couldn’t make it, but we hope to see them at the next meeting, in early March.

We became comfortable with each other quickly, and conversation, irrigated by Dalton Fumé Blanc wine,  flowed uninterrupted till when our orders arrived. Then we fell silent, concentrating on the flavors of the dishes set down before us.

I had gnocchi with artichokes and grilled cherry tomatoes.

Liz had Caesar Salad.

Irène had seared tuna with a scallion pancake and Jasmine rice.

Baroness Tapuzina had consommé with chunks of grilled tuna and strips of pasta.

Yaelian’s quiche and Sarah’s order, which I don’t remember, didn’t photograph well (my little Cannon A750 doesn’t do well at night). I’m hoping that the other bloggers will have better photos.

But we did have a hilarious time photographing each other taking pictures of the food. Well, it was a foodie meeting, what can you do?

The management was amused and intrigued by the flock of noisy women and the bursts of laughter coming from our reserved table. Over the evening, they kindly sent over  a dish new on their menu, gnocchi stuffed with prune preserve and covered in a techinah-based sauce. That dish wasn’t the best of what we tasted: I personally found that the flavors jarred. But my gnocchi with artichokes was very good.

Then the chef, Sharon Artzi, came over to introduce himself and explain the dishes we had ordered.

At dessert time, the management gifted our table with a little extra:

Myself, I had an eclair split open and stuffed with strawberries and cream. An elegant variation on strawberry shortcake.

As much as the lovely setting and delicious food, we enjoyed the exchange of ideas, stimulation, and mutual support. It was a fun, fun evening. I look forward to the next event, and hope you Israeli food bloggers out there join us.

A last-minute call to local food bloggers: get together with me,  Baroness Tapuzina, and other Israeli food bloggers tonight in a Tel Aviv café.  Socializing, networking, getting to know one another…just fun, tonight.

For details, email me: mimi@israelikitchen.com. I’ll be home till 4:30 tonight.

An irresistible combination of aromas and flavors: orange and fresh pastry. Inspired by the orange trees in bloom all around the neighborhood, I went searching for a recipe featuring the fruit. I found this recipe at Recipezaar.

I made a few adjustments, using margarine to keep the pastry pareve and changing the glaze’s original ingredients. And can I tell you how delicious these tempting little pastries are?

I’d better not.

I want them all for myself.

Orange Rolls

Makes about 30

Ingredients for Pastry

1 package fresh yeast (1/4 oz.)

1/4  cup warm water

1 cup more warm water or milk

1/4 cup margarine or butter

1/4 cup sugar

1 teaspoon salt

1 egg, lightly beaten

3 1/2 – 4 cups flour

Ingredients for Filling:

1 cup sugar

1/2 cup soft margarine or butter

2 tablespoons grated orange zest

Ingredients for Glaze:

1 cup powdered sugar

4 teaspoons margarine or butter, soft

5 teaspoons orange juice

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

Method for Pastry:

1. Dissolve the yeast the 1/4-cup of water, in a small bowl.

2. In a large bowl, mix the cup of water or milk, marg or butter, sugar, salt, and egg. Use a mixer for this if you have one; it’s easier and less messy.

3. Stir in the yeast mixture.

4. Add the flour. You should have a soft dough; one you can knead but will still be a little tacky.

5. Knead till smooth – 5 minutes or so. You can knead it in its mixing bowl.

6. Sprinkle flour over the surface of the dough, turn it over, and sprinkle more flour over it. Cover the bowl.

7. Let the dough rise for about an hour or until doubled and light.

8. Punch it down and divide it in half.

9. Roll each half into a 15 x 10″ rectangle (I just judged by eye and made a fat rectangle).

10. Mix the filling ingredients until smooth. Spread half on each rectangle. Spread it thinly and smoothly, covering all the rectangles.

11. Roll each rectangle up, starting from either long edge.

12. Cut each big roll into 15 pieces. It’s a little tricky, but don’t worry if the little rolls pull apart a little. You can quickly re-shape any awkward-looking ones.

13. Place the rolls into baking pans that have either been greased or covered in baking paper. I recommend lining the pan with baking paper, as the filling leaks out a bit in baking, and makes removing the finished rolls difficult.

