The Passover Game Plan

Wish me luck.

The one sad photo on my phone from Passover ‘22.

I hosted my first Passover Seder last year.  The two-night event has traditionally been the domain of my aunt and my mom, with my cousin taking on the duties in recent years.  As a kid, I didn’t love the holiday, which forced strange foods (matzah, gefilte fish, horseradish!) onto my delicate palate.  Plus, the endless rituals and prayers really undermined my pressing agenda of running around the living room like a maniac.

As I grew older, I came to love those strange Passover foods (although, let’s be honest — the real draw of the Seder is getting to sing Dayenu – it’s a banger).  There’s something about eating things once a year that makes them special, even if they’re not necessarily the dishes I crave every day (see also: Thanksgiving cuisine).

For the uninitiated, Passover is a holiday that celebrates both Spring and Moses leading the Hebrews out of bondage.  Personally, I love a seasonal liberation narrative.  We celebrate by gathering for a Seder wherein we bless food, sing songs (such as aforementioned pop anthem Dayenu) and retell the story of Passover — aka Pesach if you really want to get authentic.  There’s wine, there’re four questions, and there’s even an interactive recital of plagues.  This holiday has it all.

There are also foods, traditional and ritual.  On the latter end, we have karpas — something green (think parsley or celery) which we dip in saltwater — greens to acknowledge Spring and renewal, saltwater to represent tears of slaves. There’s also horseradish, a.k.a. maror, whose role as the “bitter herb” represents the bitterness of slavery.  And lastly we also have charoset, a fruity mixture of apples, nuts, and wine (or perhaps dates, apricots, raisins — many variations depending on geography and ancestry).  The charoset represents the mortar slaves used to build things like the pyramids.  Those are some of the foods that are ceremonially connected to the Seder.

But then there are the foods that are culturally traditional, at least in the US:  matzah ball soup, gefilte fish, chicken, potatoes, and a braised meat, to name a few.  But this is the part where Padma Lakshmi tells the Top Chef contestants, “CHEFS, you didn’t think you’d have it easy, did you?  For this challenge, there can be no leavened bread. That means no fermented grain products in any dish.  GOOD LUCK.” 

Yup, the signature twist of Passover is no leavened bread — hence matzah, the flat, crispy quasi-cracker that at its worst tastes like literal cardboard and at its best actually can have a lovely crisp to it like an unsalted tortilla chip or even papadum.  (Protip:  invest in some wide, circular shmurah matzah instead of those boxes of Manischewitz that’ve been sitting in the back room of your supermarket since last April).

Why do I bring any of this up? Well, for all my life I’ve been going to Seders, but I rarely ever had any say over the menu. The control-freak in me could no longer be subdued; so last year, I invited 15 people over for my first ever Passover bonanza.  I did it because a) it was the first time I had space to host that many people, and b) I really wanted to challenge myself to make interesting and different Passover foods while still working within the confines of the holiday (aka no bread).

It was a lot of work — I honestly couldn’t believe I had churned out so much food — but the payoff was wonderful.  Everyone seemed to have a great time, all the dishes were a hit, and I got to share a bit of my Jewish traditions with my LA crew.

This year, the stakes are higher: my parents are joining.  Yes, they are flying from New York for the event, which means the pressure is on. It’s not that they have wild expectations of me; I just want to make something they’ll really enjoy.  And so I’m crafting a menu of dishes that were a hit from last year plus new things I want to try this go around.

The following is my gameplan for the big night, subject to last minute change.

Horseradish

This is one case where I reject Ina Garten’s mantra “store-bought is fine.”  Store-bought is actually not fine (unless it’s your only option, in which case, it’s FINE).  Making fresh, homemade horseradish is easy, especially if you have a food processor.  All you need is a horseradish root, sugar, vinegar, and water.  My grandma Sylvia’s recipe is legendary — known for detonating atomic bombs in nasal passages far and wide. It takes only ten minutes to make, and is so, so excellent.  It’s sharp, briny, and fiery… but it also totally mellows out when paired with other ingredients; so don’t be scurred.  Just treat it with respect and don’t be a hero.  This is the only horseradish that should be on the Seder table.  Recipe to follow below.

