purim seduah
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It’s Purim! Time to dress up as anything (other than yourself), give charity to the poor, give gifts of food to your loved ones, and p-a-r-t-y like it’s 5785!
It’s also the perfect holiday for creating a Persian feast.
But wait! Before we get into the holiday menu, let’s talk about the holiday itself.
Maybe you know all about it. Or maybe you want to know more.
If you need to brush up on your Purimology, I’ve put the whole megillah—Megillah Esther that is, in its entirety, right at your fingertips, in English.
Or, for the lighter side of the Purim Story, I direct you to The Story of Purim, the made-for-tv-miniseries version.
Or, read both and become an expert!
So, now that we know the what, the why, and the wherefore…
What shall we eat?
I’m pretty sure that my Purim feast pales in comparison to the feast that Queen Esther prepared for her husband the King, and his advisor, Haman. But a queen wouldn’t have had to do the cooking herself—she had a full staff for that. Here, it’s just me in the kitchen, so while I want it to be special, I also need to keep it real. Non-royal household notwithstanding, my Persian style menu received rave reviews from family and friends.
But while Esther enjoyed the benefits of living like a queen, this also put her at a disadvantage. She had no way of knowing what was in the food or how it was prepared. She was committed to keeping the Jewish dietary laws of Kashrut, so while living in the palace she ate a strictly vegetarian diet.
We can honor the memory of that by serving a vegetarian meal, but because we do know what’s in our food, it’s still in keeping with the spirit of the occasion to serve meat. The choice is yours to make. And because I’m all about personal choices, I’m offering you two versions of the menu—one for vegetarians, and one for omnivores.
Make either, or make both!
You could serve a regular challah. It’s always a more than respectable choice.
But I suggest you check out my Eyes of Haman Challah. Bread doesn’t get more fun than this one. The original concept isn’t mine, but the execution is. And speaking of execution, when this bread hits the table, I can promise that Haman will be very quickly executed.
Over the years I’ve refined my technique, streamlining the process and increasing the awesomeness of the final product. I won’t lie—it takes a while to do it. But it’s super fun to create and when you see the reactions at the table, you’ll know that this juice is definitely worth the squeeze. And, you can make it a day or two before the holiday so you’ll still have time to make a mountain of hamantaschen and a beautiful feast. Wrap your Eyes of Haman Challah tightly in plastic wrap and it will be fine.
If you’d prefer to not have your bread stick its tongue out at you, you can also try your hand at my sweet almond flavored Queen Esther’s Crown Challah.
As with so many of our holidays, the foods we eat are symbolic of deeper themes. The Purim story is full of intrigue, where things and people are sometimes not what they seem, and truth is often hidden.
On Purim, it's traditional to “drink until one can’t tell the difference between Haman and Mordechai”—it’s the only day of the year when we’re told to party like that. Makes sense on a day when up is down and things are not what they seem. These fun martinis should have you on your merry way.
But with this said, setting limits for ourselves is always prudent. The goal is to cloud the mind a little, to get a little tipsy and temporarily alter your consciousness a bit, so as to perhaps see things in a somewhat different way. But that cloud should not be so thick as to obliterate the sun. A clouded mind, whether brought about by a foreign substance, from a desire for too much power, or from anything else that can take us to a place where we don’t know good from evil is a very dangerous thing. Please don’t make yourself ill, or put yourself, or others, in harm’s way.
By the way, if you’re someone who can’t, or chooses not, to drink alcohol, it’s very possible to take yourself to that place of joy and not-quite-reckless behavior without the use of substances. These libations are just as festive and joyful as their alcoholic cousins.
Several years ago, I decided to make a Persian-style chicken soup for Purim. I was sure my 90-year-old mother would take one taste and hate it, but I forged ahead. I was still in the kitchen filling bowls, with my daughter and daughter-in-law ferrying them out to the table, when I heard my mother almost shout from the dining room, “It tastes just like my mother’s!” I dropped my ladle in shock. In truth, it was full of ingredients that Grandma had never put in her soup. Even the method was different. Who cares! Mother liked it!!!
I’ve now worked out a vegetarian version of that soup that pleased everyone, carnivores and vegetarians alike.
In keeping with the Purim theme, we eat foods filled with surprises, that look like one thing on the outside and turn out to be something else on the inside—hence kreplach in the soup.
The salad is a riff on the one in the Jerusalem cookbook, by Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi. The addition of chickpeas adds some protein, and they’re also pretty tasty, both of which are good things.
The stew was a hit with everyone, including toddlers and people who hate walnuts. Because the walnuts are finely ground, they’re imperceptible (as long as no one’s allergic!). A simple steamed basmati rice (with some saffron threads dissolved in the water) was the perfect accompaniment. Persian rice, a fabulous dish that takes a bit longer to create, would have been wonderful, but again it’s just me in the kitchen and I’m not as young as I used to be. I’ll give you the recipe, just in case you’re motivated, or have helpers.
Finally, if it’s Purim, there must be hamantaschen! You can do the baking a couple of days in advance. Just keep them covered and they’ll be fine. And although I’m a bit shy about bragging, the hamantaschen trophy on my shelf says, “best in show.”