Matzo mixes with mitzvah for Passover

• Origins, customs of Passover
• Each food has meaning

By Wanda A. Adams
Advertiser Food Editor

Illustration by Jon Orque • The Honolulu Advertiser

Each item on a Seder plate has special meaning relating to Passover, the festival celebrating the freeing of Jews from slavery. Advertiser library photo

It was what Jews would call a mitzvah — an act of kindness offered from the heart. A decade ago, an elderly Jewish friend, widowed, childless, ill and living alone, was telling me how much she missed her family's large, noisy, friendly Passover celebrations back in Cleveland. I decided that, with the help of a Jewish friend who would handle the ceremonial aspects, and another friend with a commodious kitchen and well-stocked dining room, we would give Hildy a Pesach (Hebrew for Passover).

The Exodus story also is part of the Christian heritage. And, in any case, I love exploring other people's food traditions. The event was a great success, and I must have a Jewish gene or two somewhere because I took to matzo balls like I'd been making them all my life (thanks to Faye Levy, author of the excellent "International Jewish Cookbook").

Hildy died the following year, but each year I observe the Pesach tradition in honor of a woman who embodied many of the values that the holiday upholds, including courage and steadfastness in the face of adversity, faith and belief in God no matter what, and a great sense of humor. (Even at the most solemn Pesach Seders, the tradition allows for questioning, debate and, more often than not, at least some gentle humor. One year, the group I was in got into an argument about whether Moses needed an environmental impact statement before parting the waters — do you need one for an act of God?)

Furthermore, I married into a Jewish family last year, and although we have yet to celebrate Pesach with my husband's Mainland family, it's something to write them about.

Our ecumenical (and often uproarious) Passover Seders — with the ceremonial meal conducted by Jewish friends and a bunch of bemused non-Jews along for the ride — are a highlight of the year. This year, with Passover's first evening falling on April 16, we'll be eating chicken soup and roast lamb at home.

Last year, however, I celebrated Pesach with Advertiser restaurant critic Matthew Gray and his extended 'ohana, including cousins of his sweetheart, Angelina Joseph. This family of four arrived from snowy Minneapolis with their bags packed with the traditional horseradish condiment, yarmulke (skullcaps) for the father and son and Haggadah (books that guide you through the ceremony). The man of the house served as our leader, explaining, not so tongue-in-cheek, that most Jewish holidays boil down to "They tried to kill us. They didn't succeed. Let's eat."

Several of the number were Jewish, and there was a great deal of warm discussion about Passovers past, and discussion of how even nonobservant Jews will somehow find their way to a Seder every year. It is clearly a great joy and comfort to Jews — even on a day when a terrible bombing had taken lives in Israel — to know that everywhere around the world, people are sitting down to the same ceremonial menu, reciting the same prayers. Even the non-Jews around the table felt a part of something special.

The foodies among us marveled at the complexities presented by this meal: First of all, even if you don't keep kosher the rest of the year, for Passover, nobody mixes meat and milk, no leavened products are served, and most people go to the additional trouble of doing a major spring cleaning as required by Talmudic law.

The ceremony — which involves prayers, storytelling, consumption of ceremonial foods and wine, candle-lighting and time for reflection — takes at least an hour and a half and, in many households, much longer. It's not unusual for dinner to begin at 10 or 11 p.m., which means you've got to prepare in advance dishes that hold well, reheat quickly or are good at room temperature. Add to this the fact that, since the date of Passover is governed by the Jewish lunar calendar, the first night — the one most often celebrated — often falls on a weeknight.

Last year, Matthew prepared a magnificent spread: spiced brisket with onions, roast potatoes, homemade chopped liver, salads, a spectacular almond and strawberry tart and all manner of accompaniments. Another friend brought a Sephardic-style chicken rich with nuts and spices, and a baked salmon dish that was to die for. I had promised to contribute a carrot tsimmes (carrots baked until they're caramelized) and macaroons.

But just before the event, Dana Washofsky of Kailua, a friend of a friend, gave me "The When You Live in Hawaii You Get Very Creative During Passover Cookbook," compiled in 1989 by Congregation Sof Ma'Arav in Honolulu. The book was a Special Merit Certificate winner in a national community cookbook competition, and the recipes are tested and true, mostly very easy and enjoyable regardless of whether you observe Passover.

I love a challenge, and when I saw the recipe for gefilte fish made with island seafood instead of the customary whitefish, pike or carp, I had to try it. The knobby, grayish croquettes you see in jars always struck me as pretty nasty looking. But I'd heard people speak longingly of their mother's or grandmother's gefilte fish and wanted to see what the fuss was about.

Now I know. The results were not at all odd-tasting, heavy or gelatinous. Instead, the quick food processor recipe makes light, delicately flavored fish croquettes.

This dish worked the first time and every time since. If you're not keeping kosher, you could use rough cracker crumbs or bread crumbs instead of matzo meal. If you have trouble finding butterfish (black cod) that hasn't been packed in miso, you can use shutome (as I did) or other slightly oily, white-fleshed fish.