14. Cover and allow it to rise 45 minutes or till doubled in volume. About 25 minutes into the second rising time, preheat the oven to 375° F -  190°C.

16. Bake  for 20 – 25 minutes. Keep a sharp eye out – they should be a golden brown, not a deep brown. The heavenly smell in the house will announce doneness.

17. Mix the glaze ingredients. It won’t look like there will be enough to glaze all the rolls, but there will be. Spread the glaze generously over the rolls while they’re still hot.

18. Refrain from devouring everything.

I saw them at the Ramla shuk, and thought they were beets. How could they be carrots, with that beety purple color? Yet carrots they were, and when I tasted them, I knew they could be nothing else. These heritage carrots, sold only by Arab farmers, have an earthier, sweeter, more carroty taste than the orange-colored ones we’re used to. They aren’t popular with children, who mistrust the purple color. But Husband and I enjoyed them in a typical Israeli/Middle Eastern marinaded salad. I also roasted one along with potatoes and sweet potatoes under a chicken.

Below you see that at their centers, their color is an orangey yellow.

I couldn’t photograph them roasted, as we ate them on Shabbat, but I’ll tell you that they looked like nothing so much as beets. They released some of their purple color and stained the vegetables roasting next to them, but they were sweet and firm. We liked them.

In restaurants, this marinated carrot salad is often served in a little dish as part of mezze nibbles before a large meal. Usually it’s made with orange carrots of course. Lacking purple ones, do as the restaurants do and use the carrots you keep around.

Marinated Carrot Salad

serves 4 as an appetizer or small side dish

Ingredients:

3  medium carrots

1 shallot

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 tablespoon lemon juice or good vinegar

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/8 teaspoon sugar

2 tablespoons minced cilantro or parsley

Method:

1. Slice the carrots and the shallots as thinly as you can.

2. Mix up the rest of the ingredients and pour the mixture onto the vegetables.

3. Allow the salad to marinate 2 hours in the fridge before serving.

It keeps for 3 days.

A nice thing to add to the salad is a little piece of preserved lemon, if you have some.

I’m thrilled to tell you of the arrival of my third grandchild and first grand-daughter, Squeaky, who first opened her eyes on the word on Friday. She weighed 3 kg. 100 grams at birth – about 7 pounds, and is very, very beautiful. We are all besotted with her.

Rice goes well with the unique, dark flavor of nettles. I was thinking of that this morning when putting away a bunch of dried nettles into glass jars. So I made this risotto. With the melting flavors of vegetables and cheese and the slight chewiness of arborio rice, it’s one of the most delicious things I’ve cooked this week. The nettles warm the body and give you energy, too.

Any of the edible weeds can substitute for nettles, or you can use chard, kale, or spinach. But try nettles, if you’ve gathered some.

Now I know that classical risotto starts with dry white wine – well, I didn’t have any. So I substituted a couple of tablespoons of vodka in a quarter-cup measure, and filled it up with vegetable stock. Risotto calls for Parmesan cheese – I made do with the standard Israeli “yellow cheese,” grated. I would have been divine with Parmesan, but was still very good.

Start with a vegetable stock. Below you see mine.

Vegetable Stock

printable version here

yield: 3 cups

Ingredients:

1 medium onion, thickly sliced

3 garlic cloves

1 stalk of celery, with leaves, chopped

1 carrot, thickly sliced

a handful of cherry tomatoes (or one medium-sized regular tomato), halved

1/4 teaspoon dried thyme

1 teaspoon  salt

3 cups of water

A tiny pinch of saffron

Method:

1. Bring the above ingredients to a boil, then lower the flame to simmer the broth. Cook, covered, for 15 minutes.

2. Remove the carrot slices from the stock. Allow to cool a little, then chop them into chunks. Set aside.

Risotto classically starts with a good cup of white wine, but I didn’t have any. So I put about 3 tablespoons of vodka in a 1/2-cup measure and filled it up with vegetable stock.  I could have simply used stock, but I felt like vodka. If you have white wine, though, use it.

