Kosher Food Quotes

Are you going to wolf out and eat me now?" "Certainly not, you'd be stringy and hard to digest." "But kosher." "I'll be sure to point any Jewish lycanthropes in your direction.

Tom Friedman says China is so awesome they make kosher pigs.

food disciplines are part of every great religion. Psychologically they're almost inevitable, and extremely practical....Religious discipline is nothing but a permanent psychic shelter.

Although not all flesh is forbidden, everything that is forbidden is flesh.

A common form of establishment, for much of Besźel’s history, had been the DöplirCaffé: one Muslim and one Jewish coffeehouse, rented side by side, each with its own counter and kitchen, halal and kosher, sharing a single name, sign, and sprawl of tables, the dividing wall removed. Mixed groups would come, greet the two proprietors, sit together, separating on communitarian lines only long enough to order their permitted food from the relevant side, or ostentatiously from either and both in the case of freethinkers. Whether the DöplirCaffé was one establishment or two depended on who was asking: to a property tax collector, it was always one.

Lobster-both-ways is popular tonight. The preparation is easy enough. Take a two-pound lobster. Kill it with a sharp chef’s knife straight between the eyes. Remove the claw and knuckle meat. Steam for five minutes, chop into salad with aioli, celery, and lots of shallots and chives. Chill. Reserve the tail until ordered. Paint with herb-infused oil, season with kosher salt and fresh ground pepper, grill for two or three minutes until it’s just cooked through. Serve with spicy organic greens.

Yield 1 main course Prep time approximately 2 minutes Processing time approximately 10 minutes Calorie Burn 172 Calories 105 Net-Calories -67 Ingredients: Olive oil cooking spray Pinch of red pepper flakes, plus more as desired ½ head cauliflower, grated on the small holes of box grater to the size of rice (about 1 cup) Kosher salt

It was was very important not to cast any pearls before swine -- especially when one of the swine was trying to keep kosher.

Keep two kinds of salt on hand: an inexpensive one such as bulk-bin sea salt or kosher salt for everyday cooking, and a special salt with a pleasant texture, such as Maldon salt or fleur de sel, for garnishing food at the last moment.

Only two questions, however, need concern the civilized creature. Why is traditional kosher wine so second-rate (it is often boiled); and, if Muslims and Jews are the only people whose laws make them (almost) each other’s ideal dinner guests, why can’t they get along?

When I got to Zomick's Kosher Bakery I realized I didn't know very much about food at all. I'd never had a real cake. I'd had those cakes from cake mixes or the ones that have a lot of baking powder in them. A really good Zomick's challah doesn't have anything like that in it - it's all egg power.

SALT: your mouth waters itself. Flakes from Brittany, liquescent on contact. Blocks of pink salt from the Himalayas, matte gray clumps from Japan. And endless stream of kosher salt, falling from Chef’s hand. Salting the most nuanced of enterprises, the food always requesting more, but the tipping point fatal.

What treasures lay inside! Yes, here were the colors that she had asked for: red, pink, yellow, blue, green, black- all in powder form, of course, not like the one or two bottles of liquid food color that were available at the Lebanese supermarket in town; those were not at all modern- some big blocks of marzipan, and, as always, June had included some new things for Angel to try. This time there were three tubes that looked rather like thick pens. She picked one upend examined it: written along its length were the words 'Gateau Graffito,' and underneath, written in uppercase letters, was the word 'red.' Reaching for the other two pens- one marked 'green' and the other 'black'- she saw a small printed sheet lying at the bottom of the bubblewrap nest. It explained that these pens were filled with food color, and offered a picture showing how they could be used to write fine lines or thick lines, depending on how you held them. It also guaranteed that the contents were kosher. Eh, now her cakes were going to be more beautiful than ever!

What would shopping this way mean in the supermarket? Well, imagine your great grandmother at your side as you roll down the aisles. You’re standing together in front of the dairy case. She picks up a package of Go-Gurt Portable Yogurt tubes—and has no idea what this could possibly be. Is it a food or a toothpaste? And how, exactly, do you introduce it into your body? You could tell her it’s just yogurt in a squirtable form, yet if she read the ingredients label she would have every reason to doubt that that was in fact the case. Sure, there’s some yogurt in there, but there are also a dozen other things that aren’t remotely yogurtlike, ingredients she would probably fail to recognize as foods of any kind, including high-fructose corn syrup, modified corn starch, kosher gelatin, carrageenan, tricalcium phosphate, natural and artificial flavors, vitamins, and so forth.

