Jews & Catholics Agree On: Chocolate Babka
The two striking Catholic brothers and I have continued our culinary love affair. Last week, they invited me to --get this-- a sephardic wedding, near Brighton Beach. Neil Simon, eat your heart out.
The wedding was on a Thursday night, at a Jewish center. We arrived fashionably late (9:30 for a 7PM wedding), since the groom recommended we forego the ceremony. When we entered, the brothers looked to me, the sole Jew in our trio, for social guidance. They asked if they should wear those "little hats". Pshaw, I thought -- the service was finished long ago. Let's get to the whiskey, boys!
This Ashkenazi knows so little about Sephardim. We were ushered straight to the sanctuary (women on one side, men on the other). Apparently the ceremony starts after an hour or two of cocktails, so that everyone can yenta through the ceremony.
And when I say yenta -- even the cantor had to raise his voice to overcome the near-deafening yap. I've never seen people actively talk through a religious ceremony like this. Since my boys were on the other side, blackberrying with the men, I had no one to yammer with. Instead, I did what every other person does when they're bored in temple: count plastic surgeries.
After the ceremony, I found the Twin Towers of Consumption at the bar, plotting. The notion of a wedding buffet makes them excited and focused: they were scribbling down a map of the place to strategize their attack. Because I was merely a trainee, and could not depended upon to satisfy the appetites of these men, I was not allowed to forage. I supervised base camp, and was responsible for the occasional cocktail, which wasn't nearly as important as one would think it would be for two Catholic brothers at a wedding.
Truth be told, the Delicious Duo aren't entirely Catholic, technically. They were raised Catholic, and certainly consider themselves Catholic, but I found a little glitch, and their Jewish last name was a tip off. Turns out that 50% of their DNA carries have little chai's on their helixes. So even though they don't consider themselves Jewish, and no rabbi would consider them tribal, it wouldn't be enough to dissuade the Fuhrer.
We started with (several heaping plates of) sushi, moved on to middle eastern spreads (the hummous, the babaghanoush, a taramasalata, olives, pickles, pita, israeli salad, etc). For the mains, there was something wrapped in puff, the ceremonial dry chicken, and a fantastic corned beef, which I was proud to inform the boys was originally a Jewish dish. They didn't care; they just inhaled.
Weddings aren't typically where I satisfy my food cravings. Instead, I prefer the company of that dependable duo, Jack and Ginger. And since women's dresses aren't as forgiving as men's outfits, I didn't even attempt to keep up these two so intent on ingestion. Even going bite-for-every-fourth-bite was too much.
So by the time the (3 mile-high) dessert plates came, I threw up the white yarmulke. There was a chocolate molded piano filled with mousse, petitfores, cannolis, eclairs, tartlets, 7-layer cakes, halavah, and, and...through some grace of god, they were all dairy-free. I didn't have to go to the trouble of explaining why I simply couldn't eat these; I could honestly claim "margarine" and it was a satisfactory explanation to the food lovers. They love food, but most importantly, they love it done right.
I had to stop and wonder, perhaps there was a eency-weency purpose to the kashrut that put the diet in dietary guidelines? Maybe the rabbis had a second agenda when they had the prescience to proclaim, "You may not a top a steak with a nob of compound butter, or follow it with a 7-layer yellow cake with buttercream frosting." Keep those Jewish tucchuses firm. Amen!
But I digress. Between bites, they were complaining about how fast they had to get to the buffet for their seconds, and thirds -- the food was going fast. While their mouths were full of chocolate, I took the told them the old catering joke that at a Jewish wedding, you might run out of food but you'll never run out of booze.
They nodded, half listening, intent on their dairy-free desserts. You can take the boy out of the synagogue, but you can't take the babka away from the boy.
BABKA FOR THE BOYS
As I've come to learn more about the Digesting Duo, the elder of the two has admitted a deep passion for babka. So today's recipe is dedicated to him. Of course he won't make it, he'll buy it (until the right sephardic woman comes along, who will also buy it -- what, you think she cooks?).
I've made babka, and it's fine, but as I firmly believe, if you can buy it better (and cheaper), then why bother with the fuss of making it. Support your local artisan. Luckily for you, the two best babkas in New York can be ordered over the Internet:
Zabar's Babka
Broadway and 80th Street
Upper West Side
Manhattan
Russ and Daughter's Babka (scroll down)
Houston Street
Between Allan and Orchard
Lower East Side
Manhattan
The wedding was on a Thursday night, at a Jewish center. We arrived fashionably late (9:30 for a 7PM wedding), since the groom recommended we forego the ceremony. When we entered, the brothers looked to me, the sole Jew in our trio, for social guidance. They asked if they should wear those "little hats". Pshaw, I thought -- the service was finished long ago. Let's get to the whiskey, boys!
