Passover Puffs

Buddha blessing the Passover Puffs

My friend Rae Gouriand suggested I do a "Soup Sunday" regular post, which I think is a fabulous idea! And I will make soup today, the "Spring Minestrone" from the April issue of Bon Appetit, and I'll probably modify it with tarragon I have leftover from a dinner party I threw on Thursday (Sauteed Chicken with herbed Tarragon-Mustard Butter, yum) and leftover peas from that dinner as well.

I'll probably add some fennel bulb, because I love fennel and it will go well with the tarragon. I may leave the parmesan out, but I'll try a dab of "umami paste" that I just picked up at the store because it looked intriguing. Instead of pasta, I may throw in the leftover quinoa instead.

So, there you have it: my process in a nutshell. Take a form, study it, and transform it to your liking. 

But right now, I want to share with you Passover Puffs (which will go well with the soup), because Passover Puffs are amazing. I make them only once a year, at Passover of course. They are little pillows of goodness. They are eggy, and slightly sweet, and full of air. They are a testament to working within restraint (no leavening) and so creating something miraculous.

They are also thoroughly addictive. I just gobbled two of them in the time it took to write that paragraph (hey, it was research!) So consider yourself warned.

Passover Puffs

Preheat oven to 375.

Boil 1 1/2 cups water, then add 1/4 cup light vegetable oil (I used grapeseed),  2 Tblsp Sugar, and 1 tsp salt. Remove from heat.

Mix in 1 1/2 cups Matzo Meal and 1 tsp cinnamon. Whisk it all quickly together, and watch it turn into a soggy mess. Turn this all into a large mixing bowl and let cool for about five minutes.

Beat in four eggs, one at a time. You may think the mixture is too thick for beating, but have faith. Faith is what Passover is all about.

Once the mixture is thoroughly combined, scoop large glops onto a greased cookie sheet. I know that "glop" is not a standard measurement, but have some fun with it. You can make large glops or small glops, or medium glops. You can make 9 large ones, or 18 small ones, or something in-between.

Flatten the glops slightly with the back of a greased spoon, then sprinkle on more cinnamon to your liking.

Bake in your preheated oven for 30-40 minutes. The smell will start to penetrate your senses after about 10 minutes. At this point it will be impossible to do anything else but stand in front of the stove salivating, so plan on taking a quick walk with the dog, or vacuum your bedroom, or wander around the perimeter of your house thinking about spring plantings.

When the Passover Puffs are golden brown and sufficiently puffed, take them out of the oven and let cool for five minutes. Resist the urge to stuff one in your mouth right away; trust me, they really do taste better when they've cooled a little bit.

At this point, it would be wise to give them away. 

Good Pesach everyone, and Happy Easter. May your spring be full of joy.

What Holds You Back? A Passover Reflection

Tonight begins the first night of Passover. When I was a kid, Passover meant squirming in my chair while we waited through the boring prayers. It meant fingerprinting the ten plagues with Manishevitz on our dinner plates and shouting in glee: "Frogs!" "Vermin" "Rivers of Blood!" It meant opening the door for the angel Elijah to come in. Passover is supposed to remind us of suffering—the Jews' enslavement, the hard-hearted pharoah, the flight into the desert, the wandering in deprivation toward the promised land—and so the seder often lasts a LONG time.

The Seder plate holds all that suffering as symbols: the lamb bone, to remind us of sacrifice; the parsley to remind us of bitterness; the salt water to remind us of tears; the haroset, to remind us of slavery; the matzo to remind us of hardship; and the egg...well I'm not sure what the egg represents—rebirth? A nod to Easter?

I usually try to hold a seder at my house, though this year it didn't work out. So I'll show you a picture of my seder plate from last year instead:

Note the rawhide chew toy standing in for the lamb shank!

While my child self remembers Passover about suffering, my adult self has chosen to focus more on liberation. Passover comes at the beginning of spring, a good time to reflect on what enslaves us and what sets us free.

