Many of the items here are things you’ve seen on my Instagram and asked about. Others reflect my love and support for the embattled country I’ve called home for the past decade. And some are just darned fun. So if you’re looking to get the foodie in your life something they will truly love and use, here are a few of my absolute musts.

BUDGET FRIENDLY BUT CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT

This microplane is truly top of line and doesn’t break the bank. I use it everyday for grating parm, zesting lemons, and adding a dash of fresh cardamom to my recipes.

In a weak moment of Tiktok influenced shopping I bought this lemon squeezer for a video where I was reviewing different ways ectract juice from a lemons. I wanted to see if it was worth the hype, and it is now my most-used handheld citrus juicer (see the Zaksenberg juicer below for next-level juicing.)

You’ll never catch me without one of these net bags in the shuk, ideal for stashing produce and other goods. They expand to hold an almost obscene amount of shopping, and they’re great for the farmers’ market devotee, or tote bag collector in your life.

FOR THE COFFEE LOVER

As many of you likely know, I make my own almond milk, and my go to nut milk bag for the process is this one. It’s also fabulous for making large batches of cold brew!

A great gift is always to elevate something they might already have by getting them the “luxury” version. For a coffee lover, a great thing to gift is a beautiful Moka Pot or French press.

FOR THE APPETITE

If you’re looking for a gift for the baker in your life, I would recommend getting them a selection of the following to up their baking game: Top notch vanilla bean paste from Neilsen-Massey, delicious date syrup from the Date Lady, and the best non-dairy, top-quality chocolate chips from California Gourmet. Pair the ingredients with this USA Ware half sheet pan I get asked about all the time to make it a complete gift set.

I was honored to curate a gift box with Kaiten featuring products from Adama La Adam, a nonprofit helping reduce food waste and support Israeli farmers. The package includes jelly, relish, hot sauce, and a bottle of top-quality Israeli olive oil from Rish Lakish.

In my opinion Tahini is always the answer to any culinary question. Both Soom and Seed and Mill are readily available in the US and perfect for gifting.

Nooish Matzo Ball Soup is a fun new instant matzo ball soup that was developed by my friend Sarah Nathan. It’s kosher, dairy-free, and a fun gift for your favorite college student (easy to make in their dorm room!) or anyone in need of instant Jewish Penicillin.

SPLURGES THAT LAST A LIFETIME

There is no better juicer for citrus than the Zaksenberg. Made on Kibbutz Holit in Northern Israel, this investment piece makes quick and gorgeous work of squeezing every last drop of juice from oranges, lemons, limes and, yes, pomegranates! Great colors to choose from, and worldwide shipping.

On a recent trip to Copenhagen I purchased these wooden Jesper Salt and Pepper mills. In addition to sleek Scandinavian design, they grind like a dream and look gorgeous on my counter.

Every kitchen needs at least one Staub Dutch oven. These enamel-coated cast-iron pots are heavy for a reason; they conduct heat efficiently, making your cooking more efficient. Perfect for boiling water, cooking stews, baking briskets. They come in so many gorgeous colors, too!

Zahava Heirlooms is an LA-based boutique jewelry brand with subtle nods to founder Jessica Hendricks Yee’s Jewish heritage and love of Israel. Her olive branch or pomegranate vine pendants are beautiful, timeless pieces any recipient will love forever.

The sleekest way to make soda at home is the Aarke Soda Maker. I have had one for a few years now and it not only looks great on my counter but is also perfect for whipping up a Gazoz at any moment.

SUPPORT ISRAELI ARTISTS

Ya’ara Ceramics, made in Southern Israel, are gorgeous, minimalist, cream-colored, and stand up to daily use.

My dear friend Shaily Lipa’s Kitchen Spray is perfect for the host/ess in your life, or for your friend that loves perfume and candles. They’re the first scents designated for the kitchen, but can be diffused into any room in the home. Scents: Lemon Pie and Cinnamon Roll, with more to come.

Tel Aviv-based Nurit Kariv, my beloved cookbook stylist, is considered one of Israel’s top tastemakers. In the past few years, in addition to working on photo shoots for books and fashion/lifestyle campaigns, she has begun collaborating with Israeli artisans to produce Nu, an ever-evolving and eclectic assemblage of the most gorgeous (and, yes, pricy, but timeless and oh-so-chic) homewares, from tablecloths and vases to ceramics and handbags. Check out her collection via Instagram. Though she does not have a Website yet (coming!), you can message her directly on Instagram to order. Worldwide shipping.

We all have a friend with a sourdough starter they treat like a family member—not to mention the one who pickles anything and everything they can get into a jar. Gazoz, the book I wrote with Benny Briga from Cafe Levinsky 41 in Tel Aviv, is a great gift for said people. It contains everything they need to know to craft gorgeous glasses of fizzy, fruit-filled, gut-friendly, mildly probiotic drinks. Once you make them at home, you’ll be hooked - and save yourself a pretty penny.

