At the Passover Table, New Traditions Will Be Born

My family never really had any holiday traditions that were unique to our family.

When I was a kid, my mom would make me an Easter basket full of small toys and chocolates. I did Trick or Treat for Halloween. On Christmas we’d have a tree and open presents. Neither of my parents are religious; my dad practices Islam and doesn’t celebrate holidays like Christmas or birthdays. He went along with it to make my mom happy, but also because he rarely forced his religious choices on us. But there wasn’t anything that was particularly sacred to just our little family. When I had my son, I made the decision to not celebrate holidays like Easter, it just created clutter in the house. As a single mom, we had small Christmases with a few presents and nothing special.

My partner grew up practicing Judaism; her mother’s family was quite observant, and as a result, so was she. Holidays were a big deal for them, as was preserving traditions. While she no longer actively practices, the cultural traditions are still important to her. So when we started dating, I made a conscious effort to not only understand, but try to incorporate her traditions into our family.

As someone with minimal family traditions, I loved the idea of preserving some of her cultural traditions, while creating some new traditions for our family. Since she’s not religious, it changes the way we celebrate Jewish holidays, but I don’t really mind. We may not go to religious services, but there is food, which is something that excites me. I bookmarked recipes in anticipation, and pumped my partner for any traces of memory to the holidays she grew up with. What did your mom make? I would ask, keeping a running list in my mind of what her mom used to baste the brisket, or what kind of seasoning her grandmother would put on the chicken. She wanted to give me my own space to try things as well, to take these sacred traditions and make them my own. There is no right or wrong way to celebrate a holiday (for the most part!) and she wanted me to feel ownership of creating our new way of celebrating.

Cooking and preparing food is something I’ve loved to do for most of my life. As an adult, making food for the people in my life became one of the easiest ways for me to show my love. Food is comfort, food is community. When I invite people over to my house for dinner, it’s because I am trying to connect with them in a more intimate way. Sitting around the table, sharing a good meal — people are at ease and can connect with each other in a different way. Your guard is down when you’re eating, you tend to be more yourself. So the fact that so many Jewish holidays include some sort of big meal was a perfect way in for me. I can replicate old traditions while making them new traditions for us.

Because my partner isn’t particularly observant, Jewish holidays often sneak up on us. Last year, I threw together what turned out to be a beautiful Yom Kippur dinner for us and some friends to break the fast (if she fasted, that is). With less than 48 hours notice, I had to haul ass to the kitchen, but I thankfully work well under pressure. I roasted a chicken because it’s something I can do in my sleep at this point, and threw some potatoes in the oven. Of course, the kids ate a few bites of chicken and the leftover mac and cheese I had made, but us adults partook in a tasty meal (if I do say so myself!). I made my first ever noodle kugel — my partner decided on a more traditional recipe for next time. (She made me buy the wrong kind of egg noodles).

This year, we’re trying to be more on top of our holiday plans. Purim snuck up on us and while I did make hamantaschen, I was about a week late. We decided that I could give a Passover dinner a try. Since it’s a holiday with no bread, it feels less daunting. I’m determined to make a challah, but if I’m being quite honest, bread scares me. Every time I think about it I get anxious; my partner found me one night hunched over my laptop watching a video on how to braid your challah. My eyes were round as saucers as the person making the bread described how each plait had to go a certain way. I know my way around buttering a piece of matzo, so I’ll stick to the rivers and the lakes that I’m used to for now.

Passover falls between both of our birthdays and this year it’s during spring break, which means it’s the perfect holiday to have friends over for. Since our friend has a kiddo as well, weeknight holidays are always a little trickier. Between work and school, it’s a late dinner, but then it can’t be too late because the boys have school the next morning. But they have fun together and don’t want to go home and it becomes a whole thing. At least this year we will be able to relax and enjoy and be a little more loose with bedtimes. We still haven’t decided if we want to do the seder, but I also suggested this year we start small. There’s plenty of time for something more elaborate next year.

My search for the perfect recipe began in early January, when on a whim I typed “Passover” into the search of the New York Times food section. My mouth watered as an array of brisket and chicken recipes presented themselves to me. We will likely invite over our same friends, which means we will probably have chicken. Between her five-year-old and our nine-year-old, I don’t want to have to make two dinners. Something with a more Middle Eastern flair is where my mind first went because it’s different and a little more special. Of course I could make chicken with 40 cloves of garlic, but I can also make that for a typical Wednesday dinner. Something that takes more time and care seems fitting for such a day.

I’m also really excited about making coconut macaroons for the first time. I used to work for a cupcake bakery that had Jewish owners, and that’s where I first fell in love with them. They’re chewy and a little dense, and of course I will be dipping them in chocolate because chocolate makes everything better. Again, they’re a low stakes dessert — it’s more about the science of assembly. If I screw them up, I can just dip some matzo in chocolate and call it a day.

Since most of our early relationship was during the height of the pandemic, we hadn’t really celebrated Jewish holidays with anyone in person until last year’s Yom Kippur break fast dinner. Our first Hanukkah, we did a Zoom with her family and I made a brisket in my Crock-Pot. It was deliciously intimate, but as someone who loves to host dinners, I was disappointed. I longed for the day it was safe enough to have friends over to partake in a holiday meal and begin to create those new family traditions I was craving.

This year feels like the first of many years where I begin to truly incorporate my partner’s cultural traditions into our family. I’m already looking forward to the years where we have more of her family over to partake in a roast chicken or brisket or pot roast. For family and friends to mingle around my table sharing stories of their own childhood observances. Maybe even for my own parents to come over and learn more about her culture.

Most importantly, I’m excited for the food. Because food is love, and love is what tradition is all about. And now, I finally have the chance to create unique holiday traditions for our family.

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Passover begins at sundown today, on Wednesday April 5, 2023.

The Traditional and Radical Queer Haggadah I Wanted Didn’t Exist — So I Wrote It Myself

I love being queer and Jewish. I love how deep and rich both traditions are. I love how both communities are multi-layered and multivocal. Judaism isn’t One Thing. Passover doesn’t celebrate One Story. The tradition speaks in a cacophony of voices that often contradict each other. As Jews (and as queers), we get to make meaning from and build on the traditions we have inherited.

I wrote Haggadah Min HaMeitzar as my contribution to the evolving conversation. When I set out to create the haggadah, I wanted to celebrate the history and depth of all of my identities and all of the traditions I have inherited, as a queer/nonbinary, environmentalist, and scholarly Jew. I also wanted to celebrate the multivocality of the haggadah itself. I intentionally made art in a variety of media (including mixed media!) to highlight that diversity. And I wrote a commentary with four voices corresponding to the four names of the holiday.

Chag HaCheirut (the Holiday of Freedom): Progressive and Queer

I spent a lot of time as a teenager worrying about whether it is okay to be queer and a religious Jew. I grew up in a very observant Conservative Jewish home. When I was 15, the rabbis who make decisions about Conservative Jewish law and practice addressed the question of ordaining openly gay rabbis. The proposed answers: No; yes with caveats; and yes without hesitation. The first two answers both passed. (Yes, they passed contradictory answers.) The final one narrowly failed the vote–because it was declared to be too radical for a simple majority rule. I spent many hours and shed many tears studying the rabbis’ essays and reviewing the texts they cited, trying to figure out where I fit in. The “yes with caveats” answer was rooted in straight supremacy and biphobia, but I wasn’t – at the time – satisfied with the way the “yes without hesitation” answer approached Jewish law and practice.

