Cooking Makes a Comeback

So much promised for the new year. Handing over private information you wouldn't share with a stranger at a bar (thanks, census); the Dubai International Arabian Horse Championships (book early!); and, of course, waiting with baited breath to see if residents of Vancouver, Washington, tired of playing second fiddle to British Columbia, change the town's name to Fort Vancouver (a civic initiatve launched at no less hallowed ground than Tommy O's).

And, of course, the blog. I've been inspired by the discovery of some of my grandmother's recipes (long thought lost) and this New York Times story, which features non-Jewish chefs who cook their spouses' kosher favorites on the holidays.

As my friend points out, the article is "amazing because basically every couple is jewish woman-goy man... quite a change for the shiksha-loving NYTimes... when did this happen? "

Thanks for getting with it, NYT.

Your moment of zen:

“I would love to cook the Seder meal,” one famous non-Jewish chef said of Passover dinner with his in-laws. (He asked to remain anonymous to avoid their wrath.) “The food has got to be better.”

Clearly he's been married long enough to anticipate the wrath. Good job, anonymous.

This Soup Will Save Your Life

I've been living without air conditioning, either because I'm a masochist or lazy, or some combination thereof. (Though I do have a mighty fine box fan in the window.)

Anyway, as a result, I've been making this cherry soup like crazy. It was the star of the first-ever Brooklyn Kosher-Test Kitchen. It's inspired by Mark Bittman, but I've changed it. It is also as parve as you wanna be.

Ingredients
1-2 pounds sour cherries -- one bag or plastic container should make about 4 servings
1 tsp cornstarch mixed w/ 2 tsp water
pinch salt
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp grated lemon zest
2 tbs canned cream of coconut (to taste)

Directions
Pit the cherries -- a messier ordeal than you might imagine. (At least, for this slob it is.) Put them in a saucepan with water to cover. Add cornstarch, salt, cinnamon. Cook on medium heat, until the cherries are very soft. Depending on how ripe they are, this could take anywhere from 20 - 30 minutes.

Add the lemon zest, then the canned cream of coconut. Puree with an immersion blender. This can also get messy! I wouldn't puree all the way - it's more interesting that way.

Chill.

Serve with ice cubes, sprigs of mint, yogurt (which makes it not parve, fyi). I particularly like it with fage and sprinkled with crushed walnuts.

The soup can be a first course, dessert, breakfast -- depending on how much you sweeten it. In that way, it's like those versatile dresses that get popular every few years, that you can wear in 101 stupid ways.



Difference between soup and dress? Soup you can eat. And it is considerably less complicated than the above.

FYI: Bittman calls for sugar to sweeten, but I think we all eat too much white sugar as it is. And this cream of coconut -- which you can freeze, by the way -- is kosher, and keeps the dish extra fruity.

Long, Strange Trip + turkey kebabs and mint chutney

It wasn't strange at all, or very long. I journeyed, among other places, to the land of Lewis and Clark. This was pretty thrilling for someone who grew up playing the Oregon Trail video game at day camp.

Anyway, prior to this, I held my first Brooklyn Test Kitchen: Cheeseburger-a-thon at my apartment. The goal was to create a beef burger with blue cheese. The result was a turkey kebab with a strange cheese "sauce." Or rather, because the cheese was parve -- made with vegan ingredients -- a "cheese" sauce. Also, because it was the nine days -- the period of time before Tisha B'Av, a mournful day of fasting on the Hebrew calendar, and a time when one typically, or traditionally, does not eat meat -- I couldn't find beef anywhere in all of Brooklyn. Only ground turkey.

In the end, I made delicious kebabs, served with sour cream and mint chutney. The kebabs, or sausages, are quite hearty and delicious, and taste like red meat (but for way less calories or environmental impact, for that matter). The "cheese" sauce is still in the test area; I'm going to experiment with nutritional yeast for the next go-round.

