passover 2015 ala slow cooker

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This year's menu....made in the slow cooker and much better than Passovers of years past.

Mile End Deli’s Matzoh Ball Soup
(adapted from recipe by Noah Bermanoff)

6 cup chicken stock (stock made in slow cooker from Smitten Kitchen's recipe)
2 cup matzoh meal
1 1/2 Tbsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt, plus more for seasoning
1/2 tsp. black pepper
7 large eggs, lightly beaten
1/2 cup schmaltz

Bring stock to a simmer in a 3 quart pot. Meanwhile,in a large bowl combine matzoh meal, baking powder, and 1/2 teaspoon salt and pepper. Stir in eggs and schmaltz. Using a 1/4 cup measure,scoop out matzoh mixture and roll between palms into balls. Drop matzoh balls into simmering stock. Cover pot and reduce heat slightly to maintain a medium simmer. Cook 15- 20 minutes until balls are puffy and uniform in texture.

Brisket from Cooks County
(better than last year's brisket recipe from Smitten Kitchen)

  • 1 tbsp vegetable oil
  • 3 large onions, halved and sliced 1/2-inch thick (about 2 pounds)
  • tablespoon light brown sugar
  • salt
  • 1 tablespoon tomato paste
  •  2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  •  3 garlic cloves minced
  • 1 3⁄4 cups low sodium chicken broth
  • 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
  • 1 tablespoon paprika
  • 2 teaspoons onion powder
  • 1 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1⁄8 teaspoon cayenne pepper
  •  1 (5 lb) flat-cut beef brisket trimmed of exc ess fat
  •  3 sprigs fresh thyme
  •  3 bay leaves
  • 1 teaspoon red wine vinegar

    DIRECTIONS

    1. In a large skillet over medium-high heat, heat oil until shimmering. Saute onions, brown sugar, and 1-4 teaspoon salt (to taste) until onions are golden, 10 to 12 minutes. Clear a space in the middle of the pan. Add tomato paste and flour to open space and cook, stirring constantly, until darkened, about 2 minutes. Add garlic and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Stir in broth and cook until sauce thickens, about 4 minutes. Off heat, stir in 2 tablespoons vinegar and transfer mixture to bowl. When cool, cover tightly with plastic and refrigerate.

    2. Whisk together 1 teaspoon salt, paprika, onion powder, garlic powder, and cayenne in a small bowl. Prick brisket with fork, evenly all over both faces. Rub spice mixture over brisket and wrap tightly in plastic. Refrigerate brisket and onion mixture overnight.

    3. The next morning, add half of onion mixture to slow-cooker. Add thyme and bay leaves and place brisket, fat side up, on top. Spread remaining onion mixture over brisket. Cover slow cooker and cook on low until brisket is fork-tender, 9 to 10 hours (or cook on high for 5 to 6 hours). If brisket it especially thick, cook an extra hour. Turn cooker off and allow brisket to rest for 30 minutes.

    4. Remove brisket to cutting board. Cut across grain into 1-to-2-inch slices, and transfer to serving platter. Tent with foil.

    5. Pour sauce into large skillet, discard herbs, and simmer over high heat until slightly thickened, 8 to 10 minutes. Skim off as much fat as possible, add remaining vinegar, then pour half of sauce over brisket. Serve with remaining sauce on side.

 

more about me and my slow cooker

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So I'm kind of obsessed with my slow cooker (some people call it a crock pot but I think those people bought theirs between 1940-1980.) I bought one a couple of years ago, originally for my mother-in-law who does not cook. She can boil — pasta and eggs. She can microwave takeout containers and she makes a mean salad but actual cooking (sauteeing, roasting, baking, broiling, braising, grilling, frying) is not her thing.

Of course she never used it and it stayed at her house gathering dust from the one time I used it there. (On Passover I made Smitten Kitchen's Tangy Spiced Brisket which was tasty but despite all that slow cooking, it was still a little tough. I might even try this recipe again, in the oven.) I also tried Sara Moulton's short ribs which was recently published by the AP News. This was really good but a little too rich for me. And not actually all that easy.

And this is my thing with the slow cooker. If you're already sauteeing onions, garlic, adding spices, browning meat on the stove before you put it in the cooker, why not just cook it on low in a pot ON the stove. I like being able to turn the thing on and forget about it. It's kind of exciting to see it transform over time. But I can cook without it so either 1. there's something unique about the actual vehicle and the way it cooks the food or 2. it's a throw-everything in and let it rip so you can't do it fast and easy.

I started experimenting with Cooks Illustrated's Slow Cooker Revolution. Those guys cooked a million briskets before nailing down the perfect recipe. (They even invented a technique of microwaving onions and spices before adding to sauce.) I've now made Mexican Chicken, Everyday Chili, Tortilla Soup with chicken, Tequila and lime Turkey Chili and Cauliflower and Cheese sauce (which was just dense and clumpy and wound up in the garbage disposal.) Basically I've made every kind of Mexican stew. And Michael has kindly suggested I move on.