A powerful example of this is seen in the first war of Indian independence, also known as the Sepoy Mutiny, of 1857. Indian soldiers—sepoys—serving in the British East India Company’s army rebelled when it became known that the bullets they were issued were greased in either tallow, derived from cows, or lard, from pigs—major offenses to the Hindu and Muslim soldiers, respectively. Mind you, this was not the British colonial overlords doing something offensive to the core cultural values of either group—for example, declaring Allah a false prophet or banning polytheistic worship. Virtually every culture on earth has food prohibitions, often pretty arbitrary ones meant to merely signal core values (kosher laws for Orthodox Jews, for example, revolve around zoological arcana about whether a species has a cloven hoof) but that eventually gain a huge power. Before it was over, the Sepoy Mutiny killed more than 100,000 Indians.

Physically, Manya was both appealing and aristocratic in her bearing. It wasn't her copious white hair that attracted men, her flawless white skin, her billowing breasts, but the innate womanliness that emanated from her. Even when she wore her cooking clothes- a mammoth Hoover apron that she slipped on over her head and tied around a baggy dress or her cardigan sweater, a dull brown thing appropriate for shopping- she exuded a sympathetic femininity. Many didn't give much thought to her appearance. More often than not she washed her face and body with the brown kosher soap that contained no fat from forbidden animals, and wrapped her hair in a haphazard bun held together with several large imitation-turquoise hairpins. Her cooking shoes were splattered with chicken and goose fat, bits and oddments of duck, salmon roe, even calves' brains. Because she had been raised on the Black Sea, she loved caviar, so every now and then a glistening bead would fall upon her well-fed shoes. The smell of food on her body made her no less alluring.

He chopped a garlic, set a pot of water to boil on the stove, and poured a healthy amount of kosher salt into it. He threw the garlic in a pan of olive oil and let it sizzle for just a minute before taking it off the heat. The smell began to relax all of them and Gretchen and Jane settled themselves at his counter and watched him cook. He poured them both large glasses of red wine and watched as their bodies physically relaxed. He could see the tightness in Jane's jaw go away and he smiled. It was hard to feel bad about the world when the air smelled like garlic, when pasta and cheese were being prepared, when you had a good glass of red. Sautéed garlic could save the world. "I call this my bad day pasta," he told them. "It's a carbonara-cacio e pepe hybrid. Tons of cheese and salt and pepper." He cut off two slices of Parmesan and handed one to each of them. He knew the crunchy crystals and salt would go great with the wine. He whisked the egg and stirred in the cheese. He reserved some pasta water. He cranked his pepper mill. He swirled the pasta into a warm bowl as he added the egg mixture until it was shiny and coated. Jane took a sip of her wine and watched Teddy. "Mike doesn't eat pasta," she said. Teddy took three shallow bowls out of his cabinet and set them on the table. He distributed the pasta among them, sprinkled them with extra cheese and pepper. "Anyone who doesn't eat pasta is suspect in my book," he said. "Amen," Gretchen said.

At first glance, professionalism tries to convince you it’s a neutral word, merely meant to signify a collection of behaviors, clothing, and norms “appropriate” for the workplace. We just ask that everyone be professional, the cis white men will say, smiles on their faces, as if they’re not asking for much. We try to maintain a professional office environment. But never has a word in the English language been so loaded with racism, sexism, heteronormativity, or trans exclusion. Whenever someone is telling you to “be professional,” they’re really saying, “be more like me.” If you’re black, “being professional” can often mean speaking differently, avoiding black cultural references, or not wearing natural hair. If you’re not American, “being professional” can mean abandoning your cultural dress for Western business clothes. If you’re not Christian, “being professional” can mean potentially removing your hijab to fit in, sitting by while your officemates ignore your need for kosher or halal food, sucking up the fact that your office puts up a giant Christmas tree every year. If you’re low-income or working class, “being professional” can mean spending money you don’t have on work clothes—“dressing nicely” for a job that may not pay enough for you to really afford to do so. If you’re a woman, “being professional” can mean navigating a veritable minefield of double standards. Show some skin, but don’t be a slut. Wear heels, but not too high, and not too low, either. Wear form-fitting clothes, but not too form-fitting. We offer maternity leave, but don’t “interrupt your career” by taking it. And if you’re trans like me, “being professional” can mean putting your identity away unless it conforms to dominant gender norms.