Kebabs/Sausage Patties

1 pound ground turkey
1 egg
2 - 3 cloves garlic, chopped
1/2 onion, chopped
handful minced dill
handful minced chives
pinch ground ginger
2 tbs (or more) chicken curry (powdered)
1/4 cup breadcrumps (optional -- for a Pesach version, leave it out; the worcestershire sauce too)
splash worcstershire sauc

Mix all of those ingredients in a bowl -- but do not overmix. Then form into very small - about 1.5 - 2 inch patties -- and grill, either outside, on a stove-top pan, or in the broiler. Truly delicious. I served them with Tofutti sour cream, which is parve. To go with it, you can also whip up a super fast mint chutney.

Chutney courtesy Epicurious.com
1 cup packed fresh mint leaves
4 scallions, coarsely chopped
1 small fresh green serrano chile, coarsely chopped (1 to 1 1/2 teaspoons), including seeds
1 large garlic clove, chopped
1/4 cup fresh lime juice
2 tablespoons water
2 teaspoons sugar
3/4 teaspoon ground cumin
3/4 teaspoon salt

Blend ingredients a food processor, and you're done.

The take-home of the whole event was that cooking is so much like writing. You think you're going to make one thing, and in the end it's something else. The trick of it is to figure out what you've done, and what to do with it.

Parve Cornbread

So I'm a huge meat person. But more and more, I look to vegan recipes, especially for side dishes. That makes it possible to serve a meat entree with side dishes that would otherwise be milchik - and therefore not kosher.

This cornbread recipe comes courtesy of my friend's cousin. She writes:

This is a delicious basic vegan cornbread. It is moist and crunchy and corntastic. It is not a sweet bread, but a bread to be savored with soup or smothered with guacamole. For best results, use old-fashioned cornmeal.

Ingredients
2 cups cornmeal (I like coarse ground)
1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
2 teaspoon baking powder
1/3 cup canola oil
2 tablespoons maple syrup
2 cups soy milk
2 teaspoons apple cider vinegar
1/2 teaspoon salt

Directions
Preheat oven to 350, line a 9x13 baking pan with parchment paper or spray the bottom lightly with non-stick cooking spray.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the soy milk and the vinegar and set aside.

In a large bowl, sift together the dry ingredients (cornmeal, flour, baking powder and salt).
Add the oil and maple syrup to the soy milk mixture. Whisk with a wire whisk or a fork until it is foamy and bubbly, about 2 minutes.

Pour the wet ingredient into the dry and mix together using a large wooden spoon or a firm spatula. Pour batter into the prepared baking pan and bake 30-35 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Slice into squares and serve warm or store in an airtight container.

I can't believe it's kosher, part 1

Idea. Coca-Cola shares its red jacket with the West's most famous fat man. No, not the unsung heroes of Nathan's Famous hot-dog eating contests.

I mean, Joey Chestnut and Takeru Kobayashi are hardly porkers:




I'm talking about this guy.



He didn't figure that big into my childhood, either, but neither did Coke.

Which brings me to my point.

In 1931, the Coca-Cola company hired Haddon Sundbloom to create an image of Santa drinking Coke. Until Sundbloom's portrait, Santa was more commonly pictured like this:



Wait, no.

He looked like this:



Or this:



Or this:



Basically, if Coca Cola is responsible for creating the greatest goy in the world, then how come Orthodox Jews will drink this stuff on Pesach? Why, in fact, is Coke kosher at all?

As my friend points out: Coca Cola came out of Santa's rib.

I can't believe it's not kosher

Coming back late from Montauk yesterday, I noticed that the local bodega carried Vosges chocolate, a surprisingly highbrow brand for a place that devotes several shelves to Spam. While waiting for my friend, I perused the options. Mine eyes alighted on Mo's Bacon Bar, described as "applewood smoked bacon, Alder wood smoked salt, deep milk chocolate. 41% cacao."

Doth mine eyes deceive me?

Honestly I couldn't believe it. Was I tempted? No, because I was conditioned to think that bacon smells like vomit. (Even so many years after graduating I still feel that way.) But I'm sure the salt + chocolate thing is excellent. So the truth is, in fact, I was a little jealous.

Anyway, a Google Images search revealed that it is, in fact, a thing. (More-observant readers might want to avert their eyes.)







I thought when it came to food that was bad for you, we were the light upon the nations.

But no.

Acceptable vs non-acceptable hecshers

In order for something to be kosher, it has to have a hecsher, or "kosher approval" stamp, on it.