Makers of Israel connects Israeli makers with international customers who want to support unique Israeli craftsmanship and small businesses during these challenging times. There are gorgeous candles, ceramics, food items, and virtual cooking classes to choose from.

DONATE TO GREAT CAUSES

If you are looking for somewhere to donate this season, my husband, Jay works for the Society for the Preservation of Nature in Israel. Since 1953 they’ve been at the forefront of nature protection in Israel, ensuring the care of endangered species; creating and maintaining Israel’s trail maps and field schools; leading Israel’s vibrant birding sites; and protecting Israel’s oceans and forests. Since October 7th they’ve provided programming for hundreds of thousands of young people in Israel, taking them on outings that use nature as as a springboard for processing and healing the catastrophic events of that day. Your end-of-year gift will help ensure that Israel stays beautiful and green forever—and net you one of their famous nature calendars.

This year, the Hostage Family Forum has created special candle holders to raise awareness for the 100 hostages still being held in Gaza. The set includes eight yellow candles, symbolizing hope for every night of Chanukah.

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I’m making soup to calm my jangled nerves. I’m not sure it’s working, but I’ll try any slurpable drug in these frazzled, uncertain times.

This war has been going on for almost 15 months, and the toll…

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Let me tell you, anyone and everyone did. I received hundreds and hundreds of messages asking for instructions on how to make this sage- and thyme-flecked, seasonally perfect bake. 

I suspect the reasons are many. 

One, we are all in need of comfort right now. Regardless of who you voted for; where you live; what you do; or how tuned into the news you are, we all need comfort. And sometimes, the easiest kind of comfort is the kind you make yourself, in the kitchen. 

I can only speak for myself but the meditative process of roasting the veg, mixing the cheeses, making brown butter as the base for a delicious béchamel (easier than you think!), then layering everything and baking until bubbly–it may have kept me calm for almost 24 hours, a time-release sedative with leftovers included. 

Two, this recipe is damn delicious, and that’s easily discernible even through a somewhat grainy IG pic. 

Three, I don’t post many recipes that don’t include an Israeli/Middle Eastern twist. This one has no sumac, no hawaiij, no harissa, no amba, just beautiful fall ingredients, Northern Italian cooking influences, and sublime results.

A few notes: 

• I had some frozen ricotta and mozzarella from a recipe I prepared for and didn’t end up making, and it worked super well here. The lesson is, if you have extra cheeses, freeze them! Was especially surprised at how well the ricotta held up. When I defrosted it, I drained it well and added touch of heavy cream to bind it. 

• You can do this with just squash, or just mushrooms (though you’ll need to double the shrooms). 

• If you are making this for a crowd, double the recipe and use a 9 x 13 inch baking dish or lasagna pan. 

• I made this with no-boil noodles because that’s what I had, and they worked well with the less saucy recipe. Don’t overbake!  I find that they can go soggy if you don’t follow the package instructions for baking time, so having the squash and mushrooms well roasted helped it succeed. If you have regular boilable noodles, cook them first and stick to the times instructed here. 

I am on my way back from a speaking engagement in the United States, and many people asked me what has sustained me this year. I am often at a loss for words, or fearful of cliches and often-used tropes. The answer I always return to is cooking, and I stand by that word and what it brings to my life, how it helps me, and how I think it can help you, too.

Enjoy the lasagna. Keep calm and keep cooking. 

Butternut Squash & Mushroom Lasagna

Serves 6

A 2- pound butternut squash, peeled, seeded, and slices into ¼-inch rounds or pieces

5 tablespoons olive oil

15 sage leaves 

2 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt

¾ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1 pound assorted mushrooms, stems removed, sliced 

1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves, plus 2 sprigs

3 tablespoons butter 

4 tablespoons flour 

2 3/4 cups whole milk 

1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg 

2 cups (5 ounces) finely grated parmigiano reggiano cheese 

3/4 pound ricotta cheese

¾ pound fresh mozzarella, tiny cubes or grated on the large holes of a box grater

1 egg 

1 tablespoon finely grated lemon zest

1/4 teaspoon chilli flakes

10 to 12 no-boil lasagna noodles

Arrange two racks in the top and bottom thirds of the oven; preheat to 400°F. 

Arrange the squash on a large rimmed baking sheet. Drizzle with 3 tablespoons of the olive oil, ½ teaspoon of the salt, and ¼ teaspoon of the pepper. Turn the squash to coat, then add 10 sage leaves to the sheet.  

Arrange the mushrooms on a second large rimmed baking sheet.  Toss with 2 of the tablespoons of the olive oil, 1 teaspoon of the thyme and ¼ teaspoon each of the salt and pepper. 

Roast the squash until tender and golden in spots and the mushrooms until they are golden and have released their liquid, 15 minutes for the mushrooms and 20 to 25 minutes for the squash. Remove to cool and raise the oven temperature to 450°F. 