We've been here three days already, and I've yet to cook a single meal. The night we arrived, my dad ordered Chinese takeout from the old Cantonese restaurant around the corner, where they still serve the best egg foo yung, light and fluffy and swimming in rich, brown gravy. Then there had been Mineo's pizza and corned beef sandwiches from the kosher deli on Murray, all my childhood favorites. But last night I'd fallen asleep reading Arthur Schwartz's Naples at Table and had dreamed of pizza rustica, so when I awoke early on Saturday morning with a powerful craving for Italian peasant food, I decided to go shopping. Besides, I don't ever really feel at home anywhere until I've cooked a meal. The Strip is down by the Allegheny River, a five- or six-block stretch filled with produce markets, old-fashioned butcher shops, fishmongers, cheese shops, flower stalls, and a shop that sells coffee that's been roasted on the premises. It used to be, and perhaps still is, where chefs pick up their produce and order cheeses, meats, and fish. The side streets and alleys are littered with moldering vegetables, fruits, and discarded lettuce leaves, and the smell in places is vaguely unpleasant. There are lots of beautiful, old warehouse buildings, brick with lovely arched windows, some of which are now, to my surprise, being converted into trendy loft apartments. If you're a restaurateur you get here early, four or five in the morning. Around seven or eight o'clock, home cooks, tourists, and various passers-through begin to clog the Strip, aggressively vying for the precious few available parking spaces, not to mention tables at Pamela's, a retro diner that serves the best hotcakes in Pittsburgh. On weekends, street vendors crowd the sidewalks, selling beaded necklaces, used CDs, bandanas in exotic colors, cheap, plastic running shoes, and Steelers paraphernalia by the ton. It's a loud, jostling, carnivalesque experience and one of the best things about Pittsburgh. There's even a bakery called Bruno's that sells only biscotti- at least fifteen different varieties daily. Bruno used to be an accountant until he retired from Mellon Bank at the age of sixty-five to bake biscotti full-time. There's a little hand-scrawled sign in the front of window that says, GET IN HERE! You can't pass it without smiling. It's a little after eight when Chloe and I finish up at the Pennsylvania Macaroni Company where, in addition to the prosciutto, soppressata, both hot and sweet sausages, fresh ricotta, mozzarella, and imported Parmigiano Reggiano, all essential ingredients for pizza rustica, I've also picked up a couple of cans of San Marzano tomatoes, which I happily note are thirty-nine cents cheaper here than in New York.

Families would name their children religious names such as Jesus, Mary Magdalene, etc. to keep the authorities off their backs, much the same way the Crypto-Jews of Spain and Portugal put swine in their food when it was against their kosher laws.

I adore macaroni and cheese. Whenever I see it on a menu at a restaurant, I have to order it. I’ve had (and consequently made) fried mac and cheese balls, lobster mac and cheese, truffle mac and cheese, quattro formaggi mac and cheese, and Kraft mac and cheese. Now, don’t get me wrong—all of the fancy macaroni and cheese dishes have been delectable and enjoyable, but at home, I like a simple, delicious mac and cheese. So here’s my recipe. This dish is best when served during a game or movie night with family and friends. Serves 8 to 10 8 ounces (225 g) elbow macaroni 1½ cups Velveeta cheese (about 7 ounces/190g), cut into ½-inch cubes 2 tablespoons plus 1 teaspoon all-purpose flour 1½ teaspoons kosher salt 1½ teaspoons dry mustard ¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper ¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg ⅛ teaspoon cayenne pepper ⅔ cup (165 ml) sour cream 2 large eggs, lightly beaten 1½ cups (360 ml) half-and-half 1½ cups (360 ml) heavy cream ⅓ cup (55 g) grated onion 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce 2 cups grated sharp Cheddar cheese (about 8 ounces/230g) • Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease a 9-by-13-inch (23-by-33-cm) baking dish. Bring a 4-quart (3.8-L) saucepan of salted water to a boil. Add the pasta and cook it halfway through, about 3 minutes. Drain the pasta and transfer it to the baking dish. Stir in the cubed Velveeta. • Combine the flour, salt, mustard, black pepper, nutmeg, and cayenne in a large mixing bowl. Add the sour cream and eggs and whisk until smooth. Whisk in the half-and-half, cream, onion, Worcestershire sauce, and a sprinkle of black pepper. Pour the egg mixture over the pasta mixture in the prepared baking dish and stir to combine. Sprinkle the Cheddar cheese evenly over the surface. Bake until the pasta mixture is set around the edges but still a bit loose in the center, about 30 minutes. Let it cool for 10 minutes before serving.

Our hair is as much as 14 percent L-cysteine, an amino acid commonly used to make meat flavorings and to elasticize dough in commercial baking. How commonly? Enough to merit debate among scholars of Jewish dietary law, or kashrut. “Human hair, while not particularly appetizing, is Kosher,” states Rabbi Zushe Blech, the author of Kosher Food Production, on Kashrut.com “There is no ‘guck’ factor,” Blech maintained, in an e-mail. Dissolving hair in hydrochloric acid, which creates the L-cysteine, renders it unrecognizable and sterile.