The gold standard:



Also acceptable:




But, beware the somewhat questionable:

Brief Interviews With Hideous Recipes

Dahl and paneer, courtesy of Mrigaa Sethi.

Dahl
Directions
Boil some dahl (lentils) and water (roughly 1:3 ratio) with turmeric and salt, and once it's turned into a nice loose porridge-like consistency, after about 15-20 minutes, heating ghee, cumin, garlic, and hot paprika in a small pan and tossing it over the dahl makes the whole thing BLOOM! Et voila. Eat with rice and yogurt (see if you can find an organic brand, without stabilizers), and you have a delicious, quick, and protein-rich meal.

Paneer
Directions
You'll need a cheesecloth, and you can find one easily at most food stores. Make sure it's a fine mesh, not one with giant holes.

Bring your desired volume of whole milk (half-gallon? quarter-gallon?) to a slow boil, and as it begins to rise, pour two tablespoons of vinegar into it. The milk and the whey will begin to separate immediately.

Add another tablespoon of vinegar if you think you need to -- eyeballing is a valuable skill in all cooking! -- and once you have this fluffy, beautiful white stuff, drain it into your cheese cloth, squeeze out the water, and wash out the vinegar. This is paneer.

You can cook the paneer as-is, with cumin, turmeric, triumvirate of spices, chopped onions and tomatoes.

If you want a block of paneer instead, tie up the cheese cloth tight and place a weight (I use a pot full of water) on it. In two or three hours, you'll have a solid brick.

Brief Interviews With Hideous Men No. 1

My father used to say that only in India would people understand why, if you put a little bit of cheese into an enormous vat of meat, you have to throw the whole thing away. It's because the country's Hindus, Jains, Buddhists, and Muslims get the concept of religiously-mandated eating. Also helpful: so much Indian food adheres to the regulations of kashrut. And given the recent opening of a fleishik Indian restaurant in Teaneck, not to mention the many vegan yogurts and milk products that make it possible to cook chicken tikka masala, it seems that kosher Indian food is having a bit of a renaissance.

To that end, I interviewed Mrigaa Sethi, a cook, writer, and teacher who grew up in India and Thailand. Mrigaa came to the U.S. for college, and presently lives in Park Slope, Brooklyn. She holds degrees from Emerson College and the M.F.A. program at New York University, and she is one hell of a cook. Lucky for us, she shared tips about cooking Indian food with ease and a few of her favorite recipes. This is part 1 of 2 installments.

Who taught you to cook?

My mother, of course! Though if you ask her, she'll say having me in the kitchen still makes her crazy! She gets anxious watching me wield a knife with my left hand!

Seriously, though, at home I was never expected to learn these things -- none of that "you must learn to cook for your husband" stuff. But after a year away at college in America, trekking out in the snow for mediocre $13 curries, I came home and seemed to pick up my basics in just a couple of months. These days my mother imparts recipes and ideas over the phone, or even via G-chat.

Can you could suggest some typical and simple Indian recipes?

There is an impression out there that Indian food is laborious and technically complicated, but it's not -- unless you hate chopping vegetables.

It doesn't get any more basic than dahl (lentil soup). It's the anchor of every meal. In India, dahl is even used as a symbol of any kind of food, a la "All I want in life is dahl and roti and someone to love." The yellow (split mung) dahl is easy, versatile, and absurdly flavourful.



My other answer is paneer (or Indian "cottage cheese" -- it's only the appearance that's similar, so don't substitute). People recognize paneer from restaurants, but it's possibly even easier to make than dahl.



Top three ingredients any amateur cook of Indian food needs in her kitchen.

I could write a whole cookbook around the blessed triumvirate of cumin (zeera), turmeric (haldi), and hot paprika (deghi mirch) -- if you don't want the whole thing turning bright red, however, replace with coarsely ground red chili powder. I'm still amazed at the range of flavours and dishes these spices are able to churn out. They really enhance the individual properties of whatever produce you're working with.

Technically speaking, is there anything absolutely vital to do when preparing Indian food? I've read that sauteeing the spices separately, then adding to the main dish, is key. True?

That's a great tip!

Have you got others?