This Ashkenazi knows so little about Sephardim. We were ushered straight to the sanctuary (women on one side, men on the other). Apparently the ceremony starts after an hour or two of cocktails, so that everyone can yenta through the ceremony.
And when I say yenta -- even the cantor had to raise his voice to overcome the near-deafening yap. I've never seen people actively talk through a religious ceremony like this. Since my boys were on the other side, blackberrying with the men, I had no one to yammer with. Instead, I did what every other person does when they're bored in temple: count plastic surgeries.
After the ceremony, I found the Twin Towers of Consumption at the bar, plotting. The notion of a wedding buffet makes them excited and focused: they were scribbling down a map of the place to strategize their attack. Because I was merely a trainee, and could not depended upon to satisfy the appetites of these men, I was not allowed to forage. I supervised base camp, and was responsible for the occasional cocktail, which wasn't nearly as important as one would think it would be for two Catholic brothers at a wedding.
Truth be told, the Delicious Duo aren't entirely Catholic, technically. They were raised Catholic, and certainly consider themselves Catholic, but I found a little glitch, and their Jewish last name was a tip off. Turns out that 50% of their DNA carries have little chai's on their helixes. So even though they don't consider themselves Jewish, and no rabbi would consider them tribal, it wouldn't be enough to dissuade the Fuhrer.
We started with (several heaping plates of) sushi, moved on to middle eastern spreads (the hummous, the babaghanoush, a taramasalata, olives, pickles, pita, israeli salad, etc). For the mains, there was something wrapped in puff, the ceremonial dry chicken, and a fantastic corned beef, which I was proud to inform the boys was originally a Jewish dish. They didn't care; they just inhaled.
Weddings aren't typically where I satisfy my food cravings. Instead, I prefer the company of that dependable duo, Jack and Ginger. And since women's dresses aren't as forgiving as men's outfits, I didn't even attempt to keep up these two so intent on ingestion. Even going bite-for-every-fourth-bite was too much.
So by the time the (3 mile-high) dessert plates came, I threw up the white yarmulke. There was a chocolate molded piano filled with mousse, petitfores, cannolis, eclairs, tartlets, 7-layer cakes, halavah, and, and...through some grace of god, they were all dairy-free. I didn't have to go to the trouble of explaining why I simply couldn't eat these; I could honestly claim "margarine" and it was a satisfactory explanation to the food lovers. They love food, but most importantly, they love it done right.
I had to stop and wonder, perhaps there was a eency-weency purpose to the kashrut that put the diet in dietary guidelines? Maybe the rabbis had a second agenda when they had the prescience to proclaim, "You may not a top a steak with a nob of compound butter, or follow it with a 7-layer yellow cake with buttercream frosting." Keep those Jewish tucchuses firm. Amen!
But I digress. Between bites, they were complaining about how fast they had to get to the buffet for their seconds, and thirds -- the food was going fast. While their mouths were full of chocolate, I took the told them the old catering joke that at a Jewish wedding, you might run out of food but you'll never run out of booze.
They nodded, half listening, intent on their dairy-free desserts. You can take the boy out of the synagogue, but you can't take the babka away from the boy.
BABKA FOR THE BOYS
As I've come to learn more about the Digesting Duo, the elder of the two has admitted a deep passion for babka. So today's recipe is dedicated to him. Of course he won't make it, he'll buy it (until the right sephardic woman comes along, who will also buy it -- what, you think she cooks?).
I've made babka, and it's fine, but as I firmly believe, if you can buy it better (and cheaper), then why bother with the fuss of making it. Support your local artisan. Luckily for you, the two best babkas in New York can be ordered over the Internet:
Zabar's Babka
Broadway and 80th Street
Upper West Side
Manhattan
Russ and Daughter's Babka (scroll down)
Houston Street
Between Allan and Orchard
Lower East Side
Manhattan
posted by Allison Fishman Task at 2:36 PM
1 Comments:
THE BAST BABKA IS GREENS CHOCOLATE BABKA
http://www.greenscakes.com
AFTER ALL IT IS STILL THE MOST LIKE MY HUNGARIAN GRANDMOTHERS RECEIPE
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