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Musings on Sukkot
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Sukkot in Brooklyn
The residential Brooklyn street known as Ocean Parkway, which runs from Prospect Park (with its horse stables) all the way to Coney Island (with its rollercoasters and beach), is unique. Even if you know Brooklyn, you might not know that it was originally modeled after the Avenue de l’Impératrice in Paris. In addition to the 6 traffic lanes, three in each direction, there’s a one-way service road for local traffic on each side of the street. The main thoroughfare has a traffic light at every corner; the service road has stop signs. And, separating the service road from the heavily trafficked main street, there runs what functions as an oasis on either side.
We lived in one of the semi-detached two-family houses on the west side of the street until I was ten years old. Although I was not permitted to cross all the way to the east side of the street, if I looked both ways carefully, I could cross the southbound service road to the “oasis” on our side.
Down the middle of the strip ran a low iron fence that separated the pedestrian path with its stone benches from the hazards of the bicycle path. That’s, by the way, where I learned to ride my salmon-pink Schwinn without the training wheels.
The strip on the east side of the street that separated those homes from the northbound service road also had a pedestrian path, but instead of cyclists, (in the 1960s) the other side of the fence was reserved for equestrians. I loved watching the people ride by on horseback and wondered about how marvelous it would be to be one of them. Alas, this was an activity in which no one in my family ever took part.
It was a fairly religious neighborhood and it became increasingly so year by year, as more of the secular Jews attained affluence and left for Long Island and New Jersey. We were not religious. We observed Passover and Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur (sort of), we celebrated Chanukah, but that was about it. We never attended synagogue. My father was rather chagrined by what he observed in many of our orthodox neighbors—distinctive dress and meticulous observance, everything to create an appearance would make others think these folks were “good Jews,” while inwardly living lives that bespoke of them being less than good humans.
His standard response, my father’s way of navigating the world in general, was with humor.
And so, he regaled us with stories about our black-clad neighbors that strolled up and down the pedestrian path on Shabbos and the holidays.
There was the one about the circle of Chasidic rabbis performing kapparot before Yom Kipper, swinging live chickens around their heads and standing just a little too closely to one another, so that each one bopped the one next to him in the head with his chicken, and they all went down like dominos. There was sukkot, with throngs of people strolling down the pedestrian paths carrying lulavs and etrogs—fascinating to me—and building their little huts in the backyards and on the porches in front of their homes. He referred to the holiday, not as sukkos, but as tuchas. (Yiddish for rear end…)
…And that was one that I secretly longed to celebrate.
Three doors down from us lived a family with two girls, one my age and the other my younger brother’s age. Their father was an orthodox, but not Chasidic, rabbi. My memory has me eating dinner in the kitchen with my family, window open to invite in the refreshing autumn air. We could hear the rabbi and his family singing in their fabulous little hut. It sounded like such fun.
When Sukkot was over, Rabbi would leave the sukkah up for an extra week, for us neighborhood kids to play house in. It felt magical to be inside. The lights, the decorations, the fruits hanging from the roof…and I could feel the energy, the holiness of the space.
Sukkot in the Pennsylvania Mountains
In my adulthood, when I became more observant, I desperately wanted a sukkah.
At the time, my husband and I were planning a move from suburban Long Island to a small town in the Northern Poconos of Pennsylvania. I agreed to wait to get a sukkah until after the move to that big house surrounded by 23 acres of forest.
When we made the move, one of the first things I did was order a sukkah. We ordered a fancy kit that was only a zillion dollars, and pretty easy to put up. It was great, but let’s face it, it was freezing. One year our schach was destroyed when the weight of a rather large amount of snow caused the fragile bamboo slats to crack. But I didn’t care that I was eating dinner in a long, goose down parka, the fork slipping in my gloved hands. It was heaven.
sukkot in central florida
As we planned our move to Florida, I remember thinking about how terrific it was going be to hang out in the sukkah in short sleeves and flip-flops. Alas, I had no way of knowing how tortured we would be by the evil, blood sucking beasts known as mosquitoes. Ten minutes in the sukkah, and there were hundreds of these demons clinging to the walls and eating us alive. Every night we tried, and every night we went flying back to the safety of the house, dinner plates in hand. By the third year, my mother and my son and his family were saying, “No, thank you” to our invitation.
We tried spraying the walls. We tried spraying ourselves. I bought citronella candles. I bought these granules to sprinkle on the grass that was supposed to drive away mosquitos. We bought an electric bug zapper. One year I even had the county come out and spray our property. Nothing helped.
I had to weigh my options. We’re told to rejoice in the sukkah. No one was rejoicing.
One rabbi suggested to me that we go out to the sukkah, make the blessings, and then go have dinner in the house. Perfectly reasonable, but No.
That made me sad.
I want to rejoice.
I. Want. Dinner. In. My. Sukkah.
I ordered a massive amount of mosquito netting. I banged stakes into the ground all around the sukkah, attached the netting to them, and covered the entire structure, with the exception of the screened entryway, hoisted high above the schach.
Is it kosher? I’ll let the rabbis argue it out. Meanwhile, we could still see the stars. We enjoyed a four course dinner over a span of three hours. Not one mosquito! And we rejoiced.
This is what we ate. And yes, I was in the mood to cook!
So, What Shall We Eat?
It’s traditional to eat stuffed things on Sukkot, to represent a bountiful harvest.
I’m going to get started on that theme with the challah.