Nowadays, I don’t ask if it is okay to be queer and Jewish. I ask, “how can my queerness deepen my Judaism, and how can my Judaism deepen my queerness?” The painting above depicts the moment the Red Sea split. In the story in the Torah, the Israelites wind up at the Red Sea while being pursued by Pharaoh’s armies. They are trapped between the chariots approaching and the water in front of them, and they panic. Even Moses falls on his face. But there’s a midrash (stories rabbis have told to embellish the biblical stories, essentially rabbinic fanfiction) that says that the sea split when one Israelite, Nachshon son of Aminadav, walked into the water until it was above his nostrils — and that’s when the sea split. I depicted Nachshon as a nonbinary trans femme character, accompanied by a brief written addition to the midrash. Trans and nonbinary folks know what it means to walk into deep water, with the faith that we will make it through.

Chag HaAviv (the Springtime Holiday): Environmentalism

I work as an environmental planner helping FEMA empower local communities to reduce their risks and become more resilient. I think a lot about the environmental harm humanity has perpetrated, and the destruction that is already locked in due to climate change. I wanted to connect the themes of freedom and liberation with my fears about climate change and environmental degradation.

One of the first things we do in the seder ritual is break the middle matzah. I depicted the broken matzah as a broken earth — what is irreparably harmed? What can we stitch back together?

Chag HaMatzot (the Matzah Holiday): Embodiment

In general, I’m more comfortable in the sphere of concepts and ideas rather than tangible, corporeal bodies. But my Jewish, queer, and environmental traditions all challenge me to live fully into myself and my body. In this commentary, I sought to emphasize the parts of the Passover seder that ground us in the physicality of life — the harsh sting of the bitter herbs, the crunch of the matzah, the splash of water over our hands.

Water is a theme throughout the Passover seder. We wash our hands ritually — twice. We dip vegetables in salt water. We have water (or seltzer, symbolizing living water) in Miriam’s cup on the table. We talk about the splitting of the Red Sea, and of the Nile turning to blood. In this piece, I wanted to bring the theme of water into our own bodies. Our stories are water, our ritual is water, and we, too, are water. Water is life.

Chag HaPesach (Passover): Storytelling

And now I’m back to storytelling. The Passover seder is as much about how the story of the Exodus has been told over the millennia as it is about the story of the Exodus itself. Haggadah Min HaMeitzar is about how I approach the Jewish stories. It is deep and nuanced, and more than I could have included in one book. There are more questions than answers, and that’s how it should be.

This mixed media piece uses a (copy) of a page of Talmud to make the question mark. The text includes the Mishnah from 1800 or so years ago of the ma nishtana—the part of the seder little children to this day learn first. The Hebrew words around the edges are question words in Hebrew and Aramaic (the language of the Talmud): “what,” “why,” “how,” “really??” etc. The questions are more important than the answers.

I wrote Haggadah Min HaMeitzar because the queer, environmentalist, traditional haggadah I was searching for didn’t exist. I wrote it because I have grown beyond the question of whether I can be fully queer and fully Jewish and into the question of how being queer makes me more Jewish and how being Jewish makes me more queer. I wrote it because my voice—and all the marginalized voices I highlighted in the commentary — is valuable and part of the evolving story we continue to tell in each generation.

Min HaMeitzar means “from the narrows.” It is a phrase from Psalm118, where the psalmist cries out to God from the narrows, and God answers from a place of openness and abundance. It’s also a play on Mitzrayim (Egypt), so named because it was a narrow fertile strip adjacent to the Nile. Many commentators have talked about the spiritual metaphor of leaving the places that confine us and hold us back. This year, may we all leave those places, wading through deep waters if necessary, and move toward liberation for ourselves and each other.

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Passover begins at sundown on Wednesday April 5, 2023. If you would like to use Haggadah Min HaMeitzar at your seder this year, you can order it from the publisher here. Prints of the art from the haggadah are also available. Or, let this article inspire you to write your own haggadah! No matter how you celebrate, chag sameach.

Gey In Kikh: Passover Matzo, the Bread of Affliction

Thinking about the Ten Plagues is painfully on the nose this year. It feels like Purim, a holiday centered around joy, community, dancing, theater, took place a year ago.

It was three weeks ago.

And yet. Somehow, it’s time for one of the biggest holidays of the year, one of my favorites, one that most Jews celebrate with big family gatherings – and somehow, we’ll mark the days, and find some ways of connecting and remembering and observing. Usually we remember that we suffered, but this year… we’ll be suffering, seeing others suffer from a distance, and will be anticipating more suffering.

Last year I posted a colorful recipe with Pynk Pickled Eggs and Vegetarian Chopped Liver, and I’m hoping to make those dishes again, but this year I think we’re going to go back to basics. The most basic mitzvah of Passover is to eat the Bread of Affliction – so let’s lean into the ancestral trauma and make our own matzo.

If you want a refresher on the Passover story, I highly recommend the Dreamworks animated musical movie Prince of Egypt, available streaming on Hulu.

I’ve never made matzo before, and am vaguely aware that there are strict kosher laws around it. To be fully kosher for Passover, store-bought matzo uses grain grown in special fields and overseen from seed to final packaging by rabbis. I talked to rabbinical student Frankie Sandmel to get some advice about making matzo as a Jew interested in capturing the spirit of Passover without fully following Orthodox standards.

Frankie Sandmel is a rabbinical student who generously shared their time and knowledge to answer the questions I had. I asked what steps a non-Orthodox Jew can take to make matzo that fulfills the spirit of the law if we’re not going to grind the wheat ourselves?

They recommend “keeping within the eighteen minutes when actually getting down to cooking evokes the haste with which our ancestors made matzo in the story. If your goal is to embody that part of the narrative – we have to get out, we have to make the bread as fast as possible – plus it’s a fun challenge to set an eighteen minute timer and see if you can get it in the oven in that period of time.” The number eighteen, as well as being an approximate of the amount of time dough has before starting to rise, is the numeric equivalent of the Hebrew letter Chai, which represents life.

Personally, for me Passover is a holiday where I usually keep much stricter kosher standards than I do in my normal life – for example, I follow the Ashkenazi tradition of not eating kitniyot, or foods that could be mistaken for the five forbidden grains, including rice and legumes. Given that I know it doesn’t make sense to start with and this year is already filled with anxiety and fear, this will likely be the year to break that habit, but I’m going to have a lot of feelings about it. Many of us will have different versions of feelings about changing the way we observe while figuring out how to observe in tumultuous circumstances. I asked for advice, and Sandmel shared their perspective that “the law is not meant to make you suffer. So especially in this moment when grocery stores are unpredictable, many of us live in communal houses with non-Jews, so cleaning for Passover is much more complicated when not going to stay with family. Being a little more forgiving then you might be in other circumstances is still in the spirit of the holiday. Passover has very visceral and deep associations for many of us, especially for those of us who grew up celebrating or adopted them and adopted the gravity of them. Passover is a particularly charged holiday to be lenient about.”

For those of us who will be celebrating Passover remotely or without family for the first time, Sandmel recommends connecting through food, or “thinking of other traditions that you have in your family seder that you might want to bring to whatever community you have access to, even if it’s just you and your roommates.” The people around us, whether or not they celebrate Passover, will want to help make it a meaningful experience. And of course, call your grandparents and other elder members of your family or community that you would otherwise be seeing! We can still connect from afar, even if we can’t physically celebrate together this year.

Homemade Matzo, Bread of Affliction

We’re going to make matzo! It will not be fully kosher for Passover – if you want full adherence to kosher standards, please make sure to purchase appropriate matzo. However, I found that making it was a process that connected me to the haste and stress that it is meant to commemorate, and quickly yielded a tasty, crisp matzo.

Ingredients

Flour and water

Tools

Cookie sheet, rolling pin, fork, bowl, measuring cup, tongs, oven mitt

Recipe

1. Preheat oven to the highest temperature it can go. For my oven, it was 550 F. Place a cookie sheet in the oven when preheating begins so that it will also preheat. (Depending on how you observe Passover, you may want to cover the cookie sheet with aluminum foil).