1. Grind your own garam masala. Super easy in a coffee grinder -- just clean it out by grinding stale bread before and after, and wiping down with a damp cloth.

2. Sometimes my mother toasts cumin seeds until they're nearly black (tread with caution!) and grinds them coarsely (with a rolling pin, say).

3. Add a generous sprinkle of toasted cumin to some beaten yogurt with grated cucumbers and salt. Homemade raita -- a savory yogurt, with variations (cucumbers, boiled potatoes, onions and tomatoes), added to one's plate at the table.

3. After-you-turn-off-the-stove additions: cilantro, green chillies (get the tiny, short, bird-beak looking ones from an Asian market), or even a teaspoon of vinegar, in some cases.

The Terrors and Pleasures of Kashrut Certification

Check it. http://www.kashrut.com/Alerts/ has an ongoing list, culled from rabbis around the world, about incorrectly labeled products. Some are milk, though labeled parve. Some are non-kosher, though labeled kosher (hekshered).

A sample:

Due to recent changes, only several Maalox products remain OU certified. Check packaging before purchasing.

Williams-Sonoma Chipotle Almonds and Williams-Sonoma Sweet Spiced Pecans, Williams-Sonoma, Inc. San Francisco, CA contain dairy ingredients as listed on the ingredient panel but the dairy designation has been inadvertently omitted. Future packaging will be revised.

And you thought your life was complicated. Bet you never considered that Maalox could be non-kosher.

Brief Interviews With Hideous Men

The title of this post comes from a David Foster Wallace collection of short stories, which in early 2009 John Krasinski transformed into what seems to have been a relatively crappy movie.

It's been said before, but I'll say it again: Wallace was a genius. His essay, "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again" -- the title piece of his 1998 essay collection -- fundamentally transformed my approach to journalism.

Anyway, he killed himself in September of 2008, shocking the hell out of me and everyone I know.

In his honor, I'm incorporating a new feature to What Is This Kosher... Interviews with people cooking, brewing, shopping innovative kosher foods. They are not at all hideous, and they are not all men. First installment should be up this week.

Fresh Food and the Law

Not totally Jewish-related, but all farmer's markets in New York will now accept WIC. WIC, which stands for the Women, Infants and Children program, defines its mission as providing grants "for supplemental foods, health care referrals, and nutrition education for low-income pregnant, breastfeeding, and non-breastfeeding postpartum women, and to infants and children up to age five who are found to be at nutritional risk."

New York is the first state in the nation to make the change. Previously, recipients could only put $20 per year toward farmer's markets.

I'm all about the farmer's markets -- as previously discussed, the farmer's market at Steamboat Landing is one of the best things about Ithaca. But if I can't afford to shop New York's farmer's markets regularly -- and if I'm in pretty good company -- I'm not sure how anybody on WIC is going to swing it. The milk's delicious, but I mean, it's $8 a quart. At that price, you start to feel guilty for putting it in your coffee. I can barely deal as it is with Harlem prices, where organic milk goes for $5.49 for a half-gallon. Is it that much better for you? Or the cow?

The new legislation, signed in to law by David "I didn't sign up for this" Paterson, opens up a whole debate about the extent of freedom of choice to which people receiving government money are entitled. Theoretically, I'm for greater choice. But in this case, should we focus more on encouraging good nutrition and stocking supermarkets in low-income areas with fresh, affordable food, than on granting universal access to hydroponically-grown kale?

Gross non-kosher organic materials in our food supply, No. 1

Oh, hello! I'm Dactylopius coccus Costa, but my friends call me cochineal, or carmine for short. You might recognize me from such places as:





Circa 1980. Sources now tell me that m&ms are, in fact, kosher.

Who knows from this parve?

Parve. Merriam-Webster defines it as "made without milk, meat, or their derivatives." Meaning, it counts as neither meat -- a.k.a. fleishik -- or milk -- a.k.a. milchik. Parve is my best friend, the ultimate loophole.



So, OK, what's parve? There's the obvious: vegetables, fruit, grains (like pasta), juice, alcohol.

Then there are the foods that will trick you. The ones that, logically speaking, should be meat, but that are, in fact, parve: fish and eggs.


