purim seduah
menu
It’s Purim! Time to dress up as anything but yourself, give charity to the poor, give gifts of food to your loved ones, and p-a-r-t-y! It’s also the perfect holiday for creating a Persian menu.
It’s been said that while Queen Esther lived in the Palace of King Ahasuerus, she ate a vegetarian diet so as not to break the Jewish dietary laws of Kashrut.
I’m pretty sure that my Purim feast was nowhere near as elaborate as the feast that Esther prepared for King Ahasuerus and Haman; nevertheless my vegetarian version of this Persian style menu received rave reviews from family and friends, and that includes the omnivores. Of course, Esther didn’t actually have to do the cooking herself—she had a full staff for that. Here, it’s just me in the kitchen, so I need to keep it real. And, since unlike Esther we do know what’s in our food, it’s within the theme to serve the meat version of the menu. Make either, or make both!
But wait! Before we get into the holiday menu, let’s talk about the holiday.
Maybe you know all about it. Maybe you want to know more.
If you need to brush up on your Purimology, you can click here to read the whole megillah—Megillah Esther, in its entirety, in English. Or click here to read The Story of Purim, the made-for-tv-miniseries version. Or, read both!
You could serve a regular challah. A flatbread such as pita would also suit this meal, but my Eyes of Haman Challah is so much fun. The original concept isn’t mine, but the execution is. In fact, when this bread hits the table, Haman is quickly executed! Each year I 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 the juice is definitely worth the squeeze. And, you can make it a day or two before the holiday. Just keep it wrapped in plastic wrap and it will be fine.
If that seems like it’s a bit too much, 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 martinis should have you on your merry way.
But with this said, setting limits for ourselves is 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 look at things in a 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, or 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. Do not 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.
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. They’re also pretty tasty, and that’s a good thing.
The stew was a hit with everyone, including toddlers and people who hate walnuts. Because the walnuts are finely ground, they’re imperceptible. 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.