2. Prepare a clean surface, a rolling pin, and a fork. Wash your hands thoroughly.

3. Measure out your flour and water. Don’t combine them yet! The basic ratio is 3 1/4 flour to 1 water; since that’s way too much to actually do for one person, I did 1 cup flour to 1/3 cup water (plus an extra teaspoon if necessary). I had a bit of extra time and tried to double that for the next batch and ran out of time while knocking multiple things off the table, so I’d recommend going for a maximum of 1 1/2 cups flour (and 2/3 cups water) for one person making this until you get the hang of it.

4. Once everything is in place, set a timer for eighteen minutes. We’re going to get it into the oven before it goes off!

5. Add water to flour and mix. You can use a spoon but you’ll end up having to move to kneading by hand quickly.

6. Once combined, divide into small pieces slightly smaller than your palm – one cup of flour becomes four pieces; 1 1/2 cups becomes six. Take one of the pieces and knead for 30-90 seconds until it becomes soft and pliable. I did this by kind of… tossing them between my hands and squeezing? There may be a more elegant solution.

7. Use your rolling pin to roll out the dough as thin as possible; it should end up about 6-9 inches wide. Do not add more flour to keep it from sticking! Use your fork to poke holes in a straight line across about every centimeter.

8. Repeat for all small balls of dough.

9. When ready (and it’s less than 18 minutes) open the oven and carefully (with an oven mitt!) remove the cookie sheet. Place the matzo on the sheet. They can touch but should not overlap. Bake until some browning begins; flip with tongs and bake for the same amount of time on the other side. It took about 4-5 minutes on each side in my oven; at the higher temperatures that are traditional, it takes 2-3 minutes total (including the flip).

10. Offer a matzo that didn’t turn out quite right to your cat for inspection and let the obligate carnivore be thoroughly disgusted and confused.

11. I offer you the edit to the conclusion of the Haggadah that I’ll be making this year: instead of “Next year in the promised land,” I’ll be wishing “next year in person.” I’m keeping you all in my thoughts. If you don’t have a group to celebrate with, DM me on twitter for an invitation to a Zoom Queer Seder that my friend and I are hosting.

This year, Passover begins the evening of Wednesday, April 8 and ends in the evening of Thursday, April 16.

Vegetarian Chopped Liver and Pynk Pickled Eggs for Passover: A Two-Part Recipe

Chag Pesach sameach!

Passover is my favorite Jewish holiday. I like it even more than the festivities of Purim. Autostraddle has published seven articles by seven people about Passover, so I get the sense that I’m not alone.

If you need a refresher on the holiday, I recommend The Prince of Egypt, which includes an obnoxiously catchy soundtrack. The traditional observance is to host at least one seder (a festive meal that takes unfolds in a particular order) and to not eat chametz – products of wheat, spelt (farro), barley, oats, and rye that aren’t made into unleavened matzo – for eight days. For many people of Ashkenazi (Eastern European) descent, the tradition also includes avoiding kitniyot – a broad category of things possibly similar to grains including rice, beans, lentils, and soy.

Yup. No grains, legumes, or rice for eight days. Add being a vegetarian and… ouch. The annoying thing is that kitniyot don’t even have a good justification – a 13th century Rabbi called it a “stupid custom” (translated, I assume), and Mizrahi and Sephardi Jews don’t have a practice of avoiding them. It’s absurd!

And yet. I can’t imagine Passover without those restrictions, for all that I would never impose them on anyone else. I rant about it annually, and while writing this article, decided to see if there are any other secular Jews who are keeping this up, and found a great article from Dara Lind:

“Maybe it’s just that “kvetching about it” is my preferred way of responding to this particular set of illogical rules: I’ve managed to learn how to follow them, how hard can it be? What I suspect, though, is that I’m worried about maintaining the upside of orthopraxy: the way an action forces your attention to a thought, or a value.”

I had never heard the term orthopraxy before, but I like it: the idea of a behavior or action forcing your attention to a particular value or thought, for eight days, through intentional restrictions or choices, at every meal. It’s so far outside my normal routine that it’s impossible to forget that it’s Passover, and it’s an excuse to cook lots of delicious food because buying lunch at work that isn’t a plain salad becomes pretty impossible.

So, on to the recipe. No grains, no legumes, no rice: yes, we’re going to find something delicious, savory, and vegetarian following the Ashkenazi traditions.

This recipe for vegetarian chopped liver is actually a mushroom-and-walnut pate. I grew up eating chopped liver (even as baby food!) and genuinely love the taste. I don’t eat meat anymore though, so I’ve made this recipe for a few years and it feels really homey and comfortable and hearty and celebratory. There are many vegetarian chopped liver recipes that are based on green beans and walnuts, but green beans are kitniyot, so I adapted Deb Perelman’s mushroom pâté recipe with roasted walnuts.

Vegetarian chopped liver

Ingredients:

1 ounce dried mushrooms (preferably porcini, about as much as fit into a cup)
1 cup boiling water
1/4 cup olive oil
3 tablespoons butter or earth balance, divided
1 1/2 cups diced onion
Salt and pepper to taste
1 1/2 lbs fresh mushrooms (2-3 packages in my supermarket), preferably of two or more different types – I tend to use one of white button mushrooms and one of baby bella; if you can afford nice wild mushrooms, I’m sure they’d be delicious
1/2 tsp dried thyme or 1 tsp fresh thyme
1/2 cup white wine
1/4 cup chopped walnuts, roasted and ground in a food processor (optional)

Directions:

1. If using walnuts, roast in a 350°F oven for 8-10 minutes, until lightly toasted and fragrant. Let cool, and grind in a food processor until natural oils are released. If having trouble getting it to stick together, add a small amount of neutral vegetable oil (1-2 tsp, in increments).

2. Place dried mushrooms in a small bowl with 1 cup of boiling water and let soak for at least 30 minutes while other preparations occur.

3. Wash fresh mushrooms thoroughly, remove rough stems and chop or slice evenly.

4. Heat 1/4 cup olive oil and 2 Tbsp butter or earth balance over medium heat in a pan large enough to hold all the mushrooms. Yes, it’s a lot of oil, and it is delicious and the correct amount. Add onions, and cook for 7-8 minutes until slightly brown at the edges.

5. Raise heat to high and add the fresh mushrooms, thyme, salt, and pepper.

6. Cook, stirring regularly, until mushrooms shrink, brown further, and release their liquid. There will be a surprising amount of liquid. Continue cooking until no more liquid is left, and then add the wine. Again, cook until dry.

7. Remember the soaking, dried mushrooms? Add them and the soaking liquid, but holding back the last bit with all the grit. If you want to be extra careful, strain the liquid before adding. Cook the mushrooms back down again, until there is no liquid on the pan when you drag your spatula through the mushrooms.

8. Taste the mushrooms – add more salt, pepper, or thyme to taste. Add the last tablespoon of butter and stir again.

9. Let the mushrooms cool a bit, then blend in a food processor. While waiting, see if the cat has climbed into a grocery bag. Pick up the bag at your own risk.

10. You have two options here: the more work-intensive but flexible option is to do the walnuts and mushrooms separately, and add them in a ratio that feels right to you (I tried 3 different ratios with my taste-testers, and got three different preferences, although this was our consensus). Alternatively, throw it all in at once. The mushrooms are fairly dense, so you may have to use a spoon to get the larger bits back in. I blend until mostly smooth but slightly grainy, like what I remember liver to be. You can go completely smooth if you like!

11. Let cool in the fridge for at least a few hours before serving.

I like to eat it spread on matzo, with a beet-pickled egg and some pickled onion.