And I'm trying to figure out a new angle for the slow cooker because I'm not done with the thing yet. The stews benefited from long and slow because the meat got tender and the flavors melded. That said, the prep was fairly intensive and they were all somewhat similar. I've seen Sara Lee of the Food Network literally throw a raw roast into a slow cooker and pour in some canned broth and voila-dinner. But is the roast any good? If so, this might be a new direction.

puking on passover, a story

This passover we went to the Moshans, where I made dinner of course. Tangy Spiced Brisket (in the slow cooker ala SmittenKitchen) matzoh ball soup, gefilte fish etc. It was good, and much appreciated...which isn't crazy considering the passovers of yore. 

When I first met Michael, we went to a Passover seder with his family. I had been warned that Aunt Alice was the worst cook and that the seder is unbearably long. Sure, sure, I thought. (Michael's family is famously over-enthusiastic—every movie is either the best or worst film they have ever seen in their entire lives—until the next one. Plus they're Long Island Jews so not only do they know little about Passover, they have never heard of Purim.)

I was so unimpressed by their dramatic tales of past seders gone bad, that I balked when we pulled into the parking lot of Teaneck’s Starlite diner—just 20 minutes before we were due at Aunt Alice’s. "You can't eat a double cheeseburger now!"

"You have to," my future brother in law explained. "Or you'll starve."

But I didn't starve. The service was, as predicted, very long, but there was a bowl of boiled potato chunks to tide us over. And after the praying, we dove right into the meal. "GEFILTE FISH! WHO WANTS IT HOT? WHO WANTS IT COLD?" Alice yelled from the kitchen.

COLD! I was hungry. I scarfed down Alice's gefilte fish and her version of matzoh ball soup, which looked stones floating in muddy water and then a small bowl of hard-boiled eggs mashed into cold water and then some kind of green loaf. Uncle Larry reminded us that we, like the Israelites, were still slaves. Ah, I thought, they are going for the slave-food theme.

After dinner, at which I think I was the only one, besides Alice and Larry, who ate, we quickly congratulated Alice on becoming president of her synagogue and hurried to the car. Halfway home, I couldn't hold back any longer. Pull over! I yelled from the back seat. Michael's dad nervously turned off the East Side Highway and sped to a Burger King where I rushed into the bathroom (smelly enough to induce nausea alone) and puked up an unprecedented amount of kosher vegetarian mush. "We told you so" didn't even need to be uttered during the quiet ride home.

Jews have puked up seder meals for centuries. This is not news to me. But as Passover plans started to be discussed for this year, I decided that in the name of freedom, we could and should start a different tradition.

No really, let's NOT go back to Alice's house, I pleaded.

Look whose talking now, my new brother in law joked.

We can do it at our new apartment! It was out of my mouth before I had time to think or even consult Michael. But Michael and I were married now. And we had 400 new serving bowls.

Everyone agreed.

I'm not exactly a professionally trained cook but I do have a subscription to Gourmet and an unhealthy devotion to the Food Network. I've also dated more than my fair share of chefs who taught me a thing or two—about food, that is. That myth about men who can cook? I've never been able to confirm that one, but dinner dates with chefs—highly illuminating. For example, one potential mate religiously refused a second bite of his gazpacho because it had—in his opinion—an unacceptable to the point of repulsive ratio of cilantro to red pepper. It was our last date.

My audience wasn’t quite as cynical but it was complicated: my gourmet mother; my highly critical corporate lawyer father who has eaten at all of the best restaurants; my highly critical little sister who brought her highly critical Israeli friend and the Moshans—who are always a little surprised when something tastes good. This might have something to do with the fact that they store their winter clothes in the oven—which you can't open anyway because the dog's feeding bench blocks the door. Cooking in their house, which I've done occasionally, is like a scavenger hut—the one sharp knife is in the freezer, the plates are stacked in an old chest in the bedroom, and the spices are behind plants. When I have managed to throw together a meal here, the family used words like "magic" and "amazing" to describe turkey burgers.

A few days before the big event, my brother in law made a Haggadah with a picture of Charleton Heston in the Ten Commandments on the cover. It quoted Wikipedia instead of God. Michael made a “Passover Playlist” on his iPod including songs like The Beach Boys’ “God Only Knows;” George Michael’s “Freedom;” and Olabelle’s “High on a Mountain.” And I put together a classic Passover meal with a modern gourmet twist: spinach matzoh balls in a saffron chicken broth; gefilte fish slices on fennel and arugula salad with a tangy horseradish dressing; braised lamb with parsley over a potato parsnip mash.

That night the angel of nausea passed over our house. The meal was so unexpectedly delicious that the Moshans were rendered speechless (a rare occurrence). My dad said it was better than any restaurant meal he’d had. My mom even suggested I write my recipes down so generations after me wouldn't have to endure cold mushy-egg soup. It was the least I could do for my people.