One Jewish holiday that was never really celebrated in my home when I was growing up is Shavuot, which in 2020 was observed at the end of May.
It celebrates a seminal event for the Jewish people—the giving of the Ten Commandments on Mount Sinai and of the Torah, our most sacred text. But perhaps because there was no big family feast, no particular songs and no gifts or games associated with it—at least in our household—it didn’t hold a lot of appeal for parents like mine who were trying to interest their kids in their religious heritage.
But this year, as an adult in quarantine hungry for connection, whether through family, friends, faith or food, I learned that it’s customary to read The Book of Ruth on this holiday—a meaningful tie for me as I’m named for this biblical heroine who so loved her mother-in-law Naomi that even after her husband, Naomi’s son, died, Ruth clung to her, adopted her religion, left her home, married one of Naomi’s kinsmen, and became the great grandmother of the famed King David.
In her preface to the beautiful edition I have, Mary Ellen Chase wrote that the simple story had a profound moral message, “that human love is able to bridge the shallow differences of nationality and that true religion is a matter of heart and not of race”—truly a message that speaks to our time too.
It’s the custom on Shavuot to eat dairy foods. In The Jewish Holiday Kitchen, writer Joan Nathan explains the dairy connection as one based in nature: “Churning and cheesemaking are common features of spring harvest festivals the world over, when goats, sheep, and cows begin to graze more and thus produce more milk.” Also, she points out, the Torah, central to this holiday, is compared to milk and honey in the Song of Songs.
Among the most popular dairy dishes associated with the holiday is cheesecake, which my mother often made. Hers was a molded marvel of creamy perfection usually marred by a slight crack down the middle that she covered with berries. I have no memory of another traditional dairy dish, blintzes, showing up on our table, though I’m fairly sure they did, probably topped with a dollop of sour cream and jam.
When I decided to try my hand at making blintzes, I picked through a shelf full of Jewish cookbooks, including Nathan’s Holiday Kitchen; a spiral-bound collection with a red cover titled “Blast Off With Blintzes,” dating from 1969; and my sentimental favorite, The Art of Jewish Cooking by Jennie Grossinger, the first Jewish cookbook I ever purchased. Recipes in this book were for dishes served at the famed Grossinger’s Catskill Resort Hotel that inspired the film Dirty Dancing and closed in 1986.
I went with the Grossinger’s recipe, which is also in the Nathan cookbook. The pages are yellowed and the directions are not very detailed, meaning you might actually have to figure it out for yourself—or consult another recipe!
One thing that wasn’t clear at first (at least to me!) was that you only fry one side of the pancake before filling it, fried side in. The pancakes are rolled over the filling—with pale side out, tucking top and bottom ends in first, then rolling sideways—to be fried again (or baked) later. If you make a mistake and leave the fried side out, as I did, your pancakes may look rather well done. If you don’t tuck well, the filling may spill out. However, as I discovered while eating my mistakes, the results will still be delicious—which is the point!
As for fillings, Grossinger offered five varieties: apple, vegetable, meat, cheese and blueberry. The meat and vegetable didn’t hold much appeal, but I tried the last two, with mixed results. The blueberries—a large organic variety—tore the delicate crepe-like pancake apart, while the cheese turned out well, though my shaping skills will take more practice. Next time I’ll try smaller blueberries—or a different filling altogether. Here are the two filling recipes:
Of course, there are many more modern blintz recipes and ones that offer lessons on technique that I probably should have checked out before making mine. One that looks delicious and includes detailed directions is from Tori Avey. It uses a mixture of ricotta and cream cheese in the filling, plus vanilla and an optional strawberry topping. She also suggests a food processor, blender or mixer to cut down on the manual labor.
But in this moment when I have extra time on my hands, I’m channeling earlier eras—even biblical ones—choosing to take the long road rather than a shortcut. The small details of cooking are a welcome distraction from the much larger issues that make me feel alternately helpless and overwhelmed with despair. I even opted to make my own farmer’s cheese instead of taking a special trip to a Jewish market in search of this ingredient. (Click here for the farmer’s cheese recipe.) It’s easier than you’d imagine—a matter of boiling milk, adding a curdling agent (white vinegar), and straining through a cheesecloth. It came out well, although I would cut the salt in half.
I used a little of the cheese on some bread I made with cranberries, pecans and golden raisins. Making bread is another satisfying distraction. It’s also delicious and seems to make everyone happy—at least momentarily! I think even the biblical Ruth would approve.
Thanks for reading and listening to Ruth Talks Food. If you enjoyed this edition, please subscribe and share it with a friend. Comments are also most welcome! See you in the kitchen!
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Note:
This post was written about six weeks after I had launched this blog. We were in the midst of the Covid pandemic, with no vaccine in sight. I originally conceived this as a podcast as well as a newsletter, but the logistics of recording and sharing a podcast proved too hard for me at the time. Undoubtedly it would be easier now. In any case, you can check out my early attempt (above). You can also read later stories with dairy recipes attached including this one about being called Ruth (with a kugel recipe) and this one about making a cheesecake in an Instant Pot.