Pynk Pickled Eggs

Yes friends, this is a two-for-one recipe post! These beet-pickled eggs are as beautiful as they are delicious, and would probably be great for folks who do other spring holidays as well. This recipe was shared with me by Traci L. and Ian K., and I make it mostly as written.

Ingredients:

6-12 hard boiled eggs
1 cup vinegar
1 cup water
1 tablespoon pickling spices
1 teaspoon salt
3-4 cloves of garlic
4-5 sprigs of fresh dill
1 can of beets (original recipe calls for fresh beets, boiled for 30 minutes, but I’m lazy)
3 onions, preferably red, sliced into strips

Directions:

1. Boil eggs. Feel free to use your preferred method, but the strategy I use for easy-to-peel eggs – a must at Passover – is to put eggs into cold water, bring to a boil, cover, and leave to cool until the water is cold.

2. When cool, peel eggs.

3. If using fresh beets, boil for 30 minutes and remove skins; otherwise open a can of beets and drain about half of the liquid.

4. Thoroughly clean a glass jar and put in peeled eggs, beets and remaining liquid, sliced red onion, and dill.

5. In a small pot, bring vinegar, water, garlic, spices and salt to a boil. Pour into the stuffed jar. Let cool, secure lid tightly, and shake gently before placing in fridge. They’re edible and tasty as soon as they are cold, but the eggs will turn a stunning pink in 2-4 days, and it’s worth the wait.

This year, Passover will begin in the evening of Friday, April 19 and end in the evening of Saturday, April 27.

Queering the Jewish Holidays: How I Celebrate Passover

Can I confess something? As I write this article, I haven’t ever hosted a Passover seder on my own. I moved out of my parents’ house 12 years ago and have celebrated (and not celebrated – I’m looking at you, Passover 2009 when I was traveling through Italy) Passover in a variety of ways since then, but I’ve not ever been the host of my own seder… until this year!

This year, on the first night of Passover (which is Friday, March 30 – you’re welcome!) my friend Risa and I will be hosting approximately 14 humans at a queer seder! Risa is a professional chef who hosts queer dinners in Portland, OR and has previously hosted a 30 person progressive seder for which she made her own Haggadah, and I am very fun and nice, so I’m sure we’ll make a great pair of co-hosts!

What will make our seder queer? Well, mostly the fact that two queer women are hosting it and almost all the attendees identify as queer. No, but seriously, as I think back to writing the Hanukkah edition of this Queering the Jewish Holidays series, I think about how many concrete tangible things I suggested to “queer” that holiday. When it comes to Passover and the seder, I don’t feel quite so certain. Many of my queer Jewish friends I spoke to while writing this felt equal amounts of uncertainty. “I’m not sure I queer it that much,” my friend Emma wrote me, when I asked her. I met Emma when we both served on the Hillel board in college and she invited me to my very first queer seder the year I came out, so it was both surprising and relieving to hear that she had similar feelings around the queerness of her Passover celebration. “Granted, I think everything I do is queer,” she followed up. I agree. (I agree that everything a queer person does is queer, if they want it to be, and also I agree that everything Emma does is queer, for the record.)

One more note before we begin! I’m writing this from the perspective of a Jewish lesbian who was raised in both conservative and reform synagogues, went to Jewish Day School but rarely goes to synagogue now, had a Bat Mitzvah and celebrates Shabbat sometimes but not always, and is working up the courage to drop in on the queer Yiddish group that meets in Portland, OR every weekend. All of which is to say: I am not an expert on anything except my own version of Judaism, and I am not trying to explain What It Means To Be Jewish And Celebrate Passover, I am simply sharing my own experience. I am also very nervous about all this, can you tell?! OKAY GREAT!

Passover 101

In very very short, the Passover story is an Exodus tale that takes place in ancient Egypt. The Jews are slaves, and God/Moses helps them get free via ten plagues. That is literally the shortest version of the Haggadah (the text used to tell the Passover story on the holiday) that I can come up with – forgive me if it seems overly simplistic. I trust that a lot of folks reading this post already know the story of Passover, and if you don’t I strongly encourage you to either Google it or get yourself invited to a fun queer seder this year! Moving right along! To commemorate the story of how we got free and express gratitude for our lives and religion, modern day Jews sit down to a seder every year and also give up chametz – literally “leaven, or food mixed with leaven,” aka bread, other yeast products, and a variety of things that always make me go “Really?! That too?!?!” – for eight days. The word seder is a Hebrew word that literally means “order,” and the meal we share together and rituals we partake in at a seder do have a very specific order. However, one of my favorite parts about being a queer Jew is that it is possible to follow Jewish tradition and infuse it with some queerness, thus keeping up with traditions and also feeling personally connected to what I’m partaking in.

What does a queer seder look like?

The more I delve into this personal reckoning, the more I’m realizing it felt easier to talk about tangible ways to queer Hanukkah because it is an eight night holiday that allows for celebration on every evening. You light the candles, you play dreidel, you share community, etc. Passover can feel a little bit overwhelming because aside from not eating bread for eight days, the main celebration of the holiday happens at seder, which is either on the first night or on the first and second night of the holiday, depending on your Jewish heritage. So to me, that feels a little bit like: if I don’t queer up my seder, am I even a Jewish dyke celebrating Passover in a queer way? To this I’d like to say, if you’re a queer Jew celebrating a Jewish holiday in the way you prefer, you’re doing a great job, and also, let’s talk about some ways to queer a seder!

1. Put an orange on your seder plate

The seder plate sits on the seder table and holds five or six important items that hold symbolic meaning and are referenced throughout the meal. Adding an orange to your traditional seder plate is badass, and explaining to your guests why it’s there is the best. When I asked Emma if she had the orange on her seder plate she said yes. “I explain the GAY reason for the orange,” she said, “since a lot of people just think it’s about feminism, not [lesbians].” This is very true – in fact, before I came out, I put an orange on my seder plate dutifully and totally thought it was just about feminism. Learning that it was gay (and that the gay roots of the story are often ignored) makes an orange on the seder plate feel like a super radical choice to me. I do this even if I’m celebrating at my family’s traditional seder, and it feels really special that my parents are supportive of it and always ask me to explain it to our guests. I love explaining gay shit to queers and straight people alike so this feels really good to me, but if you’re more shy you could print out little explainers about the significance of the orange and hand them out at your seder.

2. Edit your Haggadah

I mentioned that Risa made her own Haggadah, the book that guests of the seder read the story of Passover from throughout the long meal/celebration, for a progressive seder she hosted in the past. At the queer seder Emma organized through Keshet, co-hosted, and invited me to in college, she and her co-host created a Haggadah, too. “I took some of my dad’s stuff and various Progressive haggadot [and made it] my own,” Emma said. That seder was extremely well attended and as a participant, I felt I learned a lot about Judaism and a lot about queerness that I hadn’t thought about before. The Haggadah was especially meaningful to me, because it reminded me that as queer Jews we have the ability to rewrite certain narratives in our religion that hurt us, and also write new traditions and truths to follow for years to come.

This year for the seder Risa and I are hosting together, we’re going to use pieces of the Haggadah she created years ago, pieces of a traditional Haggadah that my family uses, and pieces of the queer Haggadah Emma handed out at the college seder I attended as a baby dyke. But if creating your own Haggadah from scratch seems overwhelming, there are other ways you can queer your text up at your seder. If you are the host of your seder, you can do some research beforehand about what you’d like to bring up that relates to the Passover story, and you can pepper the meal with questions and discussion. If you are attending a seder, you can ask the host if it would be okay to have a section of the meal reserved for attendees to bring up things the host may not have thought to include. And if you’d like to create some formal documents but don’t want to create an entire new Haggadah, you can turn to the internet. Keshet has some amazing resources per always, including an insert titled “Four Allies / Four Questions” that can be used as a stand alone or can be incorporated into a seder, and the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism has a variety of haggadot available for download that can be used “by families and congregations who wish to celebrate Passover with a unique perspective on social justice topics.”