*Note: Mexican walking fish not actually kosher*

And then there ones that masquerade as milk, but that are parve, too: mayonnaise, margarine, all soy "milk" products, like yogurt, milk, and cheese.

The concept of parve is vital because anything that you make with parve ingredients can be served with either a meat OR a milk meal.

For instance:

• Mashed potatoes made with margarine - can be served alongside steak, brisket, roast chicken, etc
• Soy margarine or yogurt that takes the place of butter or buttermilk in baking, so you can serve cornbread (or whatever) with meat chili
• Dark chocolate (check to be sure). Melted, it can be mixed with parve margarine, flour and egg whites to make a delicious fondant - an amazing, loophole-to-end-all-loopholes dessert to follow a meat meal

Parve is generally denoted by a P on food products. If you don't care about the heksher, then check the ingredients yourself. Kind of amazing what you'll find -- like cochineal, a nice way of referring to the red bugs from whence red M&Ms get their color.

Macromamas' tasty treats

So I've got to give a shout out to the Ithaca-based Macromamas, which is hands-down the most delicious hippie food I've ever eaten. Totally macro, totally vegetarian, totally kosher.
The peanut lime noodles can't be beat. The recipe is secret, but here is what I've been able to piece together. I need to work a bit more on the proportions, but this should work:

Several pounds soba noodles, preferably whole wheat
3 tbs Peanut butter (smooth, not chunky; whatever kind of natural, organic brand suits your fancy)
2 tbs pickled ginger, finely chopped
2 tbs lime juice
2 tbs rice vinegar
2 tbs chili sauce
2 tbs sesame oil
3 carrots, grated
3 scallions, green parts only, finely cut
1 bunch parsley, chopped
salt and pepper to taste

Cook noodles according to package instructions. Drain and set aside. Combine wet ingredients, add to noodles. Then add carrots, scallions, and parsley. DEVOUR.

On Traif

So a friend graciously pointed out that there is a problem with the glossary. She told me that traif, which means not-kosher, is a noun. Not an adjective. In my heart of hearts I knew that, but I guess I'd wanted to simplify things by saying it was only one or the other. Urban Dictionary calls it a noun; it's only right to go with a source that has not one but two definitions for Designated Texter. Who knew? Frankly, where I teach, all students are "designated texters."

That said, I'd also like to add that traif can be used as a verb.

I.e., "If you rub pork on my counter, you'll traif up my kitchen!"

Food-related grammatical mistakes: No. 1

West Berlin, June 26, 1963. The Berlin Wall's been up for less than 12 months. JFK's opportunity to inspire the West - and make up for that whole Bay of Pigs thing.

"All free men, wherever they may live, are citizens of Berlin.
Ich bin ein Berliner!"

Translation: I am a jelly donut.

Who knew that JFK was such a fan of sufganiyot? You'd think he'd have been totally put off of the Jews and kosher food by that whole rabbi's curse on the house of Kennedy.

Sufganiyot are delicious, so I guess he was willing to overlook it. Or maybe there was someone in the White House who bade him look the other way.

Berlin, by the way, is packed with ein berliner-themed souvenirs.
I brought home a million bumper stickers of jelly donuts saying, Ich bin ein berliner! They look like turds, and they get funnier with time.

Check out Eddie Izzard's hilarious take on this here.

Parve BBQ + delicious potato salad

A good friend of mine from college once told me that her grandmother made the world's best potato salad. Her secret? After frying up the bacon, she poured the grease from the pan INTO the salad - instead of pouring it down the drain or whatever it is bacon-eaters do to be rid of the stuff.

Amazing, no? Especially when used in addition to mayo?


Kind of stretches the definition of salad. But I hear it's delicious. *By the way, that's bacon, not an anchovy.

Anyway, the Barefoot Contessa has some great suggestions on how to make a non-mayo, non-baconified salad, which was apparently influenced by Julia Child. You can bring it to a totally kosher bbq, because the version below is parve (though Barefoot Contessa's is fleishich). I've modified it for taste, fatness, and budgetary constraints. If you prefer a more-tangy recipe, up the mustard and the white wine. Also, if you don't have champagne vinegar on hand, feel free to skip, and substitute lemon juice or more wine. By the way, this is a great way to use up any Tishbi or Baron Herzog you have lying around -- or to get rid of the bottle your mother-in-law brought over for Shabbos, because you'd rather drink (traif) Sancerre.