In a medium saucepan melt the butter over medium-high heat, swirling, occasionally, until the milk solids start to separate and toast, 2 to 3 minutes (you’ve just made brown butter). Whisk in the flour all at once until smooth and cook, whisking, until lightly golden, 2 to 3 minutes. Add the milk, 2 sprigs of thyme, 3 sage leaves, 1 teaspoon of the salt, and the nutmeg. Raise the heat to high and bring to a boil, whisking constantly. Reduce the heat to medium and continue to cook, whisking, until thickened and can coat the back of a spoon, 10 minutes. Whisk in 1 cup of the parm. 

In a large bowl combine the ricotta, mozzarella, ½ cup of the parm, egg, chili flakes and remaining ¼ teaspoon pepper until incorporated. 

Spread 1/2 cup of the béchamel evenly to coat the bottom of an 8 x 8 or 9 by 9 inch square baking dish. Arrange a layer of lasagna noodles on top (trim some noodles to fit with a serrated knife if you need) followed by a layer of béchamel (about 1/2 cup), half of the squash, half of the mushrooms, then half of the cheese mixture. Repeat with another layer of lasagna noodles, béchamel, squash, mushrooms and cheese. Top with a third layer of noodles on top then spread the remaining béchamel sauce across the noodles. Seal tightly with foil and bake, covered, for 15 minutes. Uncover, lower the temperature to 425°F, top with the remaining ¾ cup parm and bake until bubbly and golden, 15 minutes. Let rest for 10 minutes, then cut into pieces. 

You can also find her hosting The Times of Israel podcast Daily Briefing twice a week. Give it a listen.

I also had a bit of a pie blind spot until my sister and I started baking them in 2008. Our mother, Steffi, and grandmother, Ann, had both died of ovarian cancer in recent years, and we were looking for a joyous and philanthropic way to commemorate our matriarchs—and help women who were living with the same diagnosis.

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First, Nok Suntaranon and Kalaya’s Southern Thai Kitchen Cookbook. 

I’m not going to lie, I’ve been way down in the cooking dumps lately. Mini-reveal: I’ve been working on a giant new project (hint: it’s got close to 100 recipes and has a hard cover) and in spite of the turmoil around me, there have been full months where the inspiration has flowed surprisingly freely, like fresh rainwater downstream.

Spices, flavors, seasonal produce, and local cultural influences meet in my mind in beautiful ways that effortlessly translate into food that has taste, spirit, and meaning. In the midst of what has undoubtedly been the hardest year I ever experienced, I am grateful for those times, for those hours when I escape into the kitchen, not scanning the news, not absorbing tragedy, not running into our safe room or thinking about hostages, armies (so many people here are soldiers, know soldiers, or are related to soldiers), terrorist organizations, or innocent children across the border powerless amid forces far greater than them.

But then there are months like this one, ones where everything tastes the same in my mind, in the skillet, and on the plate. 

Then, a couple of months ago, I got a message from Nok Suntaranon, the owner of the amazing Kalaya restaurant in Philadelphia. I don’t know Nok well, though I feel like I do. Last September she came with a group of friends to the dinner Mike Solomonov threw at Zahav to celebrate the release of my Shabbat Cookbook. She was warm, charismatic, and complimentary (what’s not to like?). 

A few months later she was named Best Midatlantic Chef by the James Beard Foundation. And then she reached out to say a close friend was coming to Israel. She could send an early copy of her cookbook, Kalaya’s Southern Thai Kitchen, and did I want a copy? 

Did I want a copy. Ha. 

If you’ve seen photos or videos or my apartment, I always want a copy. I’ve been reading cookbooks like novels since I was a teenager, and the delicate calculus of how much room I can make for new additions is a weekly consideration (when I moved to Israel, I donated hundreds of cookbooks to the New York Public Library). But this was one I couldn’t refuse, and I am so glad I didn’t. 

I am often asked about what makes a great cookbook, and at the beginning of my own journey I wasn’t quite sure how to answer. But nearly 15 years and 17 books later, I think I know. A good cookbook is a novel. There’s a premise to be explored. A plot. A real story arc. Drama. Suspense. And a sense of resolution. The best books–and cookbooks–have all of these elements, and Nok’s book delivers. It begins with the story of her childhood in Southern Thailand, a proud and modest childhood with an incredible mother–Kalaya–who with little means produced magnificent food every day, eventually opening a popular curry paste stall where  young Nok, at age 4, began assisting mother. Spices and cooking were her life from childhood, and even though she eventually became a successful flight attendant, at the same time she was running a popular Italian restaurant in Bangkok. Eventually she fell in love, moved to Philadelphia, attended culinary school, and opened Kalaya in 2019, dedicating the restaurant to her mother. The restaurant was an out-of-the-gate success, though as we know, instant success is years in the making. In the book Nok writes about how it took her years to figure out how to adjust her recipes to what was available in the United States without compromising. And so she did. 