Is dessert okay? Maybe some kind of bread pudding with homemade ice cream---simple, but hearty and good?" We all nodded. "I'd like to do a raw fish appetizer," said Bald Joe. "Maybe a crudo with hamachi?" "And I'd like to do an entrée," Vanilla Joe said. "A beef dish. Which means our other entrée should probably be seafood." I nodded. "I can do a slow-cooked black bass." We'd done one at the Green Onion that I loved. It had a preserved tomato broth and cauliflower and a pile of nutty grains. I could do farro. That left Bald Joe and me to divide another appetizer and a dessert between us. "I can do a dessert," I offered, thinking about a deconstructed baklava, but Vanilla Joe shook his head. "No. Joe here is already doing one appetizer; we can't make him do two. He'll get overwhelmed." "I really don't mind," said Bald Joe. "As long as Sadie helps me put everything together. I'd rather do an appetizer. I'm not great at pastry." Vanilla Joe shook his head before I could speak up and say of course I would help. "Joe, I want you doing a dessert, so Sadie, you pick an appetizer." Fine. Whatever. I hashed it out with the rest of the team, decided I would make a sunchoke soup with bacon and thyme. Vanilla Joe squinted at me. "I didn't think bacon was kosher." "I don't cook kosher food," I explained patiently. I actually didn't mind; I was used to it. Kosher cooking had a long list of rules: no pork, no shellfish, no combining meat and dairy, among many others. Grandma Ruth had kept kosher, and I had total respect for everyone who did, but it wasn't me.

Saltines and sardines. Staples of his diet. Add a chunk of rat cheese and a Kosher dill spear and you had yourself the four basic food groups. There simply wasn’t any finer fare.

We usually define members of religions by using a kind of checklist. For instance, one could say that if someone believes in the Trinity and incarnation, she is a member of the religion Christianity, but if she doesn’t, she isn’t a proper member of that religion. One could say, conversely, that if someone does not believe in the Trinity and incarnation, then he is a member of the religion Judaism, but if he does believe in those things, he isn’t. One could also say that if someone keeps the Sabbath on Saturday, eats only kosher food, and circumcises her sons, she is a member of the Jewish religion, but if she doesn’t, she is not a member of the Jewish religion. Or, conversely again, if some group believes that everyone should keep the Sabbath, eat only kosher food, and circumcise sons, they are not Christians, but if they believe that these practices have been superseded, then they are Christians. This is, as I have said, our usual way of looking at such matters. However, this manner of categorizing people’s religions runs into difficulties. First, someone has to be making the checklists. Who decides what specific beliefs disqualify a person from being a Jew? Throughout history these decisions have been made by certain groups of people or individuals and are then imposed on other people (who may, however, refuse—unless the deciders have an army). It’s a little bit like those “race” checklists on the census forms. Some of us simply refuse to check a box that defines us as Caucasian or Hispanic or African American because we don’t identify that way, and only laws, and courts, or an army could force us to if they chose to. Of course, it will be asserted that the decisions about Jews and Christians (not Americans) were made by God and revealed in this Scripture or that, by this prophet or that, but this is a matter of faith, not of scholarship. Neither faith nor theology should play a role in the attempt to describe what was, as opposed to what ought to have been (according to this religious authority or another).