3. Don’t let the traditional traditions trip you up

When I asked Emma about how she celebrates Passover now versus how she celebrated as a kid, she explained that she used to go to really large family seders as a child, with 20+ people, and obviously she was not the leader of those seders. As she’s grown older, she has become the person in her family to lead seders. “For me, it’s important, as the most Jewish member of my family, to continue traditions and try to make them fun,” Emma said. “Sometimes it’s hard for me to wrangle enough people, but I don’t let a minyan stop me.” That simple sentence really threw me, because I realized that I also like to continue traditions and I hadn’t even thought about a minyan! A minyan is a group of ten adults (in some sects of Judaism these adults have to be men, but I don’t think I have to tell you that’s not the kind of Judaism I practice) over the age of 13, and in Judaism that is technically the number of humans you need to do “public worship.”

Anyway, obviously you can tell from this post that I’m a little, uh, lax in the way I interact with my religion, so maybe I would never care about a minyan for any event, but I thought this was important enough to mention because it speaks to a larger fear I think a lot of us have when trying to recreate things we did as children with our biological families. It can feel scary to take on an event your parents or extended family used to organize, whether you have positive or negative or neutral memories about it, specifically because we’re often feeling like it’s important to continue a tradition. It can feel overwhelming to know that you don’t care about certain “traditional traditions,” or really scary to actively create new ones even when you would like to continue old ones.

But it’s so cool that we get to do this! As queers, and as queer Jews, we are literally recreating expectations and assumptions at all times. Give yourself permission to do this with your seder. Carry on the traditions that matter to you (even if that’s literally just having a seder) and let go of the stuff that doesn’t.

4. Invite folks who have never been to a seder

My friend Keely told me she tries to host a seder every year, and she specifically likes to invite at least a couple of non-Jewish folks who have never been to a seder before. “I call it my annual Seder for Vagrants, Goyim, and Delinquents,” she said. Emma also expressed a particular joy in introducing folks who have never experienced a seder before to the holiday. “I love Passover,” she said. “I love singing the songs. I love explaining the story. I love getting drunk. I love charoset. I love trying to make it relevant to people who know nothing about the situation.”

I personally think Judaism is a pretty cool religion, and being Jewish is special to me. Inviting folks who don’t know anything about Judaism, Passover, or seders to share the experience with me is a teaching tool that helps my friends understand me better, and helps us all talk about things we may not otherwise discuss.

5. Get really real

When I think about what I’d like to add to the seder I’m hosting with Risa that wasn’t necessarily present at the seders I attended as a kid, and when I asked Emma and Keely what they might like to add to their seders moving forward, we all landed on social justice and activism. “I’d love to bring more social justice-y stuff into my seders,” Emma said, though I have to give her credit that the queer Haggadah she helped put together in 2010 definitely did cover more social justice than I’d ever seen at a seder before. “To my mind, standing up to oppression is part of what it means to be queer,” Keely said. I agree, and I would add that standing up to oppression is part of what it means to be Jewish.

It is a privilege to gather 10+ queer adults to share a meal, and I think it would be a wasted opportunity to not address hard conversations, brainstorm ways to be better allies and activists in the upcoming year, and talk about the inherent resistance of the Passover story as a framework for how we can resist and help fellow oppressed humans resist in 2018.

I do truly think that by virtue of being a Jewish lesbian, when I celebrate Passover, it is a queer celebration. When we were texting, Keely said this thing that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about: “I think that the spirit of Judaism is pretty queer, intrinsically; it’s all about resistance and resilience and community.” I wrote that in my journal and underlined it twice. Yes, exactly.

To my fellow Jewish queers out there: How do you celebrate Passover? Does it feel queer to you? Tell me all about it. Chag sameach!

This year, Passover starts at sundown on Friday, March 30 and ends at sundown on Saturday, April 7.

Top 8 Weirdo Things I Ate During Passover

My Grandma Betty made up all her own rules of kosher eating. Bacon: kosher. Ham: not kosher. Lobster: kosher. Crab: definitely not kosher. Passover was quite an event in my mom’s entirely untraditional, 50s Jewish household. My mom told me horror stories of her mom keeping live gefilte fish in the bathtub, and nostalgically remembers eating roast every Friday night for shabbat, even though no prayers were ever said.

I never met my Grandma Betty, but she was a notably eccentric woman, and I consider myself lucky that her name lives on as part of mine. Betty came through Ellis Island when she was 6 years old, leaving eastern Europe less than a decade before the start of World War II. The spirit of Passover is acknowledging our ancestors, but even more so in acknowledging the value in tradition. 357 days a year I pay little tribute to my Jewish heritage; I don’t go to temple or cook Shabbat dinner or know how to read Hebrew, but for 8 days I do my very best to follow my own mostly arbitrary and ever-changing rules of pesach. For a person whose diet is at least 78% pasta, even cutting out this one food presents a test of personal will, so I allow myself some leniency. But I think Betty would approve.

This year Passover presented an even greater challenge, since I recently moved to Switzerland, can’t read any ingredients on any food item, and generally can’t buy half of what I’d like to eat in the grocery store. I spent the first half of this Passover week traveling in the Netherlands, and so between the two countries I now present the official list of Weird Shit I Ate in Europe While Attempting to Keep Kosher for Passover.

1. Tomato soup

Four times in two days. One time I ordered it and it came with croutons so I just ate around them.

2. Coconut bread

3. A spinach salad that cost 15 euros

I had spent the morning exploring a new city, and twice tried to stop for lunch. The first time the only non-bread item turned out to be soup with bacon, which is out even by my rules, and I struck out a second time attempting to order something that roughly translated to “bowl of vegetables”. By the time I found this spinach salad, it was 3 pm and all I had consumed that day was two shots of espresso (coffee is always kosher, I mean let’s be reasonable). It was hands down the best spinach salad I’ve ever had.

4. Hard boiled eggs and roasted red pepper sauce on matzah

Eaten for breakfast three days in a row. The Swiss notion of breakfast is weird enough to begin with, and a lot of people just eat normal sandwiches for breakfast (which in my opinion is an abomination to breakfast), but my normal options of Muesli, toast, or oatmeal were all out so the unusual eggs/pepper combo seemed like a reasonable option. There’s nothing like being the weirdo in the cafeteria carrying around a ziplock bag of matzah.

5. Matzah Pizza

The best Passover dish is obviously matzah pizza, which is like normal pizza except what it would taste like if you tried to bake it on top of a crumbling pile of crackers instead of dough. I usually love matzah pizza, but the first time I made it this year I somehow managed to use way too much sauce and so the matzah got all soggy, and soggy matzah might just be the worst way to eat matzah.

6. Something called Chocoladepasta

I only bought it because it combined “chocolate” and “pasta” into a single word so I had to. I couldn’t read the ingredient list but I’m pretty sure it was kosher. I ate it on matzah, duh.

7. A single egg, made in a miniature pancake pan

This was probably the saddest meal of Passover, because who wants to eat just a plain fried egg? I love fried eggs, but they just need toast so badly. This was a tough breakfast.

8. Super nachos

This was my biggest slip up, and it happened about three hours after Passover started. I generally eat according to Ashkenazi tradition, which is supposed to mean no grains or seeds but I take to mean grains, except soy, and other things when I’m really desperate. What happened was that I landed in Amsterdam, and the first food offered to me was nachos, one of the greatest dishes ever to be served ever and which I have not eaten in 4 months since I was last in the US because nachos and components of nachos just do not exist in Switzerland. So my friend asked me if I wanted to order nachos and I said NO THANK YOU because I am strong, and I can last three whole hours without grains. Then I tried to order wings instead, and they were out of wings. There was only one logical choice, which was to eat the nachos: corn chips, beans and all. I decided to keep kosher for an extra three hours after sunset on the last night, because this is what my grandma would do.