Reading about her upbringing in a lesser-known province in Southern Thailand–the markets, the aromas, memories, and foods that shaped her identity–I felt my taste buds revived, my keyboard beckoning, my skillets calling me back behind the hob. Nok’s story literally willed me backinto the kitchen, where I made her alluring red curry paste, fragrant with galangal and lemongrass and a building block of her kitchen the way schug or harissa are fundamentals of mine.

I related to her process, and the way that curry paste can hang out in the fridge, waiting to be used in dishes like this Gaeng Pajari, a dish of seared tofu with pineapple coconut curry. 

Thank you, Nok, to you and your book and your beloved Kalaya, for bringing me and my kitchen back to life. (Note: Cookbook is not kosher. Adapt to your liking! The recipe I include here is kosher).

Gaeng Pajari (Seared Tofu &  Pineapple Coconut Curry)

This is a surprising recipe. The pineapple, braised in the rich coconut curry, becomes almost as meaty as the crispy tofu you add in later.

4 tablespoons canola oil

1 tablespoon paprika

½ cup Red Curry Paste (recipe follows)

1 tablespoon white miso

3 1/2 cups canned coconut milk

½ ripe pineapple, peeled (but not cored) and cut into 6 thick rounds

1 cinnamon stick

1 star anise pod

a (1-pound) package extra-firm tofu

1 tablespoon soy sauce

3 red long hot chilies. halved lengthwise, seeded, and cut into 2-inch pieces

4 or 5 makrut lime leaves, torn

In a wide, deep skillet or pot, heat 2 tablespoons of the oil over medium heat. Add the paprika and stir until it is fragrant; then add the curry paste and miso. Cook, stirring, until you can really smell the spices in the curry paste. Then stir in 1 cup of the coconut milk, the cinnamon stick and the star anise pod and increase the heat to high.

When the sauce begins to bubble, add the pineapple slices, arranging them in a single layer (it's fine if they overlap a little), then pour 2 cups of the coconut milk over top. This should fully submerge the pineapple slices; if it doesn't, pour in just enough water to submerge them (you shouldn't need much more than ½ cup). Reduce the heat to low and simmer until the pineapple cores are fork-tender and the oil has separated on the top of the sauce, 45 minutes to 1 hour, flipping the pineapple once halfway through.

When the pineapple has about 20 minutes left to cook, cut the tofu into 12 equal pieces (I like cubes, but you can do anything you want). Pat all the pieces dry with paper towels.

In large nonstick skillet, heat the remaining 2 tablespoons oil over high heat until just starting to smoke. Add the tofu in a single layer, reduce the heat to medium, and sear the tofu until it is golden brown on every side, about 10 minutes total. Put the seared tofu on a plate.

When the pineapple is finished cooking, add the soy sauce and tofu and stir gently to combine.

Add the chilies and cook for a minute or two, until they soften a bit. Then add the lime leaves and cook for 1 or 2 more minutes, until fragrant. Finish with the remaining ¼ cup coconut milk, stirring it gently into the sauce.

Transfer the pineapple slices to a platter, top them with the tofu, and pour the sauce over top. Serve with jasmine rice. 

Gaeng Dang (Red curry paste)

Makes 3 cups

This curry paste is milder than I imagined, perfect for many red curries. It lasts for a long time in the fridge and is great as the base for the pineapple tofu curry.

½ cup sweet paprika

½ cup red chili flakes

½ cup packed minced fresh lemongrass, tender white parts only (about 3 stalks)

10 large garlic cloves, roughly chopped (about ½ cup)

3 large shallots, sliced (about 2/3 cup)

3 tablespoons finely chopped peeled galangal, fresh or thawed if frozen

5 makrut lime leaves, thinly sliced (1 packed tablespoon)

1½ cups roughly chopped fresh cilantro roots and/or stems

3 tablespoons freshly ground black pepper

1 tablespoon ground white pepper

1½ to 2 tablespoons kosher salt

1½ cups water

In a blender or food processor, combine the paprika, chili flakes, lemongrass, garlic, shallots, galangal, lime leaves, cilantro roots, black pepper, white pepper, salt, and water, and stir to distribute everything evenly, then process until smooth. You can store it in the fridge for up to 1 week, then freeze any leftover paste in a zip-top bag or other airtight container for up to 3 months.

Pass the Plate by Carolina Gelen

Last month saw the release of ’s cookbook, Pass The Plate, and I was so thrilled to receive a copy (Thank you, Carolina!). If you haven’t heard of Carolina, then you probably haven’t been on Instagram much since the pandemic broke out because Carolina broke out, too. Her videos–like an upside-down orange semolina cake, or butter beans a la vodka-- began going viral, amassing millions of followers on social media. 

Born of modest means in post-Communist Transylvania–yes, it’s real place, part of Romania!–she learned English by watching food television and studied computers, but the autodidact in her drove her to become highly skilled in both cooking and filming/editing at just the right time. She writes that she recorded her first videos in her tiny living room, often with her mother holding props or light deflectors. I think one of the reasons her content is so popular is because she has an aw-shucks quality to her, a quietness amidst all of the noise of the internet, that actually makes her stand out. She’s a talented, funny, wise-beyond-her-years cook whose recipes are exciting, not intimidating. She’s someone you’re genuinely happy to be happy for!