Grilled Chicken Wings with Burnt-Scallion Barbeque Sauce ____________ Makes 12 pieces I am borderline obsessed with chicken wings. It’s the perfect food after a long work shift or on a chill day with your friends, crushin’ cheap American beers in the backyard. It’s food that allows you to let your guard down. After all, you’re eating food cooked on the bone with your hands and licking the sauce from your fingers in between chugs of ice-cold beer. Pure heaven. Note that the wings must be brined overnight. Brine 8 cups water ¼ cup kosher salt 1 tablespoon sorghum (see Resources) Wings 6 chicken wings, cut into tips and drumettes 3 tablespoons green peanut oil (see Resources) 1 tablespoon Husk BBQ Rub ¾ cup thinly sliced scallions (white and green in equal parts) ½ cup dry-roasted peanuts, preferably Virginia peanuts, chopped Sauce 10 scallions, trimmed 1 tablespoon peanut oil Kosher salt 1 cup Husk BBQ Sauce 1 tablespoon Bourbon Barrel Foods Bluegrass Soy Sauce (see Resources) 1 cup cilantro leaves Equipment 1 pound hickory chips Charcoal chimney starter 3 pounds hardwood charcoal Kettle grill For the brine: Combine the ingredients for the brine. I brine the wings using either a heavy-duty plastic bag that the wing tips can’t puncture or a Cryovac machine (you use a lot less brine this way). Place the wings in the brine and turn to cover well. Refrigerate overnight. Soak the wood chips in water for a minimum of 30 minutes but preferably overnight. For the sauce: Toss the scallions in the peanut oil and season with salt. Lay them out on the grill rack and heavily char them on one side, about 8 minutes (the charred side should be black). Remove them from the grill and cool for about 5 minutes. Clean the grill rack if necessary. Put the scallions and the remaining sauce ingredients in a blender and process until smooth, about 3 minutes. Set aside at room temperature. For the wings: Fill a chimney starter with 3 pounds hardwood charcoal, ignite the charcoal, and allow to burn until the coals are evenly lit and glowing. Distribute the coals in an even layer in the bottom of a kettle grill. Place the grill rack as close to the coals as possible. Drain the wings; discard the brine. Dry the wings with paper towels, toss in the peanut oil, and season with the BBQ rub. Place the wings in a single layer on the grill rack over the hot coals and grill until they don’t stick to the rack anymore, about 5 minutes. Turn the wings over and grill for 8 minutes more. Transfer the wings to a baking sheet. Drain the wood chips. Lift the rack from the grill and push the coals to one side. Place the wood chips on the coals and replace the rack. After about 2 minutes, place the wings in a single layer over the side of the grill where there are no coals. Place the lid on the grill, with the lid’s vents slightly open; the vents on the bottom of the grill should stay closed. Smoke the wings for 10 minutes. It’s important to monitor the airflow of the grill: keeping the lid’s vents slightly open allows a nice steady flow of subtle smoke. Remove the wings from the grill, toss them in the sauce, and place them on a platter or in a serving pan. Top with the chopped scallions and peanuts and serve.

Fried Mozzarella Sticks Bastoncini di Mozzarella Fritta Fried mozzarella is a tasty dish that children especially like; it can be half fried in advance, then reheated in the oven when guests arrive. It is great finger food to be passed around at a party. MAKES 16 STICKS     Vegetable oil, for frying 1-pound block low-moisture mozzarella cheese (lightly salted) 2 cups all-purpose flour, for dredging 2 cups fine dry bread crumbs 2 large eggs Kosher salt

Of course, Mother's day was never done. In the morning, she would go to the market for vegetables, fruits, eggs, butter, flowers. She cooked all the meals, from scratch. If you wanted to eat chicken, you bought a live bird in the market; took it to the slaughterer, cleaned the feathers, cut it open, koshered it and cooked it. That took hours. If you wanted cookies or cake, you baked them. The only ready made foods were bread and rolls. Everything else had to be prepared in the home.

Father, who was a deeply religious Jew, without being fanatical, took his social responsibilities seriously. He belonged to the Jewish Community Board and was an unpaid member in charge of social aid. Since there were large numbers of poor Jews in town, his responsibility, by his own choice, was to see that nobody goes without Pessach kosher food - matza, meat, potatoes, eggs, sacramental wine. The same care was applied to see to it that Jews in hospitals, the insane asylum and prison were provided with kosher food for the holiday. By the time he had satisfied all these provisions, he came home to celebrate the seder.

The exhortation in Galatians 5:1 to “Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage” concerns liberty of conscience, and not merely liberty to eat non-kosher foods or wear clothing woven from mixed fibers. Jesus did not shed his blood just to make it acceptable for a Christian to eat shrimp and bacon—to be freed from laws that we have labeled ceremonial. Paul is writing about true liberty of conscience that enables Christians to come boldly to the throne of grace—a privilege an Old Covenant believer did not have as long as the veil stood in place. It is a liberty that we must protect against all infringements.

But my own style, I'd say, is more homestyle, with Jewish influences? Not kosher cooking; that's a different thing. I'm inspired by traditional Jewish cuisine." Paper rustled on the other end. "Right, the matzah ball ramen you cooked in your video looked fantastic. We were all drooling in the room!" I perked up. Forgot that I was naked. Forgot that lately I was a walking disaster. "That's one of my go-tos and will definitely be on my future menu. I've been experimenting lately with putting a spin on kugels..." As I chattered on, I could practically see my grandma shaking her head at me. Grandma Ruth had cooked up a storm for every Passover, Yom Kippur, and Chanukah, piling her table till it groaned with challah rolls, beef brisket in a ketchup-based sauce, and tomato and cucumber salad so fresh and herby and acidic it could make you feel like summer in the middle of winter.

Time is currency. Be careful how you spend it.