Matzah Ball Soup

Here’s something crazy: for matzah ball soup I just use the recipe on the back of the Manischewitz matzah meal container.  I really should branch out — I have books by Jewish cookery legends Joan Nathan, Claudia Roden, and Yotam Ottolenghi (not to mention Ina Garten, Melissa Clark, and Alison Roman, who are both members of the Tribe). Surely one of those people has an excellent matzah ball recipe.  If I’m feeling bullish, I’ll try to elevate my game.  But honestly, some things just work.  As the kids say, keep an eye on this space. (Update: my mom will be making the matzah balls; so this is out of my hands)

Charoset

I asked my mom for her charoset recipe last year, and it was basically “Just chop up some apples and mix with raisins, dates, walnuts, wine and sugar.”  So I did that until it tasted amazing.  As I alluded to earlier, there’s a whole range of charoset approaches, but I like this mix the most. Some people may enjoy dried apricots or other fruits of that ilk, but I think apricots are gross; so I just lean into dates — which is a mindset that never fails me. My mom has also taken over charoset duty this year.

Gefilte Fish

People are terrified of gefilte fish.  I think it has to do with branding.  “Gefilte” just sounds terrible.  And honestly, gefilte fish sold in jars at the store is terrible.  It tastes like “gefilte” sounds, which is not chic.  But homemade gefilte fish is a whole other story. I love it. 

Gefilte fish is basically a fish ball.  It’s made of whitefish such as cod or pike and poached in a stock made of wine and fish bones and fish heads and adorable things like that.  The dish is served cold, usually with some gelee from the chilled stock and an adorable slice of carrot that sits atop the fish like a beret.

Like many foods from across the Jewish diaspora, there are different schools of thought for gefilte fish. The big divide centers around sugar vs. no sugar.  It’s like the Jewish version of the cornbread dilemma (but with fish). I like a happy medium — just a touch of sugar, but not so much that it tastes like I’m eating fishy pound cake.

Last year I made a last minute decision to add gefilte fish to the menu, which meant I didn’t have time to source all the fish bones and whatever other business goes into a traditional preparation.  Luckily, I found a very good recipe on Taste of Home for gefilte fish that cuts down on the fuss but still tastes great.  I plan to trot it out again this week.

Here’s what I particularly liked about the recipe. First, in addition to white fish, the recipe calls for salmon, which I find more flavorful that just your run of the mill cod or pike.  Second: garlic. This is the only gefilte fish recipe I’ve found that incorporates garlic, and honestly, I don’t know why that is.  It’s known that garlic improves everything (except maybe chocolate cake); so why are we not promoting more garlic in our gefilte fish?  The recipe calls for one clove, which is lovely, but this year I may be wild and add three or four.  Since gefilte fish is served cold, a lot of flavors are muted; so I really want to make sure the garlic comes through.

Notably, I’ve spent the past few days browsing other gefilte fish recipes, and I came across Joan Nathan’s recipe for Alaskan halibut and salmon gefilte fish terrine.  It’s cooked in a Bundt pan and looks amazing.  I’m particularly intrigued by the recipe calling for four diced and sautéed Spanish onions.  Intriguing.  I may incorporate one diced Spanish onion into this year’s preparation.  Don’t worry – I will keep everyone updated on this pressing gefilte matter.

Chicken

A Passover meal begs for chicken, and I’m torn between two options. Alison Roman’s sticky pineapple chicken— a.k.a. “#1 Chicken” — is never not absolutely amazing.  I like the idea of throwing an Asian-inspired chicken into a staid Passover meal.  But that being said, I have concerns it will clash with other dishes.  A strong alternate is Sami Tamimi’s glorious take on chicken musakhan, whose warm spice rub of cinnamon, allspice, and sumac will play off the other dishes perfectly — particularly the charoset.  Musakhan feels right.  #1 Chicken feels bold.  I think this is a year for boldness.