She managed to find her way to the United States in 2021 and lives in Utah, where she is maddeningly prolific. While posting practically a recipe a day she also managed to write Pass The Plate, which became a New York Times best seller upon its release. It’s filled with smart, easy recipes like the one for chickpea paprikash she shares with you here. For those of you who keep kosher and wanted to try paprikash–a creamy, paprika-laced Hungarian stew usually made with meat–this is your chance. 

Paprikash-Inspired Chickpea Stew with Dumplings

Serves 4 to 6 

Prep Time: 25 minutes 

Cook Time: 55 minutes 

Total Time: 1 hour 20 minutes

Crispy Chickpea Topping:

2 (15-ounce) cans chickpeas, drained and rinsed

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil or sunflower oil

2 teaspoons sweet paprika

Kosher salt

Creamy Chickpea Paprikash:

¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil or aunflower oil  

I medium yellow onion, finely chopped

2 large red bell peppers, finely chopped

Kosher salt

5 garlic cloves, finely chopped or grated

3 tablespoons sweet paprika

1 heaping tablespoon tomato paste

½ teaspoon cayenne pepper, plus more to faste

2 (15-ounce) cans chickpeas, drained and rinsed

1½ cups heavy cream or 1 (14-ounce) can full-fat coconut milk

1 tablespoon cornstarch

Make the crispy chickpea topping: 

Preheat the oven to 425°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Add the chickpeas to the baking sheet and roll a kitchen or paper towel over them to remove excess moisture. Drizzle the olive oil on top and add the paprika and a pinch of salt. Toss to coat.

Roast until the chickpeas are crunchy and golden, about 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, make the creamy chickpea paprikash:

In a large Dutch oven or saucepan, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring frequently, until softened and golden, 8 to 9 minutes. Add the bell peppers and a pinch of salt and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 10 minutes. Add the garlic, paprika, tomato paste, and cayenne and cook, stirring constantly, until the tomato paste has darkened and the spices and garlic are fragrant, about 2 minutes.

Add the chickpeas and toss to coat in the spices, adding a splash of water and stirring to break up the browned bits at the bottom of the pan. Cook to let the chickpeas warm through and absorb some of the flavors, about 3 minutes. Stir in the cream, a hefty pinch of salt, and 1½ cups water and bring to a simmer. Reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer, stirring occasionally, until the chickpeas are soft and flavorful, 25 to 30 minutes.

In a small bowl, whisk the cornstarch with 2 tablespoons water. Add the cornstarch slurry to the soup and continue simmering, stirring constantly, until thickened, 4 to 5 minutes. Crush some of the chickpeas against the side of the pot with the back of and cover to keep warm. the spoon. Remove the pan from the heat and cover to keep warm.

Kimchi Shakshuka

Reading these two great cookbooks which both talk about using what you have on hand and being economical with ingredients—that it doesn’t have to be fancy to be fantastic—really inspired me. I came up with this as a way to use up leftover kimchi, and it works so, so well. In recent years shakshuka–a Tunisian breakfast dish of tomatoey sauce and runny eggs–has lent itself to any number of adaptations. The funky tang of kimchi works well, bringing acidity to the sauce. If you don’t have kimchi, chopped Moroccan-style pickles (there’s a recipe in Sababa) would also work really nicely here! 

¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

1 medium onion, finely diced

1 large red bell pepper, seeded and chopped

1 large yellow or orange bell pepper, seeded and chopped

3 large garlic cloves, thinly sliced

1 teaspoon gochugaru or other mild hot chili flakes

2 1/2 pounds very ripe fresh tomatoes, chopped (6 cups) shakshuka

1/2 cup kimchi, chopped

2 tablespoons gochujuang

6 eggs

Sliced scallion greens, for garnish

Pita or other bread, for serving

Set a rack in the top third of the oven. Heat the olive oil in a large oven-safe skillet over medium-high heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring, until the onion is lightly golden and softened but not too dark, 8 to 9 minutes. Add the garlic and bell peppers and until the peppers soften, 5 minutes. Add the tomatoes, kimchi, gochujuang, and gochujaru. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to a simmer and cook until the sauce has darkened and thickened slightly, 20 to 25 minutes; season with additional salt and black pepper to taste.

Preheat the broiler during the last 5 minutes of cooking. Use a spoon to form 6 wells in the sauce, crack an egg into each well and cook for 3 minutes. Transfer the shakshuka to the oven and broil until the top of the sauce is slightly caramelized and the whites of the eggs are just opaque but the yolks are still runny, 2 to 3 minutes. Remove from the oven (use an oven mitt since the handle will be hot), top with fresh gochugaru, garnish with scallions, and serve immediately, or cool to room temperature and serve, sandwich-style, stuffed into pitas or piled on top of bread.