She had already tied on her apron and started tapping notes into her phone as Daisy laid out the ingredients: a whole kosher chicken; a bottle of olive oil, a pound of butter, a lemon. Onions, garlic, shallots, shiitake mushrooms, Parmesan cheese, and a container of arborio rice; fresh rosemary and thyme, a bag of carrots, a half-pound of asparagus, and a half-pound of sugar snap peas. That was for dinner. For pantry staples, she'd gotten flour, white and brown sugar, kosher salt and Maldon salt, pepper, chili, and paprika; for the refrigerator: milk, eggs, and half-and-half, and, for a housewarming gift, a copy of Ruth Reichl's My Kitchen Year and two quarts of her own homemade chicken stock.

Even in worship, the distinction of classes was observed on the Titanic; assistant purser Reginald Barker conducted the service for second-class passengers in their dining saloon, and a Catholic mass was held in the second-class lounge by Father Thomas Byles, followed by one for those in third class. (There was no Sabbath observance for the significant number of Jews on board, though kosher food was available in all classes.)

Keep two kinds of salt on hand: an inexpensive one such as sea salt or kosher salt for everyday cooking, and a special salt with a pleasant texture, such as Maldon salt or fleur de sel, for garnishing food at the last moment.

SALT: your mouth waters itself. Flakes from Brittany, liquescent on contact. Blocks of pink salt from the Himalayas, matte gray clumps from Japan. An endless stream of kosher salt, falling from Chef’s hand. Salting the most nuanced of enterprises, the food always requesting more, but the tipping point fatal.

Until the war had broken out, there had been some sort of order in the strange and complex mixture of the four disparate peoples crowded into the little valley, all calling themselves Bosnians. They celebrated separate holidays, ate different foods, feasted and fasted on different days, yet all depended on one another, but never admitted it. They had lived amidst an ever present, if dormant, mixture of hatred and love for each other. The Muslims with their Ramadan, the Jews with Passover, the Catholics with Christmas, and the Serbs with their Slavas- each of them tacitly tolerated and recognised the customs and existence of others. With suckling pigs turned on spits in Serbian houses, giving off a mouth-watering fragrance, kosher food would be eaten in Jewish homes, and in Muslim households, meals were cooked in suet. There was a certain harmony in all this, even if there was no actual mixing. The aromas had long ago adjusted to one another and had given the city its distinctive flavor. Everything was "as God willed it." But it was necessary to remove only one piece of that carefully balanced mosaic and that whole picture would fall into its component parts which would then, rejoined in an unthinkable manner, create hostile and incompatible entities. ‏Like a hammer, the war had knocked out one piece, disrupting the equilibrium. Wartime turned differences into outright hatred and instead of blaming the foreign enemy for all their hardships, people blamed their nearest neighbours, which, in turn, represented an invaluable favour to the true enemy of all.

Religious believers build self-control by regularly forcing themselves to interrupt their daily routines in order to pray. Some religions, like Islam, require prayers at fixed times every day. Many religions prescribe periods of fasting, like the day of Yom Kippur, the month of Ramadan, and the forty days of Lent. Religions mandate specific patterns of eating, like kosher food or vegetarianism. Some services and meditations require the believer to adopt and hold specific poses (like kneeling, or sitting cross-legged in the lotus position) so long that they become uncomfortable and require discipline to maintain them.

I've got a leftover cooked pork chop from dinner last night, an acorn squash, pistachio nuts, and honey vinegar." "Okay," I say, practically watching the wheels turning in his little head. "Time starts... now!" Ian gets down to business, steeling his little chef's knife. "Talk me through it as you go," I say. "I'm going to do a pork chop and roasted squash quesadilla with pistachio chimichurri and honey vinegar crema." "That seems smart. Tell me why as you prep." Ian begins slicing the acorn squash into rings, laying them on a baking sheet and drizzling with olive oil. "Well, the pork chop is already cooked, and quesadillas are a smart use for leftovers because they cook fast so things don't have time to dry out or get tough. The squash has good sweetness, which will go well with the pork, and will also be friends with the honey vinegar." "Good. Why not just toss the pistachios into the quesadilla?" He seasons the acorn squash rings expertly with kosher salt, taking a pinch from the bowl and holding his hand at eye level, raining the salt crystals down evenly over the squash, and then pops the tray in the oven. "Because the heat of cooking would make them lose their snap and you need that textural element for contrast with the soft quesadilla." "Excellent. Tell me about the chimichurri." He throws the pistachios into a small nonstick sauté pan and starts to toast them. "Well, I'm toasting the nuts to bring out the flavor and intensify the crunch, and I'm going to chop them roughly and mix them with minced green olives, mint, parsley, shallots, olive oil, a touch of the honey vinegar, maybe some red pepper flakes for heat.