Risotto With Nettles and Carrots

printable version here

serves 4

Ingredients:

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 small onion

1 cup risotto rice

1/2 cup white wine

3/4 cup fresh nettles, or 1/2 cup dried

the carrot slices out of the stock

1 tablespoon butter

1/2 cup grated cheese, preferably Parmesan

salt

more butter and Parmesan

Method:

1. Chop the nettles. Mine were dry and crisp, so I found it easier to cut them up with scissors.

2. Put the olive oil into a medium-sized pot. Add the chopped onion, and start to cook it over medium heat. The onion should cook till translucent, not at all brown.

3. Add the rice and stir, allowing it to absorb the oil as much as possible but not allowing it to brown.

4. Add the wine (or substitute), and stir. Watch the rice – the liquid should be absorbed before the next steps. The rice will be only partly cooked.

Below you see the texture of the rice at this stage. If you peer into your monitor, you can make out the pocks indicating that the liquid is almost absorbed. Over there, to the left.

5. Add a cupful of vegetable stock; stir. Let it almost become absorbed.

6. Add another cupful of stock; stir and do the same. The rice will be somewhat soupy at this point. Taste, and adjust the salt if you need to.

7. Add the chopped nettles and the carrot chunks; stir, of course.

8. Add the last of the stock. Stir and let the rice cook another 5 minutes.

9. Add the tablespoon of butter and the cheese. Stir well and serve as soon as the cheese has melted.

Add more butter and cheese at the table, if desired.

So comforting, so good! We ate it down to the last grain.

The ancient town of Ramleh (Ramla) has had a  long, colorful, and troubled history – and how not? It has existed under one government or another since the 8th century.  It has survived war and earthquakes, drastic population changes, glory, and decline.

Apparently Ramla’s golden years happened a long, long time ago.

9th-century historian Al-Muqaddasi describes it as a prosperous, agreeable town surrounded by stout walls, enjoying varied agriculture without those walls and bustling commerce within. Last week, hopping off the sherut (collective taxi) to meet Sarah of Foodbridge, the impression I had of Ramleh was that of a town struggling to rise above poverty and neglect.

Although there are some charming, up-dated buildings.

We were there to explore the funky shuk, where Arab vendors sell produce we don’t see in bigger towns, like these purple carrots

and heaps of local greens. The leaves, from left to right, are za’atar, chicory, and Turkish spinach.

I bought Jerusalem Sage, a broad leaf that doesn’t resemble or taste like culinary sage. People stuff it with rice and roll it up. When I cooked it, I stuffed it with a mixture of rice and leftover picadillo. Extra leaves, I sliced into soup. Here the vendor weighs out a bunch.

The Jewish Bucharan baker stamps his breads with beautiful designs.

I enjoyed strolling around, getting a feel for the place.

The majority of the town are Jews, albeit of many different origins. Muslim and Christian Arabs are large minority groups. The feeling in the shuk was straightforward and business-like; none of the overt hostility between peoples that has discouraged me from visiting the Arab shuk in Jerusalem’s Old City for many years.

Here Ethiopian and Russian immigrants shop in the narrow Shuk streets.

A vendor allowed me to photograph him.

At a kosher bakery, I sampled sambousak (fried pastries filled with a spicy chickpea mixture). Greasy, but delicious.

Another vendor sells hot, flaky bourekas that are meant to be split open and filled with choumous and a sliced hamine egg. Not a bad breakfast, any time.

More pastries, fried and glistening with sugar syrup…

On our way out, I glimpsed pickles for sale…a good idea for recycling empty soft-drink bottles.

It was fun. I’d like to visit Shuk Ramla again. Each shuk has its unique character, and I liked the feeling of this one, where a church clock strikes a tinny note as you gaze up at a minaret tower and munch a kosher sambusak. It’s old, it’s funky, the people shopping there are working-class and there’s nothing upscale about it.

It feels close to history, and close to the land.

It looks like glue unless you top it with chopped nuts and a drizzle of syrup. But slide a spoon into the softly yielding white mass and put it in your mouth. You’ll taste rose-flavored sweetness and a light, creamy texture that keeps you dipping your spoon back in till the Malabi’s all gone.