For example there’s the Golden Onion & Chickpea dip from Sababa, a recipe hill I am perched high atop, waiting for all you cooks to notice. Sweet, thyme-infused onions and tender chickpeas are blitzed into a creamy dip and topped with fava beans. It’s a dish inspired by a dip I found on a prosaic supermarket shelf when I first moved to Tel Aviv, and I made quick work of recreating it. So why didn’t it “succeed?” Four years later I am willing to admit it was the favas on top: hyper-seasonal, hard-to-find, and labor-intensive to prepare, with their blanching, shocking, and double-peeling.

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The show was alre…

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So many delicious meals and time spent with loved ones. Moments of real joy, followed by tinges of guilt for allowing myself to let go for a minute, an hour, an afternoon. I felt everyone lingered just a bit longer at the table, cleaving to the beauty of community and family and few hours’ escape from the inevitable anniversary that was mere days away. 

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Rosh Hashanah is here, beginning Wednesday night. And unlike previous Septembers of menu planning and book launches,this year I must confess to an oversized helping of ambivalence about celebrating this typically happy, honey-dipped holiday. 

A year ago at this time I was traveling around the United States and Canada, introducing the Shabbat cookbook to a growing community and celebrating vibrant food culture that has coalesced around the Jewish Sabbath over thousands of years. It was a joyous and, looking back, simple time. 

This year, there is a lot to feel bittersweet about. 

101 hostages remain in Gaza, people are suffering throughout this region, and the political stakes seem to get higher every week with the escalation of regional conflict. The uncertainty, fear, and heartbreak remain, and yet every day I see reasons for hope as I mimic the resilience of those who have it far worse than I do. I have met many members of hostage families, and their strength and ability to fight on when all hope may seem lost shows me the meaning of grit and bravery. I have watched as they make sure their loved ones aren’t forgotten, and battle for their return. Their fight informs my necessity for hope when it sometimes feels easier to double down on cynicism. 

This year on Wednesday night I am going to light an extra candle for the hostages, and I encourage you to do the same. I am going to prepare foods that reinforce all of the things I love about being Jewish, the traditions passed down to me by my family and the new ones I am creating in my adopted home. 

I am making brisket–I haven’t decided between the two recipes in my Shabbat cookbook, one braised in fig and pomegranate, the other a more traditional brown sugar/tomato flavor profile. There will be my mother’s vegetable kugel, and her apple kuchen (many of these recipes can be found over at my Website), a sort of drop-biscuity cake that’s a distant cousin of the famous Marian Burros plum cake from the New York Times. 

I even found the time to create a new recipe, one I road-tested today to very good reviews. Jay’s son, Nadav, and our friend Karen have been sleeping over to be close to a safe room when the next missile finds its way into our airspace. So I made this chicken today, and Jay and Nadav loved it. The vegetables, dried fruit and orange juice and zest mimic the flavors of a traditional tzimmes, a dish often served on Rosh Hashanah. When roasted, the spice-rubbed, spatchcocked chicken lends its schmaltzy goodness to the proceedings, adding rich flavor and additional moisture to the veggies. A thinly sliced lemon and its zest add, well, Israeliness. As my husband, Jay, always says: “Limon mosif hamon” (“Lemon adds a lot”). Here’s to a happier year, to one with a glimmer of hope. I’m here to remind you that you’re allowed. 

Spatchcocked Sheet-Pan “Tzimmes” Chicken

Serves 4 to 6

Active time: 15 minutes

Total time: 1 hour 10 minutes

1 small lemon

1 ½ pounds carrots, peeled and very thinly sliced into long batons

1 red onion, thinly sliced

½ cup golden raisins

10 pitted prunes

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 ½ teaspoons kosher salt

Juice and zest of 1 small orange (1 tablespoon zest, ½ cup juice)

¼ cup chopped parsley, plus more for garnish

3 tablespoons honey

4 cloves garlic, minced

1 teaspoon sweet paprika

½ teaspoon smoked paprika

¼ teaspoon cayenne

One 4-pound chicken, spatchcocked*

Freshly ground black pepper to taste

Preheat the oven to 400°F. Zest the lemon into a bowl and reserve. Slice the lemon into the thinnest rounds you can (a sharp knife helps with this). Arrange the lemon slices, carrots, onions, raisins, prunes and orange zest on a large rimmed baking sheet. Drizzle with the olive oil, sprinkle with  ½ teaspoon salt and toss to coat; spread evenly over the sheet pan and add the orange juice to the sheet pan.

Drizzle 2 tablespoons of the honey evenly across the sheet. Place the garlic and remaining 1 teaspoon of salt on a cutting board and use pressure applied to the heel of a chef’s knife to smash and spread the garlic and salt into a paste. Scrape into the bowl with the reserved lemon zest and add the sweet and smoked paprikas and cayenne. Stir until combined.