• A few pounds red potatos (the regular-sized ones are fine)
• 2 tbs Champagne vinegar
• 2 tbs vegetable stock - try Osem or any other brand
• 3 tbs dry white wine
• 2 tbs mustard
• Bunch of fresh dill
• Basil, if you have a fresh bunch on hand
• 10 tbs good olive oil
• one bunch scallions
• a couple handfuls snap peas

Boil the potatoes, but not within an inch of their life. Chop roughly. Toss with white wine and vegetable stock while the potatoes are still warm. Osem is not the most delicious, but it's way cheaper than Pacific or Imagine. And it comes in a powder form, so you don't have to worry about using up the quart left over from a recipe that calls for only two tablespoons of stock.

Mix the remaining wet ingredients as you would any dressing; pour over the potatoes. Chop up the scallions, snap peas (these are delicious raw), dill, and basil, if you have it. Add salt and pepper to taste.

OMG, I can't stop with the ghee

Ghee is clarified butter, and it is fundamental to delicious Indian food. It gives everything - rice, veggies, whatever - the aromatic smell and flavor that you get walking into an Indian restaurant. It's available in cow-based (traif) and veggie versions, though the vegetarian stuff doesn't have a hekscher - at least not at Kalustyans, where I do my Indian shopping. I have a good friend in India, a journalist, so for those of you who won't cook without a heksher - or who are interested in preparing the ultimate loophole-busting dish (chicken tikka masala!) for your most observant friends - stay tuned for what she turns up about kosher ghee.

In the meantime, a delicious recipe adapted from Heaven's Banquet,

4 tbs ghee OR ANY NEUTRAL OIL - like canola oil (if this needs to be hekshered)
2 tbs fresh ginger, fresh
2 tsp cumin
1 medium eggplant, peeled and cut into cubes
4 potatoes, peeled and cut into cubes
salt
2 tsp turmeric
4 chopped tomatoes
2 cans (16 oz each) chickpeas
1 bunch fresh cilantro, chopped

In a saucepan, heat the ghee, then add the ginger and cumin. Add the tomatoes, then the eggplant and potatoes. Saute for 5 minutes, stirring constantly. Add the salt and turmeric. Cook for anywhere from 45 minutes to 1.5 hours - depending on the size of the cubed potatoes, which take awhile to cook. I'm pretty lazy about this (more of a rough chopper than a fine dicer), but this dish is really delicious the longer it cooks, so that the eggplant almost caramelizes. Even people who hate eggplant will enjoy.
Before you serve, add the chickpeas and clinatro. Serve with yogurt.

Why Ashkenazis hate Sephardim

Just returned from Being Jewish in France, which debuted in the U.S. back in January as part of the Jewish Film Festival but was so popular it's having a New York reprise. Directed by Yves Jeuland (not a fake name, though the similarity of Jeu and Juif/Jew is pleasing), the film tours French anti-Semitism from the Dreyfus Affair to the contemporary Jew-hating going on in the bainlieues. (Which, by the way, I witnessed firsthand back in 2003, when I was studying in Paris - but that's another story, for another post.)

The upshot? Jews are the canary in the goldmine of democracy. When things start to go south, in a democratic sense, the Jews get it. So I guess we're screwed.

The film also touched - briefly - on the difference between Ashkenazi and Sephardic cooking. The Ashkenazis, declares one (Ashkenazi) woman, have so few recipes they can barely fill a book: gefilte fish, kneidlach (called kreplach in our house, i.e., they taste like krep/crap), and dried fruit. I would add to that list tuna casserole, which I think that I mentioned previously my mother used to threaten us with, and also carrot tzimmis, the smell of which I considered my own private nightmare. Also, how could I forget? Cholent, derma, and marrow -- the latter one eats by poking out the meat from the vertebrae and then smearing it onto challah.


Really, we are gourmands.

Sephardics, by contrast - these people eat merguez sausage, they use cumin, chili peppers. No wonder the Ashkenazis hate them. Yekkes are biologically incapable of digesting this stuff.