Five Things That Hold Me Back

1. My wrists. When I'm doing yoga, I can feel strong and confident and in the flow. But the first thing to give out is my wrists. They begin to ache and whimper, and I yell at them to be quiet. They seem so small, so insignificant: shouldn't it be my hamstrings or my hips that hold me back? (Well they do, too, but for some reason I don't get as mad at them as I do my wrists....) I never remember my wrists until I begin to abuse them. I never take care of them. And though they seem so small, they really can determine everything.

2. Sugar. Sugar is so small, and yet so large. Sugar is never satisfied. Sugar wants to undermine all good intention. Sugar seduces. Sugar says you're hungry. Sugar says you're mine.

3. Television. I love television. There. I've said it. I love the way it keeps me enthralled. I love the stories, the way they unfold week after week. I love the company. But television says, you never have to leave the house again. Television says, I demand nothing of you. Television says, don't move.

4. Self-Doubt.  Need I say more?

5. The Hard-Hearted Pharoah of Perfection. This unkind dictator has been with me a long time—so long, in fact, that we're quite good buddies now. We're actually in danger of merging into one being. This Pharoah cracks the whip. This Pharoah demands more and more, is never satisfied even with a good job. It all has to be perfect.

Moses demanded "Let My People Go!" and the Pharoah refused each time. Finally, Moses took it upon himself to lead the Jews out of Egypt, with some help from God along the way; you know, like that little favor called the parting of the red sea (watch this clip and hear the greatest line of all time: "God opens the sea with a blast of his nostrils....")

What holds you back? And how can you free yourself from it? What kind of miracles can you muster? 

Wishing you a good Pesach and the thrill of liberation.

The Yoga of Hot Tubs--Part II

Here she is! My brand new hot tub. A little bit of ahhhhhh in my own backyard.

As some of you know from my previous post about this endeavor, it's been quite the undertaking. The electrician had to do his thing, and the handyman had to dig some trenches, and the fence guys showed up at an ungodly hour, and then the hot tub guys showed up on Tuesday just as I was leaving for the airport.

So all week, as I did my gig in North Dakota, I was thinking about the hot tub. Thinking about the way it fit so neatly on that patio, as it if had been destined to live there all along. Fantasizing about how my life might be different now that this thing had shown up.

I got home late last night. The hot tub guy had it all ready for me to go, but I was tired and strangely afraid to go out there and see  it. Not quite ready for my fantasy to meet reality.

So, this morning, in the rain, I scurried out in my bathrobe, slipped off the cover, and sunk down into the hot water. And there it was. There was ahhhhhh. Just waiting for me. It had all been worth it

The rest of the day felt pretty ahhhhh-like as well. I walked the dog, and went to yoga. Though the yoga class was not my favorite, during shivasana I felt a thrumming peace that has eluded me a long time. At the end, the woman next to me said I had a beautiful voice, a statement that startled me: my voice? And I wondered if something about starting the day in my pool of ahhhhh had somehow knocked free some loveliness deep inside.

I came home and made soup for the crew of Bellingham Review editors who were meeting at my house. It was a soup full of ahhhhh, perfect for a silver day.

Carrot Ginger Coconut Soup

(adapted from The Whole Foods Cookbook)

Melt a Tblsp of coconut oil in a large pot. Chop up a medium onion and toss it in to sizzle for about five minutes. Add 3-4 cloves chopped garlic, and a grated knob (about two inches or more) of fresh ginger. Let them all mingle for another minute or so.

Add 1/2 tsp. cumin, 1/2 tsp. cinnamon, 1/2 tsp. dried mint, and 1/4 tsp allspice. Stand over the pot as you stir and inhale all that spicy loveliness. 

 Add 2 lbs chopped organic carrots, and one chopped organic sweet potato. Feed your dog the carrot peels because she loves them and they keep her busy. Add 6 cups water and a tsp of salt. Bring to a boil, then turn down the heat and let it all simmer.

While the soup simmers, go out on your deck and admire your new hot tub. Or go on your front porch and admire a tree. Or look out your window and admire what there is to admire. Smell the soup becoming soup. 

 When all the ingredients have softened, add 3 Tblsp lemon juice. Then remove from heat and blend in batches with 1 can Coconut Milk, until smooth and creamy. Return it all to the pot and stir. Serve it in pretty bowls to people who need a little nourishment.