Here in Israel we call it Malabi – in Turkey, Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, and Egypt, people call it Muhallibieh. The Greeks know it as well, and make an elaborate, panna-cotta-like dish based on it. And it’s only milk pudding, made in ten minutes. Sounds like a dessert for children, and children naturally do love it, but I’ve eaten Malabi in restaurants and at dinner parties.

The old-fashioned way is to use rice flour as the thickener. Easy enough to make in the food processor – just whirl rice around in it till it’s fine, floury particles. Health food stores carry rice flour, if you’re not in the mood to powder rice. I confess I yielded to laziness the other day and bought some. When made with rice flour,  Malabi has more body and a slightly gritty texture. Cornstarch-based Malabi is silky and very light.

Recipes vary a little.  Some call for a combination of milk and cream. One requires ground almonds. Some people flavor their Malabi with rosewater, some with orange flower water. Very old recipes call for mastic, a resin from a shrub belonging to the pistachio family. I saw one recipe that requires flavoring the pudding with two leaves of a bitter orange tree, or the flowers.

I’d like to try that sometime. In fact, orange trees are blooming all around my neighborhood now – maybe I’ll remember to pluck a few blooms for Malabi. Up till now, I’ve favored vanilla and rosewater. There is something so Oriental and heady, and at the same time so soothing, about the perfume of roses.

Toppings vary too. I like to top Malabi with chopped pine nuts and walnuts, or with chopped pistachios. Some dust a little cinnamon over the top, or sprinkle shredded coconut and peanuts. A little syrup over everything – it can be silan, or date honey, which I favor, or a home-made sugar syrup flavored with lemon, or even maple syrup. Israelis sometimes use “pettel,” a cheap raspberry-flavored syrup used to flavor water, which I don’t recommend.

The photo above shows a rice-based Malabi with pistachios and silan.

And by the way, you can make Malabi pareve (non-dairy) as well. Just substitute water, or better yet, half water, half coconut milk. Or use all rice milk.  I use water and a can of coconut milk, and everyone loves it.

Here are two basic Malabi recipes.

Rice-Flour Malabi

6 servings

Ingredients:

1 liter (4 – 1/2 cups) milk

1/2 cup rice flour

1/2 cup sugar

2 tablespoons rose water

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

chopped nuts

Method:

1. Put the rice flour in a small bowl. Slowly, add 100 ml. (1/2 cup) from the milk to it, stirring well to dissolve. Use a whisk, if you have one – lumps in Malabi are not nice.

2. Bring the rest of the milk, plus the sugar, to the boil. Stir in the rice flour/milk. Stir well to distribute the rice flour, but don’t scrape up the thickened layer that will form at the bottom of the pot – it will simply form lumps.

3. Lower the heat to medium and cook the pudding for 5 minutes, stirring.

4. Add the vanilla and the rosewater; stir.

5. Pour the Malabi into a big bowl, or ladle it into 6 dessert-sized bowls. Cool it completely, then refrigerate it.

6. Garnish the tops with chopped pistachios and a drizzle of your favorite sweet syrup.

Cornstarch Malabi

8 servings – can be halved

Ingredients:

4 cups milk

1 cup sugar

5 tablespoons cornstarch, diluted in 1/4 cup water

2 tablespoons rose water or orange flower water

4 oz. chopped nuts

silan or other syrup

Method:

1. Put the milk and the sugar in a pan and bring the mixture to a boil.

2. Always stirring, add the cornstarch and water mixture.

3. Cook over medium heat till the pudding thickens – up to 5 minutes.

4. Add the rose water; stir.

5. Ladle into small bowls. Cool the pudding and then refrigerate it till cold.

5. Garnish the servings with chopped nuts and a swirl of syrup.

• Another pudding recipe: Flim Flam Flan
• Silan date honey in a savory recipe: Eggplant with Techinah
• Another savory silan dish: Tajine of Turkey with Dried Fruit

Janna Gur is the  author of  The New Book of Israeli Food, which I  reviewed earlier,  and editor of Al HaShulchan, Israel’s most widely-read and respected food magazine. A few days ago she generously gave me time to talk about herself, the magazine, and her important historical food project.