Consider making this beautiful creation filled with sweetened apples and cinnamon.
Or have some fun and shape the dough to resemble the four species that we “take up” during the holiday. This photo is from Andrea’s Garden Cooking. She says she made this just by looking at it and copying the design. I did the same. It looks impressive, but if you break it down into its parts, it’s pretty easy.
The lulav in the center, representing a palm branch, is made from a three-strand braid of dough.
The three branches of myrtle on the right are covered in their little rounded leaves.
The two branches of willow on the left sport the long, thin leaves of that tree.
All three species are held together in their woven palm holders.
The etrog, or citron, is kept separate. It’s easy enough to make a citron-shaped oval.
Go as elaborate as you like. Consider painting the finished product with a thin icing made of confectioner’s sugar and water. Yellow on the etrog, perhaps a medium green for the myrtle leaves and a deeper green for the willow leaves.
And while we’re talking about making stuffed things…
You could roll out each rope for the lulav braid into a rectangle, brush each of them down the length with pistachio paste (it’s a bit pricey, but it’s fabulous and a little goes a long way) or almond paste, and then roll them up to form the strands for braiding.
Perhaps roll the dough for the etrog flat, stuff it with a handful of dried fruits of your choosing, and then roll it up into its final shape.
Feel free to let your creativity soar.
The festival of Sukkot lasts for seven day, finishing up on the eighth day with Shemini Atzeret, when we are the guests on the sukkah and HaShem is our host. I daresay there will be more than one menu. Here, I’m including two menus, one for each of the first two nights when the usual holiday restrictions apply. The first can be made as a chicken dinner or a vegetarian dinner. The second is all vegetarian.
Menu #1
For the soup, I start with my tried and true basic chicken, or no-chicken soup with some grated ginger for an exotic flair. This is a clear soup. No carrots and celery mulling about here. So where are the vegetables? They’ve been neatly chopped and packaged in these tasty vegetable kreplach. Break them open to introduce yet another enticing flavor—fenugreek, also known as Methi—that turns this soup into an adventure. You can buy methi here.
I’m a big fan of Persian Seven Jeweled Pilau, an elegant and elaborate rice dish that’s served at important celebrations. Look it up and you’ll find that every recipe for it is a little different, as the seven jewels mean different things to different people. The Chinese also do a version of Seven Jewels Rice—completely different and also fabulous.
Here, I’ve taken the concept and applied it to a Yerushalami Kugel. But why stop at seven? This kugel boasts ten jewels! If you’re not familiar with the dish, it’s a pareve, savory noodle kugel that’s usually made in a tube pan. Heavy on the flavors of black pepper and burnt caramel, it’s surprisingly not sweet. It’s a great dish, and in this version, it holds your attention as you continue to discover new little tidbits of delectibleness. (Here I go, making up words again…)
Have you ever had a recipe that you loved, disappear from the earth? I used to make a tea smoked roasted chicken recipe that I’d modified from one I found in the Sunday Times. This was before people had laptops on which to store things electronically. The recipe was scribbled on a little piece of looseleaf paper. I’m not sure of when it went missing. All I know is that, after multiple moves, I went looking for it one day and it was nowhere. And I couldn’t quite remember how to make it. This was a very long time ago and I’ve long given up on finding it..
Last week I was looking for another recipe, this one a family heirloom which I happily found.
But… while I was digging through piles of little pieces of paper with recipes on them…I found it!
My long lost beloved tea smoked roasted chicken! This, my friends, is the meaning of pure joy. I couldn’t wait to make it again. It became the feature of my Shabbat Sukkot Menu and it melded perfectly with the other dishes I was serving. I’m very excited to share it with you.
For the vegetarians, I turned to old faithful, tofu. With the Asian overtones in the menu, it was a natural.
And, we need a veg. I don’t mean to slight the vegetable portion of the menu. Sometimes I create a whole menu around a vegetable side. But this time, I admit, it was an add-on at the end. It turned out to be an excellent addition. Trader Joe’s had some gorgeous broccolini and some adorable baby cauliflower, which is like broccolini, only related to cauliflower instead of broccoli…(I guess that’s kind of obvious)… I just made it up as I was doing it, and the dish was so good that no one would think it wasn’t carefully planned in advance. I will most definitely be making this again. Best of all, in a meal that has several time consuming parts, it’s super fast and easy. If you can’t find baby cauliflower, use all broccolini. Or use regular broccoli and cauliflower. It all works.
This side is so simple that it doesn’t need its own post. Just trim the vegetables and lay them out on a parchment covered baking pan. Drizzle with olive oil and maple syrup, sprinkle on a bit of salt, garlic powder, and Aleppo pepper. Drop on a dollop of whole grain mustard. Mix it all together with your hands, spread them out in a single layer, and roast at 350° for 15 minutes.
Finally, there has to be dessert. Because I always want dessert. I don’t need a lot of dessert, but I want some. A lovely bit of sweet just puts a cap on the meal and tells my psyche that the meal is done. I decided to go with my favorite Pecan Pie Recipe. It’s quite different from most, as it doesn’t use corn syrup. But…it is dairy. If you’re serving the chicken version of the menu and you keep kosher, there are rules about not eating dairy until a certain amount of time has passed after consuming meat. However, those rules are not as clear-cut as one might think. Check out this very informative discussion on this subject and make your own decision, based upon your own traditions and what seems right to you.