Pretty Much Every Manischewitz Product, Ranked

Guys, Passover starts tonight — have you binge-eaten enough bread this week? Passover is a holiday based around tradition; there are things we do each year because our religion specifically instructs us to (like drinking the wine in a reclining position), and there are things we do because it’s just the way our family has always done it (like watching “Rugrats Passover”). No matter how you choose to commemorate the Israelites’ exodus from Egypt, it’s awfully likely that you will be consuming a Manischewitz product of some kind in the coming week or so. In the interest of science, I have taken it upon myself to review all of the products listed on Manischewitz’s website, and rank them in order of importance, deliciousness, and general necessity. L’chaim!

* I couldn’t find all of the products listed on Manischewitz’s website at my local Hasidic grocery store, so I opted to cast judgement on them anyway. My judgey Jewish ancestors would be proud of this decision.

** Also I skipped a couple of things, like canned corn and tahini, which are probably fine. Sorry.

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1. Macaroons

Passover is one of the most important holidays on the Jewish calendar — a time we celebrate by eating absolutely disgusting dessert foods. The only Passover-appropriate food that is so delicious I’d actually eat it any other time of the year is macaroons, those gorgeous coconutty cake bites full of magic and rainbows. I haven’t eaten anything with eggs in over a decade, but I admit to still drooling a little when I think about these macaroons. Manischewitz boast fifteen different kinds of macaroons (all gluten-free), including pistachio orange, red velvet, rocky road and cappuccino chip, but the obvious winner is the classic chocolate.

2. Mandlen

Obviously we are going to be talking a lot about matzo ball soup and the elements within here, but let’s take a minute to talk about mandlen, Passover’s version of soup nuts. They’re basically the best. Obviously you’re eating matzo ball soup for the matzo balls, but the mandlen absorb the broth perfectly while still maintaining their chewy integrity. During the festive meal, I admit to keeping a small amount of these on hand to eat dry, because they don’t even need soup. The soup needs them.

3. Matzo Meal / Matzo ball Soup Mixes / Chicken Broth

As a young vegetarian, I would break once a year for my grandma’s matzoball soup, and to this day I regret nothing. Matzo ball soup is a perfect food, easily veganized, and apparently now available gluten-free. I don’t know what a gluten-free matzo ball is (maybe just a sphere of air?) but I’m glad Passover is making an effort to be more inclusive, I guess.

4. Falafel

Falafel is delicious, in case you were unaware. If I’m being honest, I prefer to keep the Trader Joe’s pre-made ones in the freezer and heat them up at will, but hey — if you’re willing to make your own from scratch or a mix, I respect you for your obvious commitment. Somehow, despite being made of chickpeas and matzo meal, these dudes still aren’t kosher for Passover, which makes no sense. LET ME LIVE.

5. Dried Fruit

There is really nothing bad I can say about dried apricots, and your grandparents are probably pretty stoked about dried prunes.

6. Matzo

Did anybody else go to a Hebrew school that made them sing a song that went, “I like matzo, matzo, munchy crunchy matzo, I like lotsa lotsa lotsa… matzo” or was that just me? Matzo is a really fun novelty the first or second night of Passover, and then by the end of the holiday your insides have dried up and stopped working and you feel like you’ve been living on wallpaper paste. Passover hasn’t started yet, so I have only rosy, positive feelings about this particular product. Manischewitz offers several varieties, including gluten-free, spelt and organic matzo. Despite all of these innovations, all of your sandwiches will break in the wrong places and your PBJ will probably spill jelly down the front of your shirt.

7. Chocolate Seder Plate

I was actually super pissed when I couldn’t find this at my local Hasidic grocery store, because it’s a fucking seder plate made out of chocolate. Every year I try to convince my friends or family to do something really weird for this year’s seder, like making everybody dress up as different items off the seder plate (I want to be the bitter herb), but this is even better. I don’t even care that it’s weird Manischewitz chocolate — this rules.

8. Gelt

Coins made out of chocolate. No complaints. A little worried about this Star of David-headed pirate(?!?!) grinning at me from the box though.

9. Apple Sauce

There’s not a damn thing wrong with apple sauce, but I’m not sure I trust Manischewitz to even get this one right. Has anybody had it? Is it full of secret matzo crumbles or what?

10. Potato Starch

I’m not saying I’d eat a heaping spoonful of it by myself, but potato starch is a solid substitute for cornstarch or even egg. Good for you, potato starch.

11. Candles

I mean, there’s nothing bad you can really say about candles? Burn responsibly. This is probably the closest I’ll get to neutral about anything on this list; it’s all downhill from here.

12. Soup Mixes

To be honest, if you’re going to make soup from a mix like this, you might as well just make soup from scratch, you know? This is halfway between prepping your own ingredients and opening a can. All of these flavors sound like things your grandparents would be enthusiastic about, like “lima bean and barley.”

13. Egg Noodles

They’re noodles. They go in soup. Why do they have to have egg in them? Nobody knows. They made them without gluten, why can’t they make them without egg? They do come in alphabet shapes, though, if you’d like to make your soup slightly more educational.

14. Biscotti

If you’re trying to eat kosher-for-Passover biscotti, you’re doing it all wrong.

15. Frolic Bears

They’re just creepy-shaped lollipop bears made out of chocolate, but something seems a little off about these dudes.  The name is the most unsettling part. I wouldn’t want to run into any of these guys in a dark alley, but they’re not as gross as say, honeycake.

16. Chocolate Matzo

You can’t fool me, chocolate matzo. I know there’s matzo under there. Would you dip a slice of bread in chocolate and call it dessert? What makes you think you can get away with such nonsense?! You should be ashamed of yourself.

17. Marshmallows

I don’t want to rain on your parade, but I may as well tell you that these marshmallows are made with kosher gelatin, which comes from fish. You’re eating fish marshmallows. Have a nice day.

18. Farfel

The only farfel I really have experience with is the matzo kind, which seems to just be matzo crumbs thrown haphazardly into soup. I’m not sure this counts as a separate food, and I’m not about it.

19. Borscht

Borscht: It’s Not For Everyone.

20. Couscous

I didn’t know Manischewitz even made this, but it turns out they even make sauces for it! You can’t eat this for Passover, but you could probably buy a box and wait for a night when you feel the need to eat your feelings, and inhale a whole box of couscous while crying alone in the dark. I mean, this looks tasty. What?

21. Potato Pancake Mix

Latkes are delicious, but this is the wrong holiday. Strangely, they are listed as Kosher for passover anyway, and come in bougie flavors like garlic and rosemary. I dunno, serve these at your seder I guess? Go nuts.

22. Stuffing

I don’t like stuffing. Maybe you do. This kind is matzo farfel-based, so you know it’s extra flavorless. You could stuff your matzo with this stuffing and make an incredibly bland turducken.

23. Mandel Cuts

My sweet great aunt Gert used to periodically make mandel bread or mandelbrodt, basically an almond biscotti for Eastern European Jews. They were incredible, and although she was happy to share her recipe, nobody in my family has ever been able to replicate them perfectly. Manischewitz tried to make them, and theirs are made with matzo meal and cashews instead of almonds. Fail.

24. Potato Kugel Mix

As if you weren’t already eating enough super-dense, impossible-to-digest food at the seder, here’s a solid block of matzo meal and potato. You’re welcome.

25. Cake Mixes

At last we’ve arrived at honeycake. Passover desserts are an especially foul novelty. You know how gravity is really different on other planets, like how your weight is 2.54 times your normal weight on Jupiter? That’s what eating honeycake feels like.