Until the war had broken out, there had been some sort of order in the strange and complex mixture of the four disparate peoples crowded into the little valley, all calling themselves Bosnians. They celebrated separate holidays, ate different foods, feasted and fasted on different days, yet all depended on one another, but never admitted it. They had lived amidst an ever present, if dormant, mixture of hatred and love for each other. The Muslims with their Ramadan, the Jews with Passover, the Catholics with Christmas, and the Serbs with their Slavas- each of them tacitly tolerated and recognised the customs and existence of others. With suckling pigs turned on spits in Serbian houses, giving off a mouth-watering fragrance, kosher food would be eaten in Jewish homes, and in Muslim households, meals were cooked in suet. There was a certain harmony in all this, even if there was no actual mixing. The aromas had long ago adjusted to one another and had given the city its distinctive flavor. Everything was "as God willed it." But it was necessary to remove only one piece of that carefully balanced mosaic and that whole picture would fall into its component parts which would then, rejoined in an unthinkable manner, create hostile and incompatible entities. ‏Like a hammer, the war had knocked out one piece, disrupting the equilibrium.

In Los Angeles, the supermarkets all have kosher sections, health food sections, Mexican and Thai shelves. These packages of foreign hungers mirror the city with their bilingual instructions.

It was probably a misunderstanding.’ Mrs. Henderson went on. ‘Esther swears she explained bacon wasn’t kosher – that was why she wouldn’t eat it. She wasn’t making a fuss for no reason.’ I knew what ‘kosher’ meant. It was the types of food a Jewish person could eat, according to their beliefs, which must mean Esther was a Jew.

If you keep kosher, the protagonist of your meal is not you; it is God.

PROTEIN SOUP This soup is very easy to digest and can be eaten all year long. You could live on it alone for quite some time if need be. I recommend it especially for anyone with digestive difficulties like gas, malabsorption of food, or chronic fatigue. This soup makes a great medicine to rebuild the body without digestive difficulties, and so is ideal for babies, women after giving birth, the elderly, or anyone in a weakened condition. Spicing beans with onions, hing (asafetida), cumin, fennel, cayenne, salt, pepper, and cardamom helps produce less gas. INGREDIENTS 1 cup split yellow mung beans 2 cups white basmati rice 1 inch fresh gingerroot, chopped 1 small handful fresh cilantro leaves, chopped 2 tbs. ghee (clarified butter) 1 tsp. turmeric 1 tsp. coriander powder 1 tsp. cumin powder 1 tsp. whole cumin seeds 1 tsp. mustard seeds 1 tsp. kosher or rock salt* 1 pinch hing (asafoetida) 7–10 cups water *Bragg Liquid Aminos can be added after cooking for flavor or to replace salt. Wash beans and rice together until water runs clear. In a large pot on medium heat mix ghee, mustard seeds, turmeric, hing, ginger, cumin seeds, cumin powder, and coriander powder, and stir together for a few minutes. Add rice and beans and stir again. Add the water and salt and bring to a boil. Boil for 10 minutes. Turn heat to low, cover pot, and continue to cook until rice and beans become soft (about 30–40 minutes). Add the cilantro leaves just before serving.

Garlic-Parmesan Chickpeas Snacking is life, and chickpeas are both healthy and packed with protein. As a bonus, you can reserve the liquid from their can, or “aquafaba,” for a vegan egg substitute (3 tablespoons per large egg and 2 tablespoons per large egg white). Or use it for Zucchini Soldiers (page 113) or “N’awlins” Tofu (page 47). MAKES 2 SERVINGS Ingredients: 1 can (15 ounces) chickpeas, drained, rinsed, and patted dry 1 tablespoon olive oil 1 tablespoon grated Parmesan cheese or vegan Parmesan sprinkle cheese 1 teaspoon garlic powder 1 teaspoon Italian seasoning Pantry items: Kosher salt Directions: Preheat the air fryer to 360°F for 5 minutes. In a medium bowl, combine the chickpeas, olive oil, cheese, garlic powder, Italian seasoning, and a large pinch of salt. Transfer the chickpeas to the fry basket and cook for 12 minutes. Stir and cook until crispy and golden, 3–5 minutes more. Depending on the amount of moisture, you may need to repeat this step in increments of 2–3 minutes. Store in an airtight container for up to 5 days.