Rub the spice paste all over the chicken and set, it breast side up, on top of the vegetables, Roast until the vegetables are caramelized, the legs can be easily jiggled on the chicken, and the juices run clear when the breast meat is pierced with a wooden skewer, 55 to 60 minutes. Drizzle the chicken with the remaining tablespoon honey, cut into pieces, and garnish with more parsley. Season with salt and pepper to taste. 

*To spatchcock a chicken: Arrange a whole chicken breast side down on a cutting board. Use kitchen shears to cut out the backbone, then flip flip the chicken over and press down on the breast to flatten. 

I’m rubbing my eyes a bit more than usual this morning. Last night, after …

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Pneumonia felled me last week. Like, in a WOW! HOW DARE YOU? DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? sort of way I never could have imagined.  I am one of those I-never-get-sick types; I can distinctly remember my eight-year-old self rubbing the mercury thermometer between my hands to artificially elevate my temperature in the hopes I could hoodwink my parents into letting me stay home sick for once, like all the other kids occasionally did. I knew the odds were slim because my sister, Sharon, was already in the seventh grade and had never missed a day. My mother took one look at my freakish 107-plus temperature, burst out laughing, and handed me my lunchbox. 

So when, last Friday, teeth chattering, I turned off all the air conditioners in the house and slept on the outdoor furniture in the 90-degree weather for a few hours, I knew something was seriously amiss. Eventually there were doctors, chest X-Rays, a diagnosis, and a prescription for knockout-strength penicillin. 

And rest. Lots and lots of rest. 

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As we joined the line we were greeted by a volunteer who patiently (and, likely, for the hundredth time) explained to us that the wait would be nearly two hours, and that we could choose to sit inside instead (but forgo the opportunity to sit face-to-face with the Goldberg Polins). 

We also received the first of a dozen thank-you’s we would field in the few hours we were there, a reflection of the invisible mist of decency and gratitude that surrounded a family who would be forgiven for projecting the complete opposite. We chose to wait, and were offered cold coffee by an old friend of Jay’s who was volunteering, one of dozens of yellow-vested good souls who, I must confess, I envied for their ability to channel their sadness into busy-making tasks.

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Mike Solomonov and Steve Cook have a new cookbook, ZAHAV HOME, dropping on Tuesday, and she’s a beaut.

You may know Mike and Steve as the team behind their flagship Israeli restaurant, Zahav, in Philadelphia, along with Goldie (felafel), Laser Wolf (grill/shipudia), Dizengoff (Hummus), and Kfar (bakery/ cafe)–some of which also have locations in New York (and, soon, Miami). Their previous two award-winning cookbooks featured the foods of Zahav Restaurant and the the people in Israel who inspired Mike’s culinary journey. 

Their new book, Zahav Home, was born of COVID-19, where for months on end Mike and Steve worked from home and cooked for their respective families. These two started out as line cooks, one after the other, at a Philly restaurant, then reconnected and the rest is history.

This nearly two-decade legacy of partnership and friendship shows in everything they do, including the book. The food is relaxed but completely true to who they are, with unbuttoned techniques that are technically sound but lickety-split simple. There are lots of roasts and ribs, as well as many salads and dips that would be as at home on one of their restaurant tables as they will be on your home table.

Down below I’m sharing a recipe for butternut squash baba ganoush from the book, Brilliantly simple, it is crowned with pomegranate seeds, which will make it a high-holiday hero as much as a weeknight staple.  

Butternut Squash Baba Ganoush with Pomegranate Seeds & Pepitas

Serves 4

Baba ganoush is traditionally made with eggplant, but the combination of roasted vegetable and creamy tehina is too good to dedicate to just one produce item. At Laser Wolf, Mike and Steve use grilled kale for an irresistibly smoky version. Here, they  use the ubiquitous-for-good-reason butternut squash, but this is a perfect opportunity to experiment with the fun squash varieties that show up in the market this time of year (kabocha, honeynut, crookneck, Blue Hubbard—just save spaghetti squash and other stringy varieties for another dish!). The addition of pomegranate and toasted pumpkin seeds make this dip a fall fantasy.

2 pounds butternut squash

¼ cup olive oil

1 teaspoon salt

1 cup Basic Tehina Sauce (recipe below)

1 pomegranate, seeded

½ cup pepitas, toasted in a dry skillet

Preheat the oven to 425 F/210 C

Cut the squash in half lengthwise and remove the seeds.

With the tip of a sharp knife, score the insides of the squash in a crosshatch pattern, then slather the cut sides generously with the oil and season with the salt.

Roast, cut side up, until very tender, about 90 minutes. You may notice the flesh separating from the skin. When cool to the touch, scoop out the flesh and transfer to a large bowl. You’ll need about 2 cups squash; save any leftover squash for another recipe. Stir in the Basic Tehina Sauce (recipe below) until it’s nice and creamy and evenly mixed.