26. Horseradish

They made it in a wasabi flavor and I still won’t eat it.

27. Chanukah House

You guys know that Chanukah isn’t even a gift-giving holiday, right? Like it’s incredibly not a big deal on the Jewish calendar, and we’ve been dressing it up as an alternative to Christmas for far too long. This is just one step closer — gingerbread houses, but made out of vanilla cookies. Have some self respect.

28. Potato Chips

Were you worried about having BBQ kettle chips that were certified kosher for Passover? Manischewitz’s got you, boo. At press time, there appeared to be no matzo involved in the creation of these chips.

29. Tam Tams

Yeah, I read Tim Tams at first too, and got really excited. Australia has these delicious textured chocolate biscuit things, and finally the Jews have them too — oh wait, no, they’re just little crackers. They’re not kosher for Passover though, so Manischewitz also came up with “Passover crackers,” which — let’s be serious — are just tiny matzos.

30. Cotton Candy

You and I both know that pre-packaged cotton candy is always weird and kind of flat. You may as well just buy yourself a cotton candy maker and have at it. You’ll be a hit at parties.

31. Pancake Mix

Who are you people trying to make kosher for Passover pancakes? Get the hell out of here.

32. Rice Cakes

I didn’t know Manischewitz even made rice cakes, but here we are. They’re made out of kosher for Passover rice, which seems sort of impossible — there are only five grains technically allowed on Passover, because they can be made into matzo (wheat, spelt, oats, rye and barley). There’s plenty of debate about whether or not rice is OK to eat during Pesach, but face it — you’re already eating a whole lot of tasteless, crunchy carbs this week. I can’t say I’d be terribly excited to see a rice cake by day 4 or 5.

33. Peanut Butter

The ingredients on this peanut butter are just peanuts and sugar. Isn’t there supposed to be an oil? Is this real?

34. Cereal

This cereal is straight-up terrifying:

First of all, our Star of David-headed friend is back, but now he’s a magician? And this is clearly some sort of Kosher ripoff of Cookie Crunch or something like that, but these just look like tiny discs of flavorless garbage, covered in ants. A quick glance at the ingredients confirms that the flakes are mostly tapioca starch and potato starch, with a little sugar and cocoa powder thrown in — a tiny bit of fiber, but barely any vitamins to speak of. Also available in Froot Loops ripoff, or chocolate Froot Loops ripoff.

35. Jell Bars, Truffles, Lollycones, Caramel Cashew Patties, Peppermint Patties, etc.

I’m looping all the chocolate confections in here: truffles, lollycones, caramel cashew patties, peppermint patties, but most of all those absolutely fucking inedible raspberry jell bars. First of all, the name drives me nuts — is it a play on The Bell Jar? In theory, they should be delicious, a splash of chewy raspberry-flavored goo inside a crisp chocolate exterior, but once you bite into it, everything goes wrong. It’s like biting into a decorative soap. Whoever decided this was an acceptable form of dessert was a sadist of the highest order. If anyone ever offers you one of these items, escape immediately; this person is trying to kill you.

36. Fruit Slices

Nobody likes these. Whoever came up with these sugary globs of pure misery went to a whole lot of trouble to get out of just eating a slice of a real fucking orange.

37. Gefilte Fish

When I was a kid, I read a book in my Hebrew School library called “The Carp in the Bathtub.” It’s about a bunch of kids in a Brooklyn tenament whose mom buys a carp with the intent of turning it into gefilte fish; since the markets are almost always out of carp by the time Passover rolls around, she buys this one early and keeps him in the bathtub. The kids end up growing really attached to the fish, and beg their parents to let them keep it. I don’t actually remember how the book ends, but I would way rather have a carp in my bathtub than a slimy ball of gelatinous goo. I recognize this is an unpopular opinion; my brother seriously eats gefilte fish all year long, but clearly my brother is gross.

38. Wine

Manischewitz boast six different flavors of traditional kosher wine (elderberry, cherry, blackberry, extra heavy malaga, concord grape and medium dry concord), all listed on their website with boastful descriptions filled with phrases like “bursting with flavor” and “generous mouthfeel.” I was probably about 15 or so when my parents decided it was OK for me to sample the wine at our family’s seder, and I barely made it through one sip before spitting it all out and reverting back to sweet, sweet Kedem grape juice for the rest of the foreseeable future. Don’t ever do this to yourself if you don’t have to.

Matzo Brei: Nothing to Pass-over Here

How do you make omelets and French toast even better than they already are? Matzo, that’s how.

I know that “matzo” isn’t typically the answer to that kind of question because that shit is dry and flavorless, but just go with me on this. Much like the fried tortillas in chilaquiles, matzo has this way of turning regular old breakfast into something special, textured, and absolutely delicious.

And good news! It’s Passover, so matzo is plentiful and on sale! What? You are gluten-free? Yup, I got you covered. Now all you need is to decide if you are in a sweet or a savory mood, because matzo brei comes both ways. How switchy.

I grew up eating both versions, savory immediately followed by sweet, because dessert following breakfast is TOTALLY a thing and obvi the only civilized way to eat. The classic savory version of matzo brei has fried onions in it, but I also like to add a little garlic, some fresh herbs, and even a little cheese. What can I say? Gilding the lily is sort of my calling card. The classic sweet version is a lot like French toast, served with butter and syrup and powdered sugar on top. Though I wouldn’t say no to a tumble of fresh berries, some whipped cream, a drizzle of chocolate, OMG somebody stop me! No, don’t.

Below are recipes for both sweet and savory matzo brei. But by all means, do NOT limit yourself to my ingredient list. This can really be a “clean-out-the-fridge” meal where you toss in leftover grilled veggies or pesto from last night’s dinner, or scrape out the last spoonfuls of your peanut butter jar (though if you are anything like me, peanut butter doesn’t really exist in spoonfuls because you have to eat an entire jar in one sitting if it is anywhere near your home).

As long as you follow these five basic steps as a starting point, you can add pretty much anything to the mix and be happy about it. Chag Pesach Sameach!

The basic matzo brei technique in five steps:

1) Take out however many sheets of matzo you might need. I typically use 2 sheets per person, but I like to over-feed people.

2) Crumble up the matzo indiscriminately. You want some pretty large shards and some smaller pieces as well. Try to avoid making matzo dust though. That shit isn’t useful to anyone.

3) Run some extremely hot water in your faucet. Once it’s hot, drown the matzo for about 45 to 60 seconds, or until you feel it start to break down a bit. You don’t want it totally water-logged, but it should def be pretty soft.

4) Drain the matzo of all the liquid. Completely. Literally press down on the matzo to squeeze out any remaining water.

5) Mix in one egg per sheet of matzo, along with a few pinches of salt.

Now your paths diverge, and it’s time to get creative.

Sweet Matzo Brei

Ingredients:

Butter (or dairy-free alternative)
Matzo and egg mixture (see above)
Cinnamon
Honey
Toppings: maple syrup, powdered sugar, fresh fruit, chocolate chips, whipped cream, etc…

Heat up a few tablespoons of butter in a large skillet. Pour in the matzo and egg mixture over medium-high heat with a few dashes of cinnamon and a few squirts of honey. You can either scramble it up like you would scrambled eggs, or you can flatten the mixture out in the pan and cook it up in one big frittata-like disc (as shown below). Once everything is nice and browned, plate it up and pour on your toppings of choice!