Meat

I don’t keep a kosher household, but on Jewish holidays I try not to be flagrantly un-kosher — so, no pork (although, I may mix meat and dairy if I’m totally honest).  That means we’re looking at lamb or beef.  Alison Roman just posted a fascinating brisket on her YouTube channel, which is tempting… but also, I’m not sure heavy, wet meat is how I’m feeling in 2023.  I also considered Ina Garten’s Provençal leg of lamb, but lamb is oddly divisive, and I don’t feel like courting controversy.  And so I’m going to take a page out of last year’s Seder and make Beef Shashlik with Tahini and Pistachio Sauce from the book Samarkand.  These kebabs are fantastic, and this time around, I’m going to make my life a little easier and just cook them under the broiler rather than over the grill or in a pan.

Salad

If it’s salad, it’s gotta be little gems with garlicky lemon and pistachio.

Potatoes

Passover is a time for potato kugel.  But it’s also a time for a million other things that want to be in the oven; so I’m going to revisit a dish I made last year:  melting potatoes with dill, also from Samarkand.  My friend Sylvia first hyped me to this dish, and I’m so glad she did.  These potatoes are creamy and crispy, full of wonderful garlic and dill flavor.  And most importantly: it’s basically a hands-free dish that can simmer away on a literal back burner while you tend to all the other chaos in the kitchen.  I’m going to up the game this year with duck fat because why not.

A Roasted Green Thing

I want something green and roasted.  Andy Baraghani has three intriguing contenders in his book The Cook You Want To Be:  Peas with Big Hunks of Feta and Zhoug; Fall-Apart Caramelized Cabbage Smothered in Anchovies and Dill; and Charred Brussels Sprouts with Creamy Nuoc Cham.  All three recipes look absolutely amazing, but I’m in my cabbage era; so that’s the direction we’re taking this Seder.

Something Carrot-y

Passover is a time when tzimmes hits the table.  A Jewish stew of carrots and dried fruit, tzimmes can be a delight, but with so much going on at the table, I just don’t feel like leaning into “stew.”  Instead, I’ve decided that an interesting carrot dish would be a suitable nod to tzimmes instead.  Smooshed Carrots with Cilantro-Pistachio Pesto and Pickled Onions is my selection here – thanks in part to an undeniable photo in Ottolenghi Test Kitchen: Shelf Love.  I love that I can make this dish early in the day and serve it room temperature, and for those who hear the “c” word and get uneasy, I assure you that I plan to sub in parsley for the cilantro.

Dessert

I’ve been exploring Gâteau: The Surprising Simplicity of French Cakes recently, and that’s thanks to a podcast listener who rapturously recommended author Aleksandra Crapanzano’s Pain de Gênes recipe.  It’s an almond cake that relies on egg whites for its lift, which is cool and all, but also scary since I suspect there’s a 50-50 chance I’ll deflate those marvelous stiff peaks.  Maybe I’ll add a macaroon to the mix as backup…

The good news is that I’m doing a smaller Seder this year.  The bad news… I haven’t started cooking yet.  Wish me luck…

Grandma Sylvia’s Horseradish

Ingredients:

1 lb fresh horseradish root

1 cup vinegar (I use white)

1/2 cup water

1/2 tsp sugar

The Steps:

1. Peel the horseradish with a vegetable peeler. It won’t be perfect and spotless, but try your best.

2. Roughly dice the root - you’re essentially preparing it for your machinery. If you see any black or brown spots, slice them away and discard.

3. Put the horseradish and remaining ingredients into a blender and blend away until it becomes a wet, pulpy texture. You’re done!

   1. You don’t need the texture to be super smooth like a soup. I’m not sure you even can achieve that. But don’t make it too course.

   2. Use caution when opening the blender because that horseradish scent will attack!