My primary departure from Evelyn Trapido's original recipe is in the stock. She suggests making a stock with the trimmings and bones from the fish. But since you're likely to be buying fillets, you won't have much to work with. To add layers of flavor, I used Knorr-brand fish buillon as well as a cube of Telma-brand mushroom bouillon to make a richer stock (see today's Off the Shelf column). I found Knorr fish bouillon at Foodland Beretania, but you could also use bottled clam broth or dashi. Or make a fish stock with aku bone, always available at fish shops and often found in supermarket fish counters.

In many households, gefilte fish is served chilled in a jelled broth; the broth jells when cold because of the protein from the fish bones in the stock. But this broth is too thin to gell, so add a little kosher gelatin to the simmering broth just before you put the croquettes in if you plan to serve the dish chilled.

Maintain scrupulous cleanliness as you work with this recipe, and keep fish chilled until use.

Gefilte Fish Goes Hawaiian

• 3 carrots
• 3 medium onions
• 2 lemons
• 3 cubes fish bouillon
• 1 cube mushroom bouillon
• 3/4 pound mahimahi fillets
• 3/4 pound butterfish or shutome fillets
• 2 teaspoons salt
• Pepper to taste
• Dash of cinnamon
• Olive oil for sauteing
• 1 1/2 teaspoon vegetable oil
• 1 egg
• 1/4 cup cold water
• 1 1/2 tablespoons matzo meal
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/8 teaspoon pepper
• 1/4 cup flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped (optional)

Chill a large bowl.

Make a fish stock: Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Add to this, 2 of the carrots, cut into chunks; 2 of the onions, cut into eighths; one and a half of the lemons, quartered; the trimmings, bones and skin from fish fillets; fish and mushroom bouillon cubes. Return to a boil, skim and simmer one-half hour. Add salt, pepper and cinnamon; taste, correct seasonings. Strain broth and return to burner on medium heat. (You could refrigerate the broth and proceed to make the dish later, but don't hold more than a day.)

Chop the remaining onion and saute in olive oil until almost golden. Slice remaining carrot into thin rounds and set aside. Cut fish into 1- to 2-inch cubes. Using a food processor with a steel blade, quickly grind together fish, sauteed onion, oil, egg, water, matzo meal and seasonings, plus the juice of the remaining half lemon and the finely chopped parsley, if you're using it (or reserve the parsley for garnish, if you like). The mixture should be ground to a paste. Turn out into chilled bowl.

You can work with your hands (wet them in chilled water first) or a large serving spoon. Form an egg-size round or oval and drop this into the simmering broth. Repeat until you've used up all the fish paste. Add reserved carrot rounds. Bring to a gentle boil; turn heat down, cover and simmer half an hour. The croquettes will sink first, then float to the top; they'll be a creamy color.

At this point, you can serve the gefilte fish hot or refrigerate them in broth to cover. Then serve them cold or reheat them very gently. Or, if you're not using them for Passover, remove croquettes to a warm dish in the oven, use the fish stock to make a white sauce and serve the croquettes in a pool of white sauce with braised vegetables and rice or potatoes.

Origins, customs of Passover

Passover: A spring festival commemorating the release of the Israelites from captivity in Egypt. Pesach (PAY-ack) means to pass over or protect, referring to the fact that Israelites' homes were passed over when God took the first-born sons of the Egyptians, the last of the plagues sent to persuade the pharaoh to release the Jews.

Customs: The eight-day celebration includes two ceremonial meals (first and second-night Seder suppers, pronounced SAY-der). Before Passover, the whole house is to be thoroughly cleaned and all forbidden foods removed. In Orthodox households, special Passover dishes are brought out. Throughout the holiday, unleavened bread — matzo — is eaten, representing the haste with which the Jews fled, so fast that there was no time for bread to rise. During Seder, the narrative of the exodus (the Haggadah) is recounted as the youngest child asks a series of five questions to prompt the telling. Four cups of wine are consumed during the course of the Seder to commemorate the redemption of the Jewish people, the sanctity of the holiday and events related to the Haggadah. A special cup sits filled at an empty place, and the door is left ajar, in case the Prophet Elijah returns. And a piece of matzo, the afikomen, is hidden, to be hunted by the children at the end of the meal.

Each food has meaning

Prescribed foods are set out on a special plate, each symbolic of some aspect of the ordeal undergone by the Israelites during their enslavement.

The Seder plate: On the plate are these items —

• Zroah, a roasted shankbone with a little meat on it. This is not eaten but symbolizes the sacrifices offered in Jerusalem on the eve of Passover.
• Beitzah, a roasted egg, considered a symbol of mourning for the destroyed temple in Jerusalem.
• Karpas, a vegetable, usually celery or parsley, to be dipped in salt water and eaten, symbolizing tears.
• Maror, horseradish or bitter herbs, represent the harsh conditions of slavery.
• Charoset, a sweet mixture of fruit, spices and wine, symbolizing the mortar between bricks that the Jews made as slaves in Egypt.