Shalom Bombay, + kosher restaurants tend to suck

So last night we went to Shalom Bombay, the new fleishik (meat) Indian restaurant in Teaneck. Jews and vegetarian Indian food is already a documented thing , and a number of milchik Indian restaurants exist. (The history of the Jews in India's a long thing; supposedly one of the lost tribes shipwrecked there; Sadia Shephard's recent documentary deals with it in a pretty touching way.) But Teaneck's Shalom Bombay, which opened a few months ago, is the first kosher Indian fleishik place I've ever heard of.

The food was decent, although, to be honest, it didn't compare to nonkosher Indian food (meat and vegetarian) that I've had. The mixed kebab appetizer was probably the best of the meats we tried. The lamb rogan josh, chicken vindaloo, chicken jalfrezi, spinach chicken, and chicken tikka masala ranged from OK to ehh, and generally not spicy enough.

Still, it's exciting that this stuff exists, especially under such strict kosher supervision -- that even the most Orthodox among us are making use of those soy and nondairy products developed for vegans and the lactose-intolerant. And why not? Why, if we have the ability to make it, should anyone miss out on beef stroganoff (for the uninitiated, that's beef and sour cream) or chicken tikka masala -- the latter which, according to the Independent, has apparently been upseated by Peking duck as the U.K. national dish. Martin Hickman writes:

In a poll, 83 per cent of adults liked eating tangy Chinese, ahead of the 71 per cent who favoured highly-spiced Indian food. When eating out, Britons also prefer Peking duck to a lamb balti – almost a third of people have visited a Chinese restaurant in the past 12 months compared with 30 per cent who have been to a curry house.

Whatever, they just like the taste of former colonies. To wit: "more than a third reckoned their curries tasted just as good as a takeaway." Typically imperialist.

But Shalom Bombay still falls prey to the typical letdowns of most kosher restaurants. The waitstaff was rude, service was terrible, the decor hideous - and not in that way that's intentionally over the top, like Panna II Garden, the BYOB Indian place on the corner of 1st Avenue that's covered in contact paper and chili lights, that in spite of the name has no outdoor space, and that specializes in people's "birthdays."

The quality of the lamb was pretty sub-par -- very fatty. The restaurant was also terribly loud. In spite of the prices ($20 for an entree), it was more Mr. Broadway than Tabla, Floyd Cardoz's so-called New Indian venture, which operates at the same price-point. (To be fair, because it isn't serving kosher meat, its overhead is much lower; though the rent it must pay for its Union Square location has got to be a lot more than whatever Shalom Bombay pays in Teaneck).

So what's the deal? We love eating - have a reputation for it. But our restaurants, at least in the States, and even in and around New York, pretty much suck . I don't get it.

White House Seder

Continuing on the Pesach trend, was anyone else surprised that the seder held at the White House was the first one ever conducted there? So much for Adbusters' theory that Jews run the world. Anyway, CNN reported that Eric Lesser, assistant to David Axelrod, led the thing. I don't know. Seems to me that Obama's at the head of the table.

Bitter herb and parsley from Michelle's victory garden weren't available. So the pack made due with the Whole Foods variety.

Nightmare of Passover

Pesach flummoxed my mother. She'd never learned the 'right' way to do it, and so relied on an outdated and somewhat ridiculous copy of the Kosher Cookbook for Sabbath and Holidays. I remember a Pesach cake she made falling to the floor and crumbling into a million pieces. Like sand. When it happened, she threw the knife across the room. It hit the breakfront, left a dent. Grabbed her Tictacs - remember those? it was the 80s and she'd recently stopped smoking - and ran out, slamming the front door.

She came back, of course. And the cake would've been bad anyway. But she never tried to make another Pesadich dessert again. So when I got older, I did. Felt the shame/necessity of making up where my mother hadn't been able to do enough. The cake is sufficiently tasty to prepare even when it isn't Pesach. Or for people who say 'Passover' instead of 'Pesach' and who wouldn't give a crap if you served them leaven. Most important, it works for your fundamentalist mother-in-law, assuming your kitchen is properly kashered, of course.

In France, they call it fondant. We'll call it flourless chocolate cake.

Recipe after the jump.