The first thing we established is how to pronounce her name. It’s “Zhana”, as in the French “Jean.”  Once I finally pronounced it correctly, we had enjoyed a few chuckles and chatting came easy. Janna answered my questions with patience and humor -  ranting sometimes, musing and just sharing her thoughts other times. She asked about me and my family with sincere interest, which surprised and pleased me. I felt personally how her warmth and curiosity brought her to a wide, almost anthropological vision of how food preserves culture; culture, food.

Janna told me that she immigrated to Israel in the mid-1970s from Latvia, together with her parents and grandparents. She was a teenager with no concept of culinary greatness except for the Russian Jewish foods cooked by her loving grandmothers. Her mother, she said, and I could hear her smiling as she said it, is not a very good cook.

Janna experienced the usual immigrant struggles but eventually fit into Israeli life, learning to speak perfect Hebrew. Grown up, she worked for a while as an airline stewardess to finance her university studies. Those international flights opened up opportunities to try out new cuisines. The interest in food took root, that would later develop into a passion. Although her studies focused on translation, her publisher husband drew her into the world of editing and magazine publication. Inevitably, she wrote about food. Seeing how successful that was, the Gurs launched Al HaShulchan Gastronomic Media and the magazine in 1991.

“I’m interested in food as culture, how restaurants and markets work, who the people eating are, and what they’re eating,” Janna said. “I’d love to have more food articles and food writing in Al HaShulchan, but the readers demand lots of recipes, so we provide them.” Apart from intriguing recipes, the magazine features beautiful photographs, in-depth articles, cooking techniques, and restaurant and cookbook reviews.

Janna has witnessed, and influenced, the development of an identifiable Israeli cuisine, one that takes full advantage of the rich food variety available here. (“Israel is a paradise of fruit and vegetables,” she says.) It’s a cuisine suited to the climate and temperament of the Israeli, a sophisticated one that broke off from French and Italian models to develop its own unique taste.  Keeping track of the new cuisine could fill a lifetime, but Janna is already moving in another direction.

“I hate the word gourmet,” she says passionately. “How about a soft-boiled egg, one of the world’s most delicious foods – isn’t that gourmet? Why not? What does gourmet mean – another elegant recipe, or simply what tastes good to you?”

Part of the beauty of Israeli cooking is how it evolved out of narrowly ethnic Sephardic communities whose cooking was influenced by the local style and which used only local ingredients. As the Jews of Iraq, Syria, Egypt and other countries left their ancient homes to settle in the safer West, they left the old foodways behind. The labor-intensive dishes that Grandma cooks seem old-fashioned and inconvenient. Modern working women are too busy to cook that way, so the old foods have become Shabbat treats at Grandma’s table only.

“The new generation has grown up not knowing the taste of the old foods. People don’t have the craving, the nostalgia for the old foods that compels you to go to the kitchen and start recreating them.” (I had a sudden flashback to my mother’s black beans and rice). “Whole cultures based on family gatherings, that are in turn based on eating specific foods, are dying out.”

When I asked Janna what culinary trends she sees for Israel, she replied that the new interest in organic produce, simplicity, and returning to sustainable agriculture will create a wider place for ethnic cooking. Some lesser-known styles such as Syrian-Jewish may become fashionable.

Janna edits and supervises many projects connected to Al Hashulchan, but her heart is in a new project aimed at preserving the old ethnic foodways: The Treasure Box.

“I want this not to be a ‘living museum,’ but a site that encourages people to reintroduce their traditional foods back into their lives. Ethnic cooking is an important cultural point that has received little attention. Jewish languages, music, and folklore are well documented, but not the old foodways, ways that Jews lived by till only recently.”

Janna asks that people compile family cookbooks and family stories about food and submit them to her site. She declares that the material will be free-access. She will not copyright volunteered material, nor intends to profit from it. She mentioned that the project needs a sponsor.

I thought all this over after our interview, and the more I thought about it, the more valuable the Treasure Box project seems to me. Food history is intimately tied to our background, our roots. What a pity to let the foods of our grandparents die away as we turn towards convenience and food products.

I, too, encourage you to write down your family’s favorite old-fashioned Jewish dishes and submit them to the Treasure Box – then put on an apron and cook some of them up yourself.

Thanks, Janna.