Scatter the pomegranate seeds and pepitas on top. Serve with pita or your favorite cracker.

Basic Tehina Sauce

5 garlic cloves

5 tablespoons lemon juice (from 1½ lemons)

¾ teaspoon salt

1 cup tehina

¼ teaspoon ground cumin

About ¾ cup very cold water

In a food processor or high-powered blender, puree the garlic, lemon juice, and ½ teaspoon of the salt. Blend until you have a coarse puree. Let the mixture stand for 5 to 10 minutes to let the garlic mellow.

Pour the mixture through a fine-meshed strainer set over a large mixing bowl, pressing on the solids to extract as much liquid as possible. Discard the solids.

Stir in the tehina and the remaining ¼ teaspoon of salt.

Whisk everything together until smooth, adding water a few tablespoons at a time.

Continue adding water until you have a thick yet creamy sauce.

Tehina will keep in the refrigerator for up to a week or frozen for up to a month.

It is raining in Tel Aviv this morning–virtually unheard of for this time of year, the first day of school.  The skies are gray, and the outdoor deck is glossy with tears from the sky. There is no other way to see this meteorological aberration right now. Like everything else, the world feels upside down. 

Just yesterday a close group of friends, many connected to Rachel, Jon, and Hersh in one way or another, and our families gathered at our home in Tel Aviv to reunite after summers away. There were hugs and sangria and lots and lots of food. It’s been so, so hard to access joy these past 11 months, and I had relished the chance to cook and feed friends and their children and hear stories of lake visits and Broadway shows and even hard news about aging parents and return-flight drama. 

I skipped my morning Shabbat swim in favor of the quiet meditation of my kitchen, the squeezing of lemons and the shaking of dressings and chopping of herbs. Selecting a tablecloth and bringing up the extra folding chairs and wine glasses from downstairs. Normal things that normal people do. A group of 10 precious teenagers clustered around their own table just being themselves, catching up after the summer.  

For a few hours we hugged and ate and drank, and of course the political situation here and the hostages came up more than once. Little did we know that a few hours later we would wake up to the news we had all been dreading. The rumors began swirling last night, and tragically--as they often have been–the brutal, visceral honesty of Telegram turned out to be lethally accurate. Six souls lost, unnecessarily, maddeningly. You want to scream into the void of powerlessness and grief. 

And then you think about Jon Polin and Rachel Goldberg Polin. Rachel, 23-year-old Hersh’s mother. Ever since they found out from CNN’s Anderson Cooper that Hersh was spotted on a video, injured but alive, appearing to have tourniqueted his own arm and saved his own life, they have been a very visual (and, for English speakers, relatable) symbol of this situation.  Rachel specifically has been the mother of a nation, the mother of a world unto itself these past 11 months. 

Amidst all the fear, hatred, anger, confusion, moral ambiguity, political cynicism, and desperation one person broke through the noise more than anyone else. And that person was Rachel. Ima. Mother of Mothers. She showed fear and dread but also hope and vulnerability. Realness. Mama Bear on highest of gears. What any mother would do for her son, Rachel has done in ways that none of us can even fathom. How does she do it? We all wondered. I worry and wonder what and how she will do whatever she has to do to survive this. There were days when her strength, her determination, her dignity—they felt like all that any of us had. Just this past Wednesday she drove with a convoy of hostage families down to the border and screamed Hersh’s name into a high-powered microphone that reverberated into Gaza. We can only hope he heard his mother’s voice.

Rachel and I are not close friends, which makes it even more remarkable that every single time I have texted her over the past 11 months to send a word of hope, encouragement, or just a “thinking about you” message she wrote back, usually within minutes. The last time was after I saw her remarkable speech at the Democratic National Convention. After breaking down briefly, she collected that perfect posture we’ve all noticed and, along with sweet Jon, reminded us why they were there. 

Rachel is a woman of faith, with more in her pinky finger than most of us contain within our entire spiritual and corporeal beings. Every time she wrote me back, her answer contained some version of the same message: “Keep Praying.” 

We are just learning that four of the six hostages—Hersh, Carmel Gat, Eden Yerushalmi, and Almog Seroussi—had been on a list of hostages that would have been released in a scuttled deal with Hamas that was rejected July 2nd. Like sand slipping through our fingers, these lives flying away in the desert wind. The powerlessness and rage I feel are causing the blood to rise to my cheeks. 

Today I pray only for forgiveness, Hersh, that we couldn’t save you, when you did so much to save yourself. For now we hope that your parents, siblings, grandparents, family and friends can take comfort in the light and hope you brought us this past year.  

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I’ll share the story of a collaboration I loved and learned from, and that inspired me. 

If you’ve been in my orbit for a while, you’ve seen fizzy, sparkling seltzer drinks known as Gazoz on my feed. They’re made by Benny Briga, a magical, mystical, human being who lives in Tel Aviv and about 10 years ago opened a tiny shop in the city’s Florentine Market and started creating those gorgeous drinks. 

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