Savory Matzo Brei

Ingredients:

Butter/oil
Matzo and egg mixture (see above)
Salt and pepper
Optional add-ins: green onions, cheese, spices, fresh herbs, etc…

Thinly slice a medium-sized onion. Heat up a few tablespoons of butter in a large skillet with a little oil as well. (Pro tip: mixing butter with oil prevents the butter from burning at a high heat. The more you know.) Add the onions to the skillet and cook them for about 10 minutes, or until the onions get super caramelized and brown and nom. Feel free to add in some fresh garlic or any other veggies you are into as well. You can also add some spices like garlic powder, dried herbs, chili powder, really anything your little heart desires. (The version shown above has onions, scallions, and chipotle cheddar cheese.) Just make sure you add a few big pinches of salt and black pepper.

Pour in the matzo and egg mixture over medium-high heat, and scramble it up just like you are making eggs. I know it is counter-intuitive to making scrambled eggs, but you really do want some brown and crispy bits here. Once everything is nice and browned, you can add some cheese to melt in, if you are into that (I definitely am). Enjoy!

Get Baked for Passover: Homemade Chocolate Covered Matzo

Homemade Chocolate Covered Matzo

by: Intern Daniela

Greetings from home, a tiny town in the sunny and very Catholic land of Venezuela! Given my town’s strong religious leanings, there was no chance I’d find any matzo, so when Passover rolled around we decided to make some of our own. Luckily, matzo is the most straightforward thing ever, with only four ingredients and like 5 minutes of cooking time.

Ingredients – serves 6 regular matzo squares:

2 1/2 cups of flour
1/2 tsp of salt
1/3 cup of olive oil
1/2 cup of water
+ A little extra flour for rolling.

For the chocolate coating:

12 oz of your favorite chocolate – I like bittersweet, but milk chocolate works too
1/2 cup of heavy cream, milk, or milk substitute

A note on following your gut: because the recipe is so simple, the exact amounts to make the dough feel right will vary depending on location, weather, the song playing on the radio, etc.

The little matzo process:

1. Preheat your oven to 500•F, or whatever highest setting your toaster oven has (mine is 450•F).

2. Put the flour in a bowl and mix in the salt. Add the oil and mix with your hands to break up clumps. Add enough water to form a sticky mass that’s completely combined.

3. Move the sticky mass onto a floured work surface. Top the dough with flour until it’s completely covered and press it into a circular shape. This is not traditional bread, so don’t knead it, just flatten it out. Roll out the dough, you want it to be as thin as possible -it should be almost see through when you are done. Also, feel free to work the dough in portions if your rolling space is not big enough.

4. After everything is rolled out it’s a good time to put a cookie sheet in the (toaster) oven to preheat it.

5. Cut the dough into sections around 8″ x 8″. Poke rows across each section with a fork -this will keep the matzo from bubbling, so go all out.

Finally, place each section on the cookie sheet in the oven and bake them for approximately 5 min. Make sure to keep and eye on it because they go from perfect to burnt in a blink. If you have a panini press though, COOK IT THERE -it is my most favorite thing, as it gives it extra awesomeness and texture.

For the chocolate coating:

1. Add the milk to the chocolate pieces and melt it. I melt it all together en un baño de María, aka a double boiler, because it makes it almost impossible to burn the chocolate.

2. Scoop the melted chocolate onto each piece of matzo. I just hold a piece over the chocolate bowl, pour some on it with a spoon, turn it, pour some more and set it to harden on a piece of parchment paper. That process has the added bonus that it leaves me with a little matzo handle, so I can eat the whole thing later without getting sticky fingers or melted chocolate up to my wrist -a good to know if you are eating it in front of your partner’s family and other loved ones.

Get Baked for Passover: Matzo Caramel Crunch

It’s Passover time! Every year around Passover my mother sends my brother and I a series of emails asking about our plans for seder, phrased in the style of somebody who assumes we have plans for seder. It’s sort of cute because for the last ten years I’ve not once had plans for seder, yet every year she begins the conversation anew, awash with optimism about the quality of my personal Judaism. This year was no exception, which is just to say that I have absolutely no recipes of my own to offer you, but guess who does? My Jewish Lesbian Mother! Aren’t we lucky ducks?

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Matzo Caramel Crunch (Dairy, Passover)

This has become my new ‘must bring to Seder’ dessert, usurping Riese’s childhood favorite, Banana Sponge Cake. Keeping Kosher (observance of the Jewish Dietary Laws) on a daily basis can be challenging, and during Passover there are additional laws and restrictions.

This recipe is considered a “Dairy” recipe because I use butter rather than a margarine sans any dairy ingredients. I use “Kosher for Passover” chocolate chips, but any semi-sweet chips can be used. The basic ingredients can be altered here and there, but the prep work and the timing is really important. For example, I’ve tried to cut corners with prepping the cookie sheet and I now have one less cookie sheet

Prep Time: 10 min. Cook Time: 15 min. Total Time: 25 min.

Enough matzos to cover the bottom of a jelly pan, (1/2 a box)
1/2 pound butter (much preferred over pareve margarine)
1 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup chopped nuts (walnuts, pecans, or almonds)
2 cups (or enough to cover the matzos) chocolate chips

Preparation:

1. Cover a large jellyroll pan with aluminum foil. Spray well and line with parchment paper.

2. Lay matzos flat in the prepared pan. Be sure the entire pan bottom is covered with matzo, trimming matzo if necessary. (this is the trickiest part for the spatial-relationship-challenged)

3. Combine butter and sugar in a pot on the stovetop. Bring to a boil for 5 minutes, stirring constantly. (This gets really really hot, not a good time to have a small child helping you stir the pot)

4. Pour butter-sugar mixture over matzos. (quickly! It hardens as it cools) (licking the spoon can cause loss of tastebuds on the tongue. Just saying …)

Bake at 350 for 10 to 15 minutes, watching carefully to prevent burning.

5. Sprinkle chocolate chips over hot brittle.

Let the chocolate melt, and then spread with a knife.

6. Top with chopped nuts. (I leave some of it nut-less for those with nut allergies)

7. Refrigerate.

8. Break into pieces and serve.

Get Baked: Matzo Pizza

At this point in Passover, I would basically rather eat cardboard than another piece of plain matzo. Enter the matzo pizza. Some people will tell you to just slap some sauce on a whole piece of matzo and stick it in the microwave. Some people would be wrong. Doing this results in a huge soggy, floppy, unfulfilling mess you can’t properly cut or eat. My way results in delicious, crisp pizza that is conveniently bite sized and manageable.

MATZO PIZZA

Ingredients

Matzo
olive oil
Tomato sauce (jarred or otherwise)
mozzarella cheese
parmesan cheese
Mushrooms (optional)
Onion (optional)
Feta cheese (optional)
Greek olives (optional)

Instructions

1. Assemble your ingredients and preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

2. Grate your parmesan cheese. Grate or thinly slice your mozzarella. Chop any toppings up in to penny-sized pieces.

3. Break a piece of matzo into four pieces. If any of the pieces break larger than the palm of your hand break them in half. Brush one side of each piece of matzo with a dab of olive oil and place oil side down on a tin foil covered pan. Repeat until pan is covered.

4. Using a dessert spoon, put a dollop of sauce in the center of each small piece of matzo. Ensure that the sauce is not over flowing or too sparse.

5. Sprinkle mozzarella cheese out on each small piece. If you have cut the mozzarella, lay pieces end to end so as not to overlap too thick. Sprinkle the parmesan on top of this.

6. Delicately array out your toppings in the center of the matzo as you might for a bruschetta. spring with additional parmesan if desired.

7. Alternatively, arrange feta cheese, olives and onion in the center of the sauced matzo for a greek pizza.

8. Bake in the oven for 7-10 minutes or until the cheese browns.

9. Remove the pizza pan from the oven and allow to sit for 5 minutes. This is crucial for the pizza to set.

Serves five pieces per person for a delicious Passover dinner or two slices per person for a snack.