The song remains the same

I do most of the meal preparation in our house. However, my husband takes over the dinner planning every now and then. That’s a terrific help. The problem is that he never follows a recipe, and he creates unusual formulas for the dishes he prepares. For example, the other night he announced that he was making dinner.

“I’m making jambalaya tonight,” he yelled from the living room.

“What are you putting in it?” I inquired.

“You know, the usual; sausage, chicken, peppers, rice, and broccoli rabe,” he responded.

Okay, so now it’s not jambalaya, it’s something else entirely. There’s no broccoli rabe in jambalaya. I don’t know who decides what goes into a dish to make it authentic and original, but I think they came to that conclusion through trial and error. And, it seems to work well.

Broccoli rabe doesn’t belong in jambalaya.

Just like one day, Nick announced he was going to make eggplant Parmigiano. “Except instead of eggplant, I’m using zucchini, and instead of mozzarella, I’m using feta cheese.”

“So, you’re not really making eggplant Parmigiano,” I deduced.

“Well, yeah, I am. I’m just substituting some things,“ he said with indignation.

“You’re substituting everything. There’s nothing eggplant about it, and there’s nothing Parmigiano about it,” I informed him with a tone that implied that he didn’t know what the heck he was talking about and that I was sick and tired of this scenario, but with love.

At what point does one inject one’s own creativity to a dish and yet still maintain the integrity of the original recipe?

I think it’s somewhat like jazz. Even though there is improvisation and interpretation, the underlining melody still runs through the song. The tune remains within the parameters of the interpretation.

On that note, and it’s a high one, here is an interesting interpretation of caviar:
Cowboy Caviar ala Brokeback Mountain
One can (15.5 oz.) black beans, drained and rinsed
One can (2.25 oz.) sliced black olives, drained and chopped
1/4 cup chopped onion
1 jalapeno, seeded and chopped
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons lime juice
1 clove garlic, chopped
1/4 teaspoon ground cumin
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
Dash of freshly ground black pepper
One package (8 oz.) cream cheese, at room temperature
Chopped cilantro for garnish, optional
Assorted crackers for serving

Mash black beans slightly and place in a medium-size bowl. Add black olives, onion, jalapeño, olive oil, lime juice, garlic and spices. Mix well. Refrigerate, covered, for at least 2 hours.

Spread cream cheese evenly over the bottom of a 9-inch pie plate. Spread the bean mixture over the top. Garnish with cilantro if using and serve with crackers.

Meatloaf, But Not Really
You can substitute cheddar for the feta cheese.
2-pound head of cabbage
2 small onions, diced
1 tablespoon oil
12 ounces ground beef (I like to use chuck)
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon paprika
3 tablespoons ketchup
1/2 cup beef broth
2 1/2 oz. feta cheese
2 eggs
1 cup milk

Cut cabbage into quarters. Remove core and shred remaining cabbage.

Heat oil in a large skillet or Dutch oven; add onions and sauté to a light brown. Add ground beef and sauté for another 5 minutes. Add broth, cabbage, paprika and ketchup to meat mixture and braise over medium heat for 30 minutes until meat loses its pinkness and cabbage is wilted.

Grease a baking dish or casserole dish with butter and dust with breadcrumbs. Fill with the hot beef and cabbage mixture. Sprinkle with cheese.

Beat eggs with milk and pour over the meat. Place in preheated 400° oven and bake for 45 minutes. Serve with mashed potatoes. Serves 4.

Nik Knack

Recently, I was pouring through the New York Times food section and there it was: a recipe for potatonik. I let out a scream of joy. I’ve been looking for a recipe to replicate that wonderful steamy concoction of my youth for such a long time and there it was in front of my eyes.

Living in the Brighton Beach section of Brooklyn for many years, I was fortunate enough to live within walking distance of Mrs. Stahl’s knish store. For those of you unfamiliar with this Jewish delicacy, a knish is delicious handheld mashed potato pie. A piece of dough is filled with mashed potatoes, kasha, or other vegetables, and baked. I’ve never seen any filled with meat, though I have heard of chopped liver knishes. I’ll pass, though.

Mrs. Stahl’s offered potato, spinach, kasha, mushroom, and cabbage knishes, as well as blueberry-cheese and cherry-cheese knishes (the cheese was cream cheese).

I would stop into Mrs. Stahl’s shop when returning home from work and trudging down the many steps of the D train subway station on Brighton Beach Avenue. Not a regular item on the menu, but sometimes available when I was lucky, was potatonik.

This item was a masterpiece in the knish world. A potatonik is a dense, crusty Eastern European potato kugel (pudding) made with yeast, baked in a pan with lots of oil, and cut into individual square pieces. It was spiced with loads of ground pepper and steaming hot, and when it was passed to me in a piece of waxed paper dripping with oil, I was in heaven. In the winter, walking the few blocks to my apartment, that hot little square of heaven kept my hands and my tummy warm and comforted.

Since leaving Brooklyn, I’ve been searching cookbooks and the internet for a potatonik recipe to no avail. I had an idea I could improvise by making a potato pudding or a giant latke (pancake), but it wouldn’t really satisfy me like an authentic recipe would.

This is such a wonderful way to start off the New Year, and I have loads of potatoes left over from Hanukkah to get started on my potatonik. Now if I could only find a recipe for cabbage knishes, my favorite and the most obscure of all the knish varieties.

Potatonik
1 package active dry yeast (2 1/2 teaspoons)
1/4 cup warm water
1/4 teaspoon sugar
6 large potatoes, peeled
1 large onion
2 eggs
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 tablespoon salt
1/2 teaspoon or to taste freshly ground black pepper
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
Additional oil

Dissolve yeast, water and sugar in a measuring cup. Let rest 10 minutes, until foamy.
Meanwhile, grate potatoes and onion by hand or in a food processor. If you want to have an authentic potatonik, grate the vegetables by hand and make sure you get some of your knuckles, as well.

In a large bowl, blend eggs, the 2 tablespoons of the oil, salt and black pepper. Stir in the grated potatoes and onion. Add flour and the dissolved yeast; mix well. Mixture will be thick. Cover bowl with plastic wrap and let rise in a draft-free area for about 1 hour. It will rise and get somewhat puffy.

Pour vegetable oil into a 9x12-inch rectangular baking pan to a depth of about 1/4-inch. Pour in the batter. The oil will come up and over the batter. This is good. Let the batter rest for about 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, preheat oven to 375°F. Bake potatonik on the middle rack for 45 minutes. Dip a paper towel into some more vegetable oil and pat the top of the potatonik with the oil bake another 10 to 15 minutes, until golden brown and crusty. Serve hot. Serves 12 or 6 Jews from Brooklyn.

Note: potatonik can be refrigerated for several days or frozen for 1-2 weeks. Reheat at 325° until warm, or develops a hard crust.