Sweet Potato Hash This hash recipe is absolutely delicious and versatile. Serve it for breakfast with a fried egg or for dinner with Herb-Crusted Pork Chops (page 26). Yum! MAKES 2–4 SERVINGS Ingredients: 1 medium sweet potato, peeled and cut into ½-inch cubes ½ cup diced mixed-colored bell peppers ½ cup diced onion Pantry items: Olive oil Kosher salt Freshly ground black pepper Directions: Preheat the air fryer to 360°F for 5 minutes. In a medium bowl, combine the sweet potato, bell peppers, onion, 1 tablespoon olive oil, and a pinch of salt and pepper. Mix until all the vegetables are well coated. Transfer the veggies to the fry basket and cook for 10 minutes. Stir and cook for an additional 10 minutes. Check the tenderness of your sweet potatoes, and if additional time is needed, cook in intervals of 2–3 minutes more.

Falafel Kebabs This recipe easily transforms into patties for making pita sandwiches. Cook them in the fry basket until golden brown, about 5 minutes per side. Serve the falafel with tzatziki sauce. MAKES ABOUT 12 FALAFEL Ingredients: 1 can (15 ounces) chickpeas, drained and rinsed 1 handful flat-leaf parsley, coarsely chopped ¼ small red onion, chopped ½ teaspoon garlic powder Pantry items: Kosher salt Freshly ground black pepper Olive oil 4 skewers (see Note) Multi-purpose skewer rack Directions: Preheat the fryer to 360°F for 5 minutes. In a food processor, pulse together the chickpeas, parsley, onion, garlic powder, a large pinch of salt, and a pinch of pepper. With the motor running, add olive oil, 1 tablespoon at a time (up to 4 tablespoons), until the mixture becomes the consistency of crunchy peanut butter. Spoon out about 2 tablespoons of the mixture and roll into a ball (wet your hands, if necessary, to prevent sticking). Set on a plate, and repeat until all the mixture has all been used. Thread 3 falafel on each skewer. Set the skewers on the rack (put 3 on the rack and 1 directly on the fry basket beneath, if your rack has space for only 3 skewers). Cook for 10 minutes. Rotate the skewers and cook until the falafel begin to brown, 5 minutes more.

red wine–braised short ribs with garlic mashed potatoes costatine con purè di patate Four 12-to 14-ounce boneless beef short ribs Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper 1 cup vegetable oil 2 carrots, cut into large dice 2 celery ribs, cut into large dice 1 yellow onion, cut into large dice 2 tablespoons tomato paste One 750-ml bottle dry red wine 2 cups port 3 sprigs fresh thyme 1 sprig fresh rosemary 1 bay leaf 2 quarts veal stock or chicken stock 2 tablespoons sherry vinegar 2½ cups Garlic Mashed Potatoes (Chapter 8) 2 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley 1 Lay the short ribs in a single layer in a shallow baking pan and season generously on both sides with salt. Cover and refrigerate for 2 hours. 2 Preheat the oven to 375°F. 3 Rinse the salt off the ribs and pat them dry with paper towels. Season the ribs with pepper and a light sprinkling of salt. 4 Heat a casserole or braising pan over high heat. When the pan is hot, put the oil in the pan. When the oil is hot, sear the short ribs on both sides until golden brown. Lift the short ribs from the pan and set aside. If the oil is dark, discard it and replace with fresh oil. 5 Reduce the heat to medium-high and add the carrots, celery, and onion to the pan. Cook, stirring, for about 8 minutes, or until the vegetables brown and caramelize. 6 Stir in the tomato paste. Reduce the heat to medium and cook for 2 to 3 minutes. Add the wine and port, raise the heat to medium-high, and cook for about 5 minutes, or until the liquid reduces by half. 7 Return the short ribs to the pan and add the thyme, rosemary, and bay leaf. Pour the stock into the pan. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Lay a sheet of parchment paper directly on the food and transfer the pan to the oven. Cook for about 2 hours, until the meat is fork tender. 8 Remove the pan from the oven and discard the parchment paper. Add the vinegar. Let the short ribs come to room temperature in the braising liquid. 9 Lift the short ribs from the liquid and set aside on a large plate or bowl, covered, to keep warm. 10 Strain the braising liquid through a fine-mesh sieve or chinois into a saucepan. Bring to a simmer over medium-high heat, reduce the heat to low, and cook for about 15 minutes, or until reduced by a quarter. Using a skimmer or large spoon, skim off any fat that rises to the surface. Season to taste with salt and pepper and pour the sauce over the ribs. 11 Serve immediately or allow to cool to room temperature and then cover and refrigerate for up to 5 days. (If you are serving immediately and the ribs and sauce are not hot enough, reheat gently over medium-low heat